“Thanks. I really appreciate the assessment. I wouldn’t have known how bad I felt if you hadn’t told me.”
I went into my office and tried to work. It was all I could do to stay awake. Around nine o’clock I made my usual call to Bill Simpson. They still were waiting on the police. Nothing new. I had a great urge to tell him that we had found Will but I couldn’t do that.
I waited until it was working hours in Texas and then checked the Internet for news. I thought that someone delivering the papers or maybe the satellite people would finally discover the dish was out and would show up. I figured that as soon as the carnage was discovered all heck would break loose in El Paso.
Sure enough the news was out later in the morning. The satellite repairman found the gate open and the front door of the house open. He came back to the city and phoned it in. It was all over the Internet. It was reported that they had found seven bodies, six of them shot to death and one had his neck broken and signs of torture. It would be several days before they found the eighth body burned in the panel truck but they weren’t positive that it was part of the same crime. They also found two dogs shot to death. With TV news channels hungry for fodder to keep going twenty-four/seven, this was a godsend for them. News helicopters descended on the mansion, photographing the body outside and the bodies of the two dogs. It wasn’t clear which was more emotional for the reporters and audience, the human body or the two dogs. It made great TV.
The helicopter reporters couldn’t photograph inside the main house or the guest house much to their chagrin. It would have been heaven for them to be able to photograph the other six human bodies, especially the guy with his head turned around backwards. They would warn people that the following images could offend, which would only pique people’s interest. It would be great TV entertainment under the guise of modern day news. The helicopters did get shots of the police removing the bodies from the buildings. The talking heads were going crazy. They finally had something to talk about.
I thought, just wait until they discover the cemetery. The news would have a helicopter sitting on top while they dug the boys up. Maybe the cops would put up tarps to shield the operation. I hoped so.
I watched enough of the news to see if anything alarming came out. So far nothing of significance for us came to light. Of course, there was plenty of time for the investigation and you better believe there was going to be pressure for an investigation. Seven people were killed and maybe an eighth. It was a massacre. The cops were going nuts. The cops were laying the ground work for a difficult investigation by pointing out it looked very much like a Mexican drug gang raid. Those were code words for “We probably won’t find the perps.” They would point to Mexico for blame and take the heat off the U.S. police. It was good news for us.
I worked as much as I could through the day. None of us communicated or discussed the news. We had to keep our reactions the same as usual.
On my way home I didn’t stop at the Gin Mill. I couldn’t wait to get in bed. I ate a small dinner and crashed.
The next morning I did a light workout and had a nice long run which relaxed me. It felt great to get back to working out and getting the blood flowing. I still felt like I had been yanked through a knothole but I could function. I was starting to get back in my normal routine.
I watched the news as I ate breakfast. There still weren’t many facts coming out. The talking heads speculated that it was a professional job because so many people had been killed. It looked like a military-style operation. Most speculated that it was a drug-related hit because it was rumored that the estate owner was a drug lord. The cops stuck to their story.
I worked all day and was more or less functional. I was still glad to get home at night. It was Friday and Lydia was going to be there. I often made a beef stew for the two of us on Friday night when she got in. I would put the stew on to simmer when I got home. The stew should be ready to eat any time that night. As soon as I got home I baked bread rolls for our dinner. I fixed two salads and put them in the refrigerator. I heard Lydia’s car come in the drive so I opened a good red wine to let it breathe.
In a few minutes The Cat came through The Cat door with a clack. He came over to say hi and then went in the bedroom and went to bed. I called Lydia and invited her over for dinner. She always ate with me but it was our ritual that I would formally ask her to join me.
She came in and sat down. I poured her a glass of wine. She liked to sit and relax a few minutes before eating, which was fine with me because the bread rolls weren’t quite done yet.
“Have you seen The Cat yet?”
“Yeah, he said hi and went to bed on my bed.”
That always made her mad. She wanted The Cat to sleep on her bed but he chose to sleep on mine when he was at The Cabin. The Cat and I were great friends, which both mystified and irritated Lydia. The Cat normally didn’t like people but he liked me. In fact, most people learned to be afraid of him. He was a tough cat who had lived on city streets. He didn’t take guff from anyone or anything. I didn’t mess with The Cat. I just let him be. I think he liked that. Occasionally he liked to be petted when you first saw him but after that any touching only irritated the The Cat and it was a downhill slide from irritated cat to bloody hand. He liked to be around people but he didn’t want to be touched. Most people messed with him to make friends but it did just the opposite.
The bread rolls came out of the oven and we were ready to eat. You need to eat bread rolls when they are fresh. I had real butter from a local farm. The butter would melt into the fresh rolls but you want to eat them before it does that. We sat down to eat. Lydia started talking about the massacre in Texas. We agreed that it was an awful thing.
That night on the news it was released that the police had found many graves of young boys on the estate. Authorities were still digging but they had uncovered twenty bodies and there were more. They estimated that there were a total of thirty and they mentioned a map. They were going to do DNA testing to identify the bodies. I had been right; the cops brought a lot of tarps. The news helicopter photographed the top of the tarps.
Lydia knocked on my door, which was unusual. She seldom returned after leaving at night. She had helped clean up and wash the dishes and then left for the evening. She came in and wanted to know if I had seen the latest from Texas. It was clearly a horrendous tragedy unfolding. It was enough to affect anyone. I had the TV on and she sat down to watch it. I thought it was strange that she wanted to watch it in my apartment. I assumed that she had a TV although no one knew because no one was allowed in her apartment. I gave her a glass of Bob’s apple brandy.
Lydia was one of the smartest people I had ever known. She had a logical mind full of natural curiosity. She was quick to grasp ideas and quick to solve puzzles. From her comments I could tell she was thinking and analyzing the situation in Texas. She got up to leave and asked me what I was doing on Saturday. I told her that I was going for a run in the morning and then would work out. Then I planned on having a large brunch and invited her. I figured that she was looking for an invitation to breakfast, a pointless ritual because she always came over for breakfast. But she had more on her mind. She wanted to know if I would go on a hike with her. I agreed.
Now it was time for me to think. She seldom proposed a hike to me. We had gone on some hikes together but I had usually initiated the hikes, emphasizing that it wasn’t a date because she had a thing about not dating. This was unusual and I was on guard. She had something on her mind.
After brunch we cleaned the kitchen and table and set out on our hike. It was a beautiful fall day. The air had a slight chill and was crispy. We had on jackets because we were going to walk not run. Both of us had already done our runs early in the morning. The leaves were at their peak color. West Virginia is full of hard woods with leaves that turn beautiful colors in the fall, especially the maples. The maples turn red and yellow. Sometimes you would see a sweet gum and its leaves turned several colors on the same tree.
I loved it. But for this year, it was over and we were facing a winter.
We hiked on a path that The Cabin groundskeeper, Marty, maintained. In fact, he and I had created much of the trail last summer.
Lydia was silent for a time but then started talking in a way that indicated she had something on her mind. I decided I should keep my mouth shut and listen. I was not mentally equipped to keep up with whatever it was she had planned. She said, “You know it makes me mad when guys treat me like I am a dumb woman. Where do guys get ideas like that?” I didn’t think she was expecting me to answer the question. I kept my mouth shut.
She continued, “You know that I love and respect Bob but he is one of the worst. He assumes that I can’t figure out what is going on. I know he killed the boy who raped me. I also know how he got the money to build up the family business. He, Paul and Mike would disappear and reappear. Then shortly thereafter the company had money to invest. This happened over and over. Until he had enough money and then it stopped. You know about this, right?”
“No, I actually don’t know about it. And if I did know, I wouldn’t be able to discuss it.”
“Why? Because I am a woman?”
“No, because it would put you in a bad legal situation if you knew things that you didn’t need to know.”
“You sound like Bob. Anyway, I have figured out what happened in Texas. I put it all together. You guys went to Ohio to look for your son. Later you guys disappear on a “business” trip. How often does Mike go on business trips with you and Bob? Answer is never but he went on this one. Then you guys reappear and a day later the police find bodies all over the place in El Paso. It looked like a military operation just like Bob, Paul and Mike would execute.”
I was horrified. I had not expected this. What was she leading up to? “Lydia, what do you want from me?”
“I want to know if your son is one of the boys down there.”
“Lydia, even if I knew such a thing, I couldn’t tell you. It would change your situation from you-think-you-know to you-do-know. You would be legally compromised.”
“Jack, do you honestly think I would ever tell the police something like that?”
“Hypothetically speaking, if I did tell you something along these lines, you could be put under oath and have to tell the truth.”
“No I wouldn’t. I would lie. Friends are more important than court truth. And I notice you didn’t deny being in Texas.”
“Lydia, I will not lie to you and I wish you wouldn’t ask me questions that I cannot answer. My advice is to wait and see what the police uncover. They are processing DNA. People who have lost boys are submitting DNA for possible matches.”
“Has Will’s mother submitted DNA?”
“Yes, her father told me that the police asked them for a sample.”
“Jack, did you twist that guy’s head around and break his neck? I know that you are strong enough to do it.”
“Lydia, please, if you ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.”
“My God, I was right. It was you guys. I knew it. I could feel it in my bones. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll take this information to the grave. It means a lot to me that you have told me without actually saying it. I would trust you with my life. I hope you think you can trust me with yours because you can.”
I didn’t know what to say and finally decided it was another good time to keep my mouth shut. I knew Bob, Mike and Paul would not like that Lydia knew so much. I then changed my mind and said, “Lydia, it is worth my life if you ever indicate that you got any information or impression from me.”
Lydia said, “I know. I know the people you are dealing with. I have known them a long time.”
When she said that it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was now a killer. I had set out to kill a man and prepared to kill more than one. And in the end I killed one. It was a preplanned, deliberate effort. It defined me as a killer but the worst part is that I had no regrets. I would do exactly the same again if I had another chance.
We headed back to The Cabin. I had a roast in the oven that needed basting and it was time to start getting the potatoes and vegetables ready for dinner. We were going to have mashed potatoes (of course), broccoli, pickles and pickled beets, all from Marty and my truck garden. The roast beef was a local beef that had never been fed hormones or antibiotics. We were having an organic dinner and it was going to taste great. I looked forward to eating with Lydia. I was getting so I enjoyed our meals together.
On the way back to The Cabin I took a risk and asked Lydia a question, “Lydia, what if, hypothetically speaking, I was the one who twisted the guy’s head around backwards, what would you think of me?”
“Jack, it would not change my feelings about you a bit. I know you better than you think I do. I believe you did what you had to do and the world is a better place without that pedophile. I am glad you twisted that guy’s head around backwards. I hope it hurt him like Hell.”
“I am not saying I am the one who did it but thank you for your thoughts.”
Monday, Bob came to see me in my office. He never came to my office unless he wanted something but he seemed reluctant to tell me what he wanted. He said that we needed to meet at The Cabin. I noticed he didn’t say in The Cabin. It turned out that is exactly what he meant. Bob, Mike, Paul and I met on a bench down near the lake. We didn’t think that The Cabin was bugged and Mike swept it frequently for bugs but we never took unnecessary risks. It was next to impossible to bug us outside and there was no way anyone could get close enough to read our lips.
Mike had been working in Ohio, gathering information. Before we went to Texas it was clear to us that the drug dealer in Ohio and his nephew were guilty of kidnapping Will. We were also fairly sure that the investigating detective was involved somehow. That was the only way to explain some of the things that happened while we were searching for Will. Mike had conclusive evidence that this was the case. Peterson, it turned out, had been working with Big Jim in Jim's drug business, and Peterson had interfered in the search for Will. It was time to settle the score and Paul had a plan.
Like all good plans it was a simple plan. Well, maybe not simple but it was straight forward. Two of us would go to the drug dealer’s door in Ohio state trooper uniforms, using a car that looked like an unmarked police car (a Crown Vic with hub caps in place of wheel covers, a spotlight and a short wire antenna or two stuck on the trunk). They would approach one in front of the other at the door. When the guy answered the door and everything looked fine, the guy in front would step aside so the second guy could shoot the dealer with a tazer. They would restrain the guy. If this went okay, the other two of us would approach and watch him while the two in uniform went to the nephew’s house. They would get the nephew and bring him to the dealer’s house.
With them secure, the two in uniform would go to the detective’s house with a story that a lead had developed in the kidnapping and they wanted the detective to come with them to talk with a potential witness. Once in the car, they would tazer him, put him in restraints and bring him to the farmhouse.
We would take the detective’s gun and shoot him in the mouth with it while he was sitting in a chair. We would then shoot the dealer with the detective’s gun, holding it in the detective’s hand so he would have gunpowder residue on his hand. And incidentally, we would be extra careful to make sure we used the detective’s dominate hand, which happened to be his left. By this time the nephew probably will have filled his pants but that would be okay. We would shoot him, using the detective’s hand in the same way. It would look like two shootings and a suicide.
At least it would look enough like two homicides and a suicide that the authorities could report it that way. It would avoid a messy investigation, which would only embarrass the police department. An investigation would generate a call for some resignations. Better to let sleeping dogs lie.
We left from work early on our motorcycles. It was kind of cold for a ride but we told people it wo
uld be our last chance to ride this year. We rode over to The Cabin and put the motorcycles in the garage under tarps and drove a car to Ohio. We met Mike’s man with the unmarked police car and two uniforms. Mike and Bob were going to be the two cops in uniform. Because they were going to the nephew's house and to the cop’s house and might be seen, both guys put on elaborate make up for a disguise.
The plan went perfectly. We had not discussed who would do the shooting. We were in the farmhouse kitchen. The real cop was sweating torrents. He knew he might not survive this. By this time we were all in Tyvek suits so as to not leave any DNA. Bob looked at me with a question in his eyes and I nodded yes. I took the cop’s nine millimeter handgun and put it under his chin. He started to beg but I pushed the gun up hard enough to shut him up but not hard enough to leave a mark. I squeezed the trigger. His head went back, his body relaxed as he died. I surprisingly got very little of his blood on me.
The next part was tricky. I couldn’t walk in any of the blood behind the dead cop. I had to stand to his left side. I put the nine millimeter handgun in his left hand and shot the dealer. I then shot the nephew. We checked to make sure that the three of them were dead and they were.
Our mission was completed. We left the farmhouse and got out of our Tyvek suits. Bob and Mike cleaned off their makeup. Bob cleaned my face off with a wipe with a chemical in it to clean thoroughly. We put all of the wipes, Tyvek suits and tazer in a plastic bag, which Mike took to destroy.
We went back to The Cabin, arriving early in the morning. We cleaned up and headed in to work like it was a normal day. Another night with no sleep.
A great sadness swept over me. It was not a sadness for those who I killed. It was a sadness for myself. I was now a serious serial killer and worst of all I felt no remorse. I was sad for my soul. I felt a pain in my chest when I thought about what my mother would think if she knew I was now a killer of men. How could I kill other human beings and have no feelings over it? If anything, I was glad that I killed the men. They had directly or indirectly killed Will, a little defenseless boy. In addition to being sad, I was angry. How could these bastards kidnap a defenseless little boy, kill him and make me into a serial killer? We humans are not as far from the jungle as we pretend.
A Shadow of Death in The Woods Page 31
