by Laurèn Lee
She tucked the collar into her back pocket and hid it in one of her drawers for safekeeping. Or, rather, she hid it from Jim because who knew what would happen if he found it.
Later that evening at dinner, Meg cooked lasagna for the family. Jim, naturally, had a glass of liquor in one hand and a fork in the other. The family of four ate in relative silence and only spoke to ask for the parmesan cheese or extra sauce.
Once the pregnant silence had gone on for too long, Meg spoke up just after she cleared her throat.
“Kit, tell your father how you did on your test today,” she encouraged.
Jim grunted and took another sip of bourbon, or maybe it was whiskey, Meg stopped keeping track of her husband’s exact vices.
“Go on, honey. Tell him!”
“I got an A,” Kit mumbled.
Meg smiled proudly. “Isn’t that wonderful, Jim?”
“Yeah, sure. The kid passed a fake test given by his fake teacher,” he slurred.
“Jim,” Meg began. “Kit has been working hard on his schoolwork. You should be proud.”
“I’ll be proud when he stops being such a psycho and is allowed back into a normal school,” he scoffed.
“Don’t listen to your father, Kit. I’m extremely proud of you!”
Kit kept his head down and nibbled on his pasta without saying a word. Gabby clapped, though, and told her brother she was proud, too. Kit smiled weakly toward his sister and gave her a slight wink which sent her into a giggling frenzy.
The rest of dinner passed as it started: in silence. It was only after the meal that the entire house exploded.
“What is this on your collar?” Gabby and Kit heard their mother shout from down the hall. Gabby crawled into her brother’s lap, and he held her tightly. They rocked back and forth on the rocking chair in Gabby’s pretty-in-pink princess room.
“It’s just dirt or something,” Jim said nonchalantly.
“Dirt? Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“Do you want me to answer that, Meg?” Jim slurred.
“This is lipstick!”
“You’re losing your mind. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Must be because you’re spending too much time with our lunatic son. He’s rubbing off on you!”
“Don’t you dare bring our son into this again. You’re cheating on me, aren’t you?”
“So, what if I am? Huh? It’s not like you ever bend over for me these days!”
Meg sobbed and threw a glass from the nightstand toward her drunk husband. It smashed into the wall behind him. “After everything I’ve done for this family? You go and sleep with another woman?”
“I’m tired of your bullshit, Meg. I’m tired of you and our son and living in this filthy hell hole!”
“You’re a son of a bitch, and I hate you!” Meg cried. "What about Gabby?"
A few seconds later, an audible slap echoed down the hallway, and Gabby burst into tears. She buried her head in her brother’s neck and wept.
“I won’t let anyone ever hurt you, Gabby,” Kit whispered into her ear.
Jim and Meg threw more objects across their bedroom as the heated argument turned violent. Just like it always did. Meg returned Jim’s slap with one of her own, and he tossed her into the wall. Her vision grew spotty, and blood dribbled down her chin.
“I want you out of this house, you bastard!” Meg screamed as she managed to slide up the wall. “GET OUT!”
“Gladly. That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said. Fucking house of crazies, I’m tellin’ ya!”
Jim packed a suitcase, grabbed the last few bottles of booze from the kitchen and left his wife and two children. He was never heard from again.
Thirty-One
“Mornin’, Ricky,” Earl said as he greeted his partner. “I brought coffee.”
“Thank God,” Ricky said with a sigh of relief. “We need to invest in a different distributor. The stuff in the kitchen is inedible.”
“You’re right. It does seem to get worse and worse,” Earl noted. “So, have any updates for me this morning?”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” Ricky said. “The dogs are out sniffing around the ravine. The press keeps calling. You probably have a handful of messages on your machine.”
“Damn it,” Earl cursed. The last thing he needed was to be hunted by the media while he hunted a serial killer. Which reminded him of his suspicions about his lieutenant. Earl watched as Ricky scrambled at his desk and reorganized some paperwork and reports. Was he capable of taking a life? He’d never personally witnessed a violent side to him, but then again, it’s not easy to mask your real identity if you’re a psychopath.
“You know, Ricky. I don’t think I’ve ever been to your place. You said it’s all refurnished, right?”
“Yes, sir. Did the work myself after I moved in a few months ago.”
“What do you say I invite myself over tonight? I’ll bring some take-out, and we can watch the game, or talk more about the case.” Earl knew it was impolite to impose on someone, especially on short notice, but he was curious to learn more about his lieutenant.
“Yeah, all right. That sounds pretty good. Say, six o’clock?”
“I’ll be there. What do you like on your pizza? I’ll order from Saucey’s.”
“I’m a pepperoni guy myself, but I’ll eat anything,” Ricky grinned shyly.
At ten after six, Earl parked in front of a cozy brick ranch. He knocked on Ricky’s door with a large pizza and a two-liter of Coke in tow.
“Come on in, Boss,” Ricky said as he opened the door to his home.
“You can call me Earl. It’s after hours.” He winked.
“Sorry, sir. I’m just so used to you being my boss.” Ricky shrugged. “Here, let me take that from you. Make yourself at home.”
Earl gladly handed over the pizza box which burned his hands as steam seeped out of the cracks. Saucey’s was locally-owned by a family who’d had the pizzeria in their name for decades. It had the best reputation and for a good reason. If you bought a Saucey’s pizza, prepare for a full belly; there'd be no leftovers.
Ricky grabbed plates, napkins and a pair of glasses while he highlighted the work he’d done to the house since he moved in. Earl strolled around his partner’s home and reveled in the professional craftsmanship that'd gone into the project. He drew his finger atop the marble mantelpiece and noticed not a fragment of dust lingered upon its shiny surface. So, his partner was a neat freak; Earl made a mental note.
“You get a good deal on the place?” Earl asked from the living room.
“Well, once you factor in the labor and supplies to fix it up, I still ended up saving a few thousand. At least, compared to some of the other houses I looked at, this place was a steal.”
“It’s spotless in here,” Earl said as he broached the subject. “Bet you bleach the place and everything.”
“I’m not that clean,” Ricky chortled. “Just like taking pride in my home. That’s all.”
Earl nodded and followed the sound of clanking plates Ricky placed on the table. He’d saved his appetite for pizza, and now his stomach roared for sustenance.
“This looks good. Thanks for bringing it over,” Ricky said, nearly drooling.
“Thanks for having me,” Earl replied. He sat down at the breakfast bar next to his partner. He took a sip of his soda and cringed for a moment after the liquid touched his lips. He couldn’t help but wonder why it tasted different than usual. Then Earl realized it was because he usually poured whiskey into his soda.
“Something wrong?” Ricky asked.
“Nope. Thought I bought diet, but I guess not,” Earl said.
The men dug into their slices and attempted to stifle their moans of food ecstasy, but after a few bites, it became impossible to keep quiet. The garlic and the seasonings made the crust almost as enjoyable as the rest of the pie. Earl and Ricky made minimal small talk while they ate, but once dinner finished with no leftovers, conversation picked back up.
“I’ve had a few dates,” Ricky said as he brought the dishes to the sink.
“Any takers? I’m sure a stud like you has to screen his calls,” Earl said and smiled.
“To be quite honest, I’m not ready for another relationship. My ex did quite the number on me. I haven’t quite recovered.”
“Women,” Earl scoffed.
“I guess the distance ended up being too much for us in the end, but I try not to dwell.”
Earl thought about reciprocating and telling Ricky a story of his own, but apart from his college fling, he hadn’t had another serious girlfriend since. He had a few dates with a woman a couple months ago, but it didn’t end well.
Earl met Nancy at a charity event the station hosted in the parking lot. All proceeds went to the local children’s hospital. Stone City came out in full force that day and droves of people brought desserts galore for the bake sale, gorgeous baskets for the Chinese auction, and they even managed to raise about five thousand dollars from the 50/50.
Nancy was a nurse at the hospital and volunteered to manage the bake sale table. Earl had stumbled over to check out the sweets when she caught his eye instead.
“Howdy there,” Earl said and tipped his sheriff’s hat.
“Hi, Sheriff,” Nancy said. “Can I get you something?”
“I’d like a nice apple pie.” Earl winked.
He had a few beers by this time and felt a little tipsy under the beating summer sun. He tried not to be too forward with women, but something about Nancy lowered his securities.
“We’re fresh out of apple,” Nancy replied coyly.
Earl felt the warmth of embarrassment flood his cheeks, and he looked down to the pavement. “Oh, well, uh, what about cherry?”
“Nope.” She snapped her gum and crossed her arms.
Usually, women in town treated him with more respect than this. Some fawned over him, but almost all of ‘em were at least polite. He was the sheriff, after all.
Now his bruised ego took the back seat and shame handled the wheel. He smiled weakly and walked away. He wondered why Nancy had acted so indifferently toward him. She’d been cordial before when they first met during the planning meetings for the event. What changed?
Earl wondered if maybe he was too ugly for her? Too tall? Too chubby? Would he ever be good enough for another woman?
“Mind if I use the bathroom?” Earl asked.
“Of course not, Boss. I, uh, mean Earl,” Ricky said as he blushed. "Down the hall and it’s the second door on your right."
Earl nodded and trudged slowly down the ranch’s hallway complete with framed photographs of mesmerizing fields he guessed were from his hometown in Iowa. Ricky kept all the bedroom doors open. Earl craned his ears, and much to his advantage, he heard Ricky washing dishes in the sink.
Earl peered into the first room and noticed Ricky’s uniform slung over a chair next to a beautiful oak dresser. Earl stepped into the bedroom and studied Ricky’s belongings. Unfortunately, or fortunately, nothing stood out to Earl: Ricky had a few family photos on his nightstand and a couple of empty glasses on his dresser next to his deodorant and cologne. He wondered where Ricky would have hidden Jackie’s and Rhiannon’s panties if he had killed them. However, he wouldn’t have time to rummage since Ricky was only a handful of feet away in the kitchen.
Earl exited Ricky’s room and stretched his neck to see into the next room, which was merely a mock-gym with an elliptical and a weight set. Earl remembered from the coroner’s report that the victims all had blunt-force trauma to their heads, but a hammer was used, not a weight.
The last room, across from the bathroom, stood as a guest room and had minimal decor besides a deer’s head on the wall. He didn’t know Ricky hunted, although he couldn’t shake the itching question of whether he hunted humans, too.
Realizing his snooping venture should come to a close, Earl quickly relieved himself in the bathroom, washed his hands and returned to the kitchen. Ricky poured two shots of whiskey alongside two Budweisers, and Earl felt a shadow of guilt ease its way over him. Did he really suspect Ricky of being a killer? Maybe he was overreacting? Plenty of people had issues as a kid. And he seemed to handle his breakup reasonably well. There were no indicators Ricky could be the serial killer, but Earl couldn’t squelch his instincts. He knew the killer was close, he just had to find the right clues to track him down.
The men clinked glasses and downed their shots. Earl wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve and sighed longingly.
“That hit the spot,” he said.
“Oh, yeah. I was saving this stuff,” Ricky held up the liquor bottle, “for a fancy occasion, but what the hell? Having a nice, relaxing night with good company is as good as any reason to have a nice glass of whiskey.”
“Here, here!” Earl said. “So, tell me more about yourself, son. I feel like we only ever talk shop.”
“Hmm, what do you wanna know?”
“How about your folks? They still in Iowa?”
“Yup. My dad’s a farmer and my ma’s a teacher.”
“Farming, huh?”
Ricky smiled. “My dad is still sour I didn’t take after him and go in on the family business.”
“No interest?”
“I helped out a lot as a kid. I think it wore me out.” He chuckled.
“Makes sense. Do you see them often?”
“I try to, but since moving here, I think they’ll have to pack up and come visit me now.”
“Not much vacation for us,” Earl said and smiled weakly.
“It’s okay. I’m not complainin’,” Ricky said.
“I don’t even remember the last time I took a few days off. Gotta be years now,” Earl confessed.
“Any place you’d like to go if you had the chance?”
“Nothing fancy. Maybe Vegas? Do a little gamblin’, a little drinkin’ and come home.”
“Maybe we can plan a boys’ trip sometime, huh?”
“Sounds like a fine idea.”
Thirty-Two
After the men said their goodbyes and made promises to get together again soon, Earl left Ricky’s house, still unsure if Ricky could be the Stone City Slayer. While his gut told him to trust Ricky, a quiet voice in Earl’s mind whispered copious “what ifs” over and over.
Earl pulled into his driveway and, as always, arrived home with no one there to greet him. Sometimes, he wished he had someone in his life, a woman to come home to, a wife to cook and clean for him. But, it hadn’t been in his stars and maybe never would be.
Earl climbed out of his cruiser and hobbled toward his front door. The cool night air had stiffened his joints, and he found it troubling to try and exercise them into submission. He unlocked his door, stepped into the foyer and promptly locked the door behind him.
It was a small town, after all. Most folks knew where he lived. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes punk kids dared each other to touch the sheriff’s door, knock and run away. Or, they’d leave a stale box of donuts on his porch. It was mostly kid stuff, nothing harmful. But with a serial killer on the loose, he couldn’t be entirely sure what would happen next. It was always best to be safe rather than sorry. If only the people lying in the morgue had been a little more careful, too.
Earl stumbled to his bedroom and slowly undressed. Tomorrow, he faced the press again for another meeting to highlight the investigation into the three murders thus far. He wasn’t looking forward to it, mostly because nothing new had broken. They still didn’t have any suspects and weren’t even close to finding one. Every person they interviewed, whether it was a neighbor, a friend, or a family member of Jackie, Daniel or Rhiannon turned up absolutely nothing. None of them had any enemies, criminal records or ties to anything or anyone mixed up in illegal activities.
Without any leads or links to each other, this might mean the serial killer was murdering at random,
which was much more terrifying. How can you catch a killer who doesn’t have a plan? Stone City’s citizens felt terrified since the killing started and the man in charge of keeping the town safe had zero answers. Earl, the man who was supposed to protect his people, had no idea what to do next.
He took a long swig from the bottle stashed in his nightstand and dozed off into a restless sleep filled with knives carving up bodies, screaming, and death.
Thirty-Three
True to his word, Jim vanished and never came home. Despite all the abuse, the cheating, the drinking, Meghan felt devastated when he packed his bags. She expected her husband to leave for the night, maybe even a few days, but she always thought he’d come home in the end. She figured they’d find a way to work it out. But, against all her wishes, despite her prayers, Meg quickly became the head of the household and a single mother.
One day, about a week after Jim fled, Meg called his office to see if he arrived at work; she wanted to talk and ask for him to come home. After all, how was a stay-at-home mother supposed to take care of two children all on her own? She had no other source of income, and her parents weren’t very well-off either. There was no way they’d be able to support her and the kids, too.
Jim’s secretary answered the phone and confirmed Meg’s worst fear: Jim had quit. So, not only had he abandoned his family, but he’d quit his job, too. Meg wondered if he’d run off with that whore of his, the one who tagged his shirt with lipstick. Maybe they thought they could start a new life together, no strings attached. She wished more than anything she could have a fresh start, too. Where was her happily ever after?
The bills stacked up before long and lay in a horrifying pile on the kitchen counter. Meg looked at them every day but had no idea how she’d pay them. Jim cleared out their savings when he left, and she only had a few hundred dollars stashed away in her closet. It was emergency money. It wasn’t supposed to be used to survive.
Once the electric and gas were turned off, Meg knew it was time to find a job. She had to find a place hiring for the night shift, though, because she still had to teach Kit during the day. Luckily, Kit would turn thirteen in a few months, and Meg felt comfortable leaving her son in charge of Gabby when she needed a sitter. If there were one man in the family willing to take care of the women, it was Kit.
