by Jon Mills
He exhaled hard and shook his head before finishing off what remained in the can and crumpling it and placing it beside a stack of about twenty.
“Anyway. What can you tell me?”
“A journalist by the name of Jenna Whitmore. You know her?”
He smirked then pursed his lips and nodded. “Jenna was one of the good ones. You know, the only one that actually seemed to give a damn about what happened to Rachel. The rest of them were like ravenous wolves. All they wanted was a headline or a sound bite for the TV, nothing more. But her—”
Jack cut him off. “You said ‘was’?”
“Yeah, she was one of the good ones.” He paused. “Is there a problem?”
“Jenna is missing.”
His eyes widened. “I…” He glanced down before shaking his head. “I… didn’t know that. I just meant that back when they were coming around, she was one of the few that took the time to listen instead of film me.”
Jack blew out his cheeks. He was feeling on edge. Unsure of who might have been responsible and ready to jump on anyone who gave even the slightest inkling that they knew more than they were letting on. That’s when he was reminded of what Meghan had said.
“Why do people think it was you?”
“What do you think? She was the first one to go missing and show up dead. Everyone immediately thinks the husband is guilty. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we had our arguments, but it was never about us, it was over drug use, trying to get her to stay away from Aaron Gance. I would be surprised if it wasn’t him who started the rumors.”
“That’s it?”
He hesitated before he spoke again. “I failed a polygraph three times. And before you say anything, those things aren’t accurate. The cops said I had my dates and times mixed up. But they don’t take into account the stress I was under at the time. There is no way I would have hurt Rachel. I cared for her.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“A plumber. Not that I’ve managed to get much work as of late. Her death has created upheaval in my life that I can’t seem to get out from underneath.”
A voice called out his name. It sounded elderly.
“I’ll be right there,” he responded before he turned back to Jack. “Look, I have to get going. You said there was some information you could tell me about who might be responsible.”
“Yeah. I’m still working on that,” he said rising from his seat and walking towards the exit. “Jenna was close to finding out. If I have any news, you’ll be one of the first to know.”
He shook his head in disbelief, a look of anger flashed across his face.
“Get out! Get out now!”
He pushed the storm door open and Jack stepped out into the humid rain.
Chapter 24
It was an absolute mess. Larson’s lower legs and arms were covered in thick wet mud. The storm began to force waves of rain against the deputy’s jackets like handfuls of tossed pebbles. Larson jabbed the shovel into the earth and scooped up another heavy layer. They’d already found the remains of Bonnie Ratlin. She was laying face down, naked in a shallow grave. She’d been stabbed multiple times. The method of death was astonishingly brutal. There had to have been more than twenty wounds to the chest and neck. Whoever stabbed her, showed no mercy. It was savage. Every now and again Larson would look over to the back of the cruiser, wondering what role Merle had played in the murder. He acted as if his hands were clean but that was bullshit. There was no way in hell Aaron had done this all by himself. Someone had helped him. It was possible that Billy and Dale had chipped in. They were as crooked as the other two. Both had done time for petty theft, fighting and possession of narcotics. One had been accused of rape but the charges were dropped before the case reached the court. No, all Merle cared about was avoiding prison, even if it meant passing the blame to his younger brother. At thirty-six years of age, Merle looked like a rat. Not only did his forehead slope backwards, and his chin jut out, but he had barely any hair left and what remained was slicked back into a small ponytail. It was embarrassing.
“Sam, over here! Looks like we’ve got another one,” Deputy Wallace said. Larson crawled out of the small pit he was creating, eyeing Merle with disdain. His boots made a slurping noise as he trudged through mounds of waterlogged earth. Wallace was about twenty feet away. As soon as he arrived, he looked down at the partially uncovered female. Her body was in a much worse state of decay.
“Same MO,” Wallace said.
Behind him he could hear the K-9 deputy, Mansfield, giving instructions to his dog. So far that dog had been spot on. Now they had two bodies on their hands. Exhausted, cold from the weather and with rain pouring off the brim of his cap, he shouted over.
“Anything?”
“Not so far. Though by the looks of it, this whole place could be a graveyard.”
Larson started giving Wallace a hand to uncover the woman’s frail body. She had a tattoo on the back of her neck, and a small locket around her neck. Wallace crouched down and wiped it off, shone his flashlight on it. “Well, I’ll be.”
“What is it?”
“You remember that nineteen-year-old that went missing two weeks ago. Laurie Jones?”
“That her?”
“Yep. Poor girl. No one deserves to die like this. These bastards are animals. I hope they give them the electric chair for this.”
They continued unearthing her. They would have to leave the bodies where they were for the time being until the forensic team came in, took photos and did their preliminary work. The radio on Larson’s shoulder crackled, static came through the speakers before he heard Ethan’s voice.
“Larson, you there?”
He straightened up and wiped off his hands before leaning back against the mud wall. “Go ahead.”
“Still no sign of Bonnie.”
“Don’t worry. We found her. Dead.”
“Shit.” There was a long pause. “It gets worse. I swung by Ali’s Bar and spoke to the owner. You are never going to believe this.” He paused as if trying to give some dramatic effect.
“What?”
“Meghan Palmer has now vanished.”
His eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?”
“The owner said he called her into work early because of Bonnie. She was serving customers for a while, and then the last time he saw her was when she stepped out back for a smoke break. She never returned. I’ve checked her apartment. No answer. Phone messages aren’t getting through.”
“Doesn’t she have a kid?”
“He’s with a babysitter.”
Larson wiped his soaking wet hand across his tired face, smearing mud over his forehead and then sighed heavily. He looked around at the dug holes and Mansfield still searching. They’d already been out there several hours. Who knew how many bodies were buried. Up until now the disappearance of the women from Marlinton hadn’t garnered much attention beyond local news but this find was liable to go national.
“Listen, I need you to contact State Police,” he said looking around him. “This is bigger than we anticipated. And who knows, maybe Meghan is among these shallow graves.”
“I hope not.”
“Contact State Police, put out an APB on Aaron Gance and set up a few roadblocks on Highways 219 and 39. We need to find that asshole before he kills again.”
“Will do.”
Larson removed his hand from the radio and looked off towards the cruiser. He scrambled out of the grave and headed towards Merle. He wanted answers, and he was going to give them. Larson opened the rear door and yanked him out.
“What the hell?”
“How many bodies are out here?”
“I told you, four that’s it. At least that’s what Aaron said. There could be more for all I know.”
“For all you know?”
Larson hauled him up and slammed him against the cruiser.
“Get off, man.”
Larson leaned in close to his ear. “I swear you are g
oing down for this, and your brother. This time you aren’t getting out.”
“We made a deal.”
“Screw your deal.”
“This is police brutality.”
“Brutality?” Larson clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth. “I’ll show you brutality.”
With that said he dragged him towards the grave where Bonnie lay. Still in handcuffs, he stumbled and fell to the ground. Larson didn’t bother to help him up. He hauled him like a huge sack of potatoes across the ground, creating deep lines in the earth. The other deputies looked over and Wallace called out but Larson ignored it. He forced Merle onto the ground and pressed down on the back of his neck, pushing him towards her lifeless frame.
“That’s brutality. You get off on that?”
“Please. I didn’t do it.”
“Sick sonofabitch.”
Wallace came rushing over and placed a hand on Larson’s jacket sleeve. “Sam. Let him go.”
Larson stared at him intently before releasing his grip. Merle coughed and spluttered and put on one hell of a show. That’s how he’d managed to get the judge to be lenient with him last time, but not this time. This time he was going to make damn sure he received the stiffest penalty possible.
After returning to the inn to collect Jenna’s hard drive, Jack ended up at Dories Lounge at half past five and had been sitting there for close to three hours. He’d had dinner, dessert, and several cups of coffee and was now drinking a glass of beer — anything to keep the owner off his back. She’d approached several times asking if he wanted the check but he didn’t want to head back to the inn yet. He was still poring over the information that Jenna had left on her voice recorder, though now he had a pair of headphones on and was leaning back in a booth near the window. Most of the other tables were already occupied.
“Look, I’m just going to leave the bill here,” the waitress said.
“I’m not done yet. I’ll take another beer.” He slid out from his seat. “I’ll be right back.”
She looked concerned when he headed out and dashed across the street to the parking lot to retrieve his small laptop from the car. He wanted to hook up the external hard drive and see what else she had dug up prior to going missing. Outside, the rain came down in sheets. When he returned to his table, he plugged in the unit and powered everything up.
Karl Fraser had mentioned Officer Rigby, however, there was no mention of him in the hours of statements, interviews, and videos she’d taken. She hadn’t even snapped one photo of him. Had Karl just been lying, and pointing the finger, hoping to distract him from the one who was really responsible?
He hit play and leaned back closing his eyes. Jenna had this soft voice that could almost lull a person into a trance. He knew he was missing some vital information and that eventually, he’d stumble over it.
“I’m sure now that Aaron Gance is behind the recent string of phone calls. Though, Pastor Tim Mathers isn’t without fault. The sighting of him entering the Lodge on the Edge of Green Bank with Dixie Stokes last week leads me to believe that he knows more than he’s telling. He’s refused to take my phone messages and has somehow convinced Corey that I’m deluded. Still, regardless of the setbacks, I have been able to establish a timeline. In every instance that a woman was taken, they were found within a two-week window, however, after chatting to Doug Whethers from the coroner’s office, it appears they were able to establish that the bodies were only in the water for eleven days, which means you aren’t killing them for three days. So where are you keeping them in that time? Why do you keep them alive for three days? Why is it always three days? Is it related to your work? Note to self, I must cross-check the dates they went missing. Was it a weekend? Maybe that’s it. You are doing this on the weekends. You are holding down some job in the week that prevents you from taking women. You are keeping them over the weekend to have your fun with them and then dumping them. But… you’re not touching them sexually. Why? Are you impotent?” Jenna chuckled a little. “I bet that’s it. Isn’t it? You can’t get it up so you lash out at them.”
Jack forwarded the recording, hit play and then did it again a few more times until he found another spot that interested him. “Tuesday the 31st of May. I’m convinced that Karl Fraser is behind the murders of the women. Actually, let me rephrase that. I’m concentrating my efforts on observing him both day and night as his nine-month sentence coincided with the timeline of the murders. No disappearances occurred in that time. Within a week of his being out, Dixie Stokes went missing. Did you take her? I bet you were eager to get your hands on another the second you got out.”
Jack hit stop and chugged back on his drink before turning his attention to the folders on the hard drive. He clicked through two folders full of audio snippets, most of which were comments made by women who knew the Green Bank Five. Jenna had been trying to obtain as much information as she could from them on johns they had been with over the past year. She seemed convinced that the key to figuring out who was behind it, was in the statements made by escorts. Those who might have come across the Green Bank killer and lived to tell the tale without even knowing they were in his presence. He pressed the button again, glancing around the restaurant. Several locals scrutinized him, and he wondered if the killer was close? Was he watching him? Did he know that he had Jenna’s files? Jenna’s voice brought him back to attention. “If it is you… When did you start? If it was you, Karl, you let Bailey get away. That was sloppy. How many others did you take before you decided to kill? What shifted? How did you graduate from letting some go to killing others? Had you been thinking about it while locked away in that jail cell? And why the water?”
Jack stopped for a second, distracted by some of the photos on the hard drive. These weren’t people she was investigating — it was photos of her family — Jenna, Corey, her mother and father on vacation. Some were of locations in Colorado, others from local spots. They were skiing, boating, and fishing. There were hundreds of images. Among the many, he came across a letter addressed to her mother. It was an apology. In the top left-hand corner was her mother’s address in Durbin. He read some of it but felt like he was intruding. It was private. Not related to the murders but to her father’s passing. It was an apology that she wasn’t able to make the funeral because she was away in New York at college and hadn’t got the message, been too busy and… Jack stopped reading. He felt his chest become heavy at the thought of what she must have been going through. Had she printed it and sent it to her mother?
Jack transferred a number of the photos and the letter onto a small flash drive he owned and placed it in his duffel bag among the rest of his belongings. After he breathed in deeply and glanced out the window, he saw a brown sedan pull up beside his vehicle. It was too dark to see the occupants’ faces. It was a couple from what he could tell. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary so he returned to listening to the recording.
A few minutes had passed when he was suddenly startled by a knock at the window. Jack jerked his head to see someone wearing a dark hoodie and a white mask. He could make out their eyes but that was it. Slowly, under the glow of the light outside, they lifted an arm to window level to reveal a baseball bat, and then slapped it a few times in the opposite hand in a menacing gesture before dashing off into the darkness. He looked across to the parking lot but the brown sedan was gone. His eyes swept from side to side, then he noticed it farther down, slightly angled and facing the restaurant. Wipers sloshed water back and forth as rain drops glittered in the reflection of the headlights.
Jack collected his belongings. He tossed some cash on the table to pay the bill and then headed towards the door. Through the blurry, rain-covered window he could see the sedan. The engine roared a few times just as he stepped out the front door. He was so focused on the car that he didn’t see what happened next. Instead, he heard it. A crash, the smash of glass, then again, followed by the sound of crunching metal.
Jack jerked his head to see the bat-wielding lunatic sma
shing the shit out of his Shelby.
“Hey!” he yelled. They looked up and made a break for it just as Jack dashed across the road narrowly avoiding getting blindsided by a truck. Brakes screeched, and tires squealed as the truck swerved to miss him. That split second delay was all they needed. The masked stranger hopped into the back of the sedan and it revved its engine a few more times, almost taunting him. He reached around for his Glock but it wasn’t there. Shit, he’d left it in the car. The last thing he wanted was to get raked over the coals again by the police for carrying one, so he’d tucked it in the glove compartment.
The brown sedan jerked forward a few times like an angry bull getting ready to charge.
Now he could see the other occupants. They were masked like the one in the back, and there were three of them. Jack made a mad dash for his vehicle but had to dive for cover as shots rang out. A window had dropped in the back, a handgun was sticking out and several rounds were fired in his direction, tearing up the gravel nearby.
“Motherf—”
Not wasting any time, he scrambled to his feet and bolted out from behind one car to the next, steadily making his way towards his vehicle that had the windshield busted in. Bastards. It was a mess. Several more shots were fired, and then he heard tires squeal.
“Oh, hell no!”
He hurried over to his vehicle, hit unlock on the key fob and dived inside. Through the passenger window, he could see the red taillights of the vehicle as they tried to escape. He turned over the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Rearing back his legs he pushed out the windshield that was barely hanging on by a fragment of glass around the edge.
Then, he smashed his foot against the accelerator and tore out of the lot.
Chapter 25
Aaron Gance couldn’t stop himself from laughing. The brown sedan blasted out of the lot with the Shelby behind them, closing in fast. It soared over a rise in the road hitting ninety miles an hour. Billy rammed the stick shift into gear, threw the wheel and they swerved down 5th Avenue.
