by Laurèn Lee
Gabby finally sat up and turned to Earl. “I can’t believe she’s gone,” she said.
“It doesn’t feel real,” Earl replied slowly.
Suddenly, the leftover vodka in his truck was all he could think about. He wanted it, no, needed it in his system right this very second.
“Gab, I gotta go. I’m sorry,” Earl said.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I just can’t be here. Do you have someplace to stay?”
“Yeah, I booked a hotel. Are you sure you’re okay? Why don’t you stay with me tonight?”
“I can’t. I need to go. I’ll call you tomorrow morning,” he said as he kissed his sister on the forehead and dashed out of the room.
He jogged as fast as his legs could carry him out of the facility and into the parking lot where he unlocked his truck and threw his body inside. He reached for his cooler and tore the top off frantically. The vodka bottle had been left right where he put it, and it called to him like a devil whisking him off to temptation. He unscrewed the cap and tossed it out of the window. He wouldn’t need it anymore because he intended to finish this bottle right here, right now.
Earl chugged the vodka until he couldn’t feel his lips. He pressed his eyes closed and wished today had been a horrible, awful nightmare. How had he ever thought today would be a good day? He’d been foolish to believe he was entitled to one day of peace and serenity. Maybe it was his decision to do something for himself for a change that shifted the cosmos, spinning him back to the reality where people always leave him. Why didn’t he visit his mother once he found out she had cancer? Did he think she could beat it? Did he think she could survive a deadly disease? His life had regrets sprinkled throughout the years, but this would be the greatest regret of them all. He never even had the chance to say a proper goodbye. Now, he’d have to live with the consequences.
Earl had to get the hell out of the parking lot, especially before Gabby decided to leave too. He figured she wouldn’t want to stay with their mother’s corpse for much longer. Earl assumed her body would be chilled soon, if it hadn’t already begun to cool. He started his truck and peeled out of the lot, leaving skid marks in his wake.
He needed to go somewhere, anywhere, but here. He didn’t want to go home, and he couldn’t go to the station in this condition. So, where could he hide? He decided to let his body make the next decision. He needed to ignore his conscience, which cried out for him to call his sister. She’d make him feel better, but he also didn’t want to feel better. He pushed his mom away, and now she was dead. He didn’t deserve comfort. He deserved to suffer alone.
He turned left, then made a right, then another left and didn’t stop to think where he was headed. He just needed to get away, far away from the facility and his mother’s corpse. After about ten minutes, Earl approached a clearing beside a cornfield and parked his truck. Why had he come here? What was this place? It looked familiar, like he’d been here in a dream, but he couldn’t remember for certain.
Earl opened his door and nearly fell out of the truck. If he hadn’t caught himself on the door frame, he would have surely landed face-down in the dirt. After he steadied himself, Earl dropped to his knees and sobbed uncontrollably. He pounded the dirt with his fists. The sheer force of his fit caused the dirt under him to materialize in the air. It mixed with the tears on his face and little traces of mud formed upon his cheeks.
“Mama, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mama,” he moaned over and over.
The glint of his glass bottle in the moonlight caught Earl’s eye, and he desperately reached for it. Only a few drops had spilled, but there was enough left to satisfy Earl’s taste buds. He finished the bottle in one fell swoop and threw it into the cornfield where it smashed into a million little pieces.
A coyote howled several miles away which caught Earl’s attention and stopped his tears for the time being. Again he felt the overwhelming sense that he’d been here before. But when? How? Surely, he would know if he’d ever been to this cornfield before. Right?
Earl pulled himself up, wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve and started to look around. He felt the distinct sense of deja vu so intensely, it was like the memory of this place was struggling within the inner depths of his mind to break free and reveal itself. He strutted carefully and noticed there was already a trail of footsteps before him. That could mean anything, though. Farmers had to be out here on a daily basis to check on the crops and make sure they were in stable condition. And yet, the footprints seemed to match Earl’s own exactly. Same length and width. It was obvious he truly had been here before, or someone else with his same exact foot size and shoe choice made their mark before his arrival. Were there any real coincidences in life?
He followed the footprints into the corn for several yards until he came to an area where the stalks had been torn down, leaving a gaping hole in the field. There, at his feet, were remnants of a tragedy. Earl’s breathing quickened, and he bent down to pick up a rock that looked darker than it should. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. The rock reeked of blood. A tattered scarf lay not too far from the rock, and Earl picked that up too. It smelled like a woman with faint vanilla and floral scents embedded in the fabric. Had he stumbled upon a crime scene? What happened here?
Earl bent down to see if he could find anything else hidden in the dirt. He didn’t want to disturb a potential crime scene, but he needed to know what happened here. He needed to know how his subconscious found this place. As he dug deeper, he felt something thin but sturdy under a couple of other rocks. He scooped the gravel aside and discovered what his fingers felt: a credit card. No, it was Earl’s debit card. The same card he lost not too long ago.
Had Earl been here before? How did his bank card get here? Did someone steal it and then lose it here? What the hell was happening?
Dizziness took over, and Earl felt sick. Bile rose in his throat, and he couldn’t stop it; he violently vomited beside himself several times, emptying his stomach. Once he finished, Earl fell into the dirt and lay on his back looking up at the sky. There was only one explanation as to why he’d come to this field and why he found his bank card beside a bloody rock and a woman’s scarf… He had been here before, and he hurt someone very badly.
Forty-Two
By the act of God or the miracle of all miracles, Earl made it home that night in one piece. He’d missed several calls and texts from Gabby asking if he was okay. He mentally cursed himself for being such a selfish little shit. Here, his sister was in the middle of mourning their dead mother, and she had to chase down her loose cannon of a brother to check in on him.
Once he reached his bedroom and pulled the comforter over his head, Earl quickly responded to his sister and hoped she’d leave it be until another time. As ashamed as he felt for leaving her hanging, he still didn’t want company or conversation.
“I’m fine, Sis. Sorry, I worried you. Love you.”
As he’d wished, Gabby didn’t respond. Maybe she’d already fallen asleep, but most likely she understood that her big brother needed his space. If she remembered anything at all from their childhood, she’d know Earl hadn’t been the best at coping with traumatic situations.
Earl fell into a restless sleep while violent images attacked his subconscious. It was as though he finally came up for air, or someone had turned the lights on, but everything started to fall into place while he slept. He remembered meeting Jackie the night she died. He couldn't help but feel disgusted by her openness to flirt with a complete stranger. He couldn’t help but notice how much she looked like his mother during her prime. He drew the parallels himself and wondered if this is how men saw his mother many years ago: desperate and willing to put out.
He remembered driving home and pulling Jackie’s business card out of his wallet, which had her address printed plainly on front. Something wild struck him at that moment; he knew he had to go to her house and teach her a lesson. He had to let her know a respect
able woman can’t just go to bars, hit on men and invite them home. He’d tell her how a real lady should act.
Earl turned around hastily and sped toward the woman’s house, praying she’d be home. If not, he’d sit outside her house and wait. She hadn’t been home when Earl pulled up, but he only waited about ten minutes before a yellow taxi cab dropped Jackie off at her front door.
As she drunkenly fumbled to find her keys, Earl locked his vehicle and stalked behind her.
“Hi, Jackie,” he said with a velvety grin.
She jumped and clutched her chest. “Sheriff! Oh, my heavens. You scared me!”
“Didn’t mean to scare ya, ma’am,” he said. “Was hoping I could get that drink with you after all.”
“Well, of course,” she said, still heaving. “Come right in.” She held the door open for Earl and locked it behind them.
“Nice place,” Earl said as he noticed a hammer sticking out of a tool bag by the door.
“Thanks! I’m working on a few projects to fix it up, but it’s home,” Jackie said and smiled. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”
“That sounds perfect,” Earl replied.
As soon as Jackie stepped out of view, Earl carefully bent down to pick up the hammer and held it behind his back. He gripped it tightly even though his palms sweated profusely.
“I hope you like Merlot,” Jackie called from the other room.
“That’s fine!” Earl responded.
Jackie strolled back into the living room and held two robust glasses of wine. She set them down on the coffee table by the couch and turned around with a sultry look on her face.
“I’m happy you decided to come,” she cooed. “I love a man in uniform.”
Earl chuckled. “Want to know how I like my women?”
“Sure,” she said optimistically.
“Cold. And. Dead.” Earl revealed the hammer behind his back, raised it above his head and swung hard against Jackie’s skull. She crumbled to the floor as blood oozed from her scalp. She looked into his eyes, and dread enveloped her entire face. Earl could smell her fear.
“If you scream now, I’ll kill you. Do you understand? If you keep quiet, though, I’ll let you live,” Earl warned.
Jackie nodded despite the copious amount of blood exiting her forehead.
Fury continued to take hold of Earl as he unzipped his pants. He’d show Jackie precisely what she deserved. True to her word, Jackie didn’t scream and kept silent the entire time.
Once Earl was satisfied with his act, despite not finishing, he knew he had one more thing to do. Even though he promised to spare Jackie's life if she stayed quiet, there was no way he could let her live now. It would surely be the end of his career and own life. No, he had to take her out.
Jackie continued to silently sob all the while looking into Earl’s eyes.
“Stop looking at me!” he howled; however, she kept staring. “I said, stop looking at me!”
Earl picked up the hammer one last time and split Jackie’s skull. This time, though, when he looked back into her eyes, they didn’t blink.
“Dumb bitch staring at me like she thinks she knows me,” Earl mumbled to himself. He couldn’t fathom one more minute of Jackie looking back at him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the penknife he kept on his keychain. He made sure Jackie would never look at him again.
Jackie’s cats stalked into the room at the sound of the commotion. He’d take care of them, too.
Earl woke and bolted upright; sweat drenched his entire body. All his memories were coming back to him now. The floodgates were open. Just like when he was a child and would black out during awful moments, the memories eventually came back to haunt him.
Knowing there’d be no way he could go back to sleep now, Earl leaped out of bed and jogged to the kitchen, and more specifically, the liquor cabinet. He whipped open the door and realized his stash had become dangerously low. All he had left was a bottle of Captain Morgan that Warren had bought him for his previous birthday.
Earl twisted off the cap and opened the fresh bottle of booze. He chugged from it for several seconds before he slammed it down atop the glass liquor cabinet.
By now, the calmness should have washed over him. But the serenity was nowhere to be found. In fact, his heart raced more severely, and sweat hadn’t stopped pouring down his face and back. The realization came to him: the entire time he hunted a cold-blooded killer, he'd been hunting himself. He ran in circles trying to catch the murderer, when all he had to do was look in the mirror.
Tears of frustration, shame and fear poured from his bloodshot eyes.
“How could I have done this?” he cried out loud.
He looked down to his hands, and they shook feverishly with rage and shock. His own hands had taken the lives of four human beings. He murdered, and he did it in cold blood. Earl dropped to his knees and sobbed. He’d let his mind take control of his consciousness, and a handful of dead bodies lying in the morgue were the result.
He was a murderer. He was a killer. He was pure, unaltered evil.
Forty-Three
His revelation took his life by storm. The complexity of the truth and darkness which enveloped his mind crushed the weight of his soul. The right thing to do would be to turn himself in. Yes, he could try to use the insanity defense. After all, he had no initial recollection of committing the murders. He’d done so in a dissociative state. Would anyone believe that, though? Earl never thought highly of a person who used that defense in court proceedings. A person always has a choice, and he’d made his. Even if he didn’t remember killing, he still deserved to be punished.
He looked around his house and wondered what life would be like if he never saw these four walls again. How would he handle prison? It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he wouldn’t last long in the penitentiary. Men who did time for hurting women and kids didn’t often come out on the other side in one piece.
Earl’s phone alarm sounded, and he jumped out of his skin, startled. It was time to go to work. Without another thought, Earl put down the bottle of Captain and trudged back upstairs to his room. He dressed and planned to go to the station as a good sheriff should.
When Earl arrived at the station and proceeded to walk by his men, he faced a handful of strange and inquisitive glares. Did he look guilty? Would everyone know that he'd been the killer all along?
Ricky rushed to him with concern etched on his face. Earl’s stomach dropped as he braced for his lieutenant to out him to the station. And then, it hit him: all this time he suspected Ricky of the murders when he’d been the guilty one. How could he ever have suspected Ricky? How could he have not realized who the true culprit was? The room spun madly.
“Boss? Are you okay? Do you want a glass of water?”
Earl swayed back and forth as his vision grew spottier by the second.
“I need some help over here!” Ricky called just before Earl passed out cold.
“Boss, Boss, are you okay?”
Earl looked into his deputy’s eyes and struggled to focus while the bright lights in the breakroom blinded him. Someone set up a makeshift bed on top of the cot for him after he fainted.
“How long was I out?” Earl asked hazily.
“About ten minutes, sir,” Ricky confirmed. “Boss, I gotta ask… Why are you here?”
Earl’s heart rate sped up again. Did Ricky know? How did he find out?
“I got a call from your sister. She said your mother passed last night,” Ricky said solemnly.
Earl sighed heavily with relief. “I didn’t want to miss work is all.”
“You should have called off. You know we can handle the investigation for a few days without you,” Ricky said as he nudged his boss in the ribs.
“Help me up, son,” Earl requested. Ricky used all his strength to pull Earl into a sitting position on the cot. Earl noticed a few deputies peeked their heads into the room like little nosey groundhogs.
“Get back to work, folks!�
� Earl called out, which sent the men scampering in the other direction.
“You really should take the day off,” Ricky said again. “We can hold down the fort. You should be with your sister right now.”
Earl nodded. “Yeah, okay. But you call me if anything happens, all right?”
“Of course. Is there anything I can do while you’re gone?”
“Uh, just try not to let the press get wind of this,” Earl mumbled. "I have enough to deal with without having Miss Snooty asking me questions about my family."
“You got it. Now go home and get some rest.”
As hurried as Earl entered the station, he’d left it just the same. He strode out and avoided eye contact with the deputies. He sensed many were desperate to catch his attention and offer their sympathies. He didn’t need their sympathies, though. He needed to get the hell out of Dodge. Maybe he should run away? What would happen if he stayed? Would he continue to waste the manpower and resources to hunt an imaginary killer unbeknownst to the police? He knew the press and public would never rest until someone was behind bars. Maybe, just maybe, he could find some lowlife to frame? Yeah, that could work! But, he’d have to be smart about it. He’d have to pin it on some unlucky guy just so to avoid any suspicion upon himself.
Earl parked his cruiser and ran inside his house. He needed to come up with a plan, and he needed to do it this damn instant. Earl tumbled into the foyer and panted. He slammed the door behind him and slid down its length as he collapsed onto the floor. He didn’t think he could handle the reality of what he’d discovered. Flashbacks from his childhood zoomed into his consciousness, too. He remembered stealing Gabby’s dolls, pretending they were real girls from school who’d bullied him, and ripping their heads off. He fantasized about what it would be like to rip their skulls from their bodies in real life. He dreamt and obsessed about hurting those girls who wouldn’t give him the time of day. They deserved to be punished. Eventually, Earl punished Jackie and Rhiannon for their sins.
