Blood Red Winter: A Thriller

by J. Conrad

  BLOOD RED WINTER

  J. CONRAD

  Copyright © 2017 J. Conrad.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. While references might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For my grandmother, Helen C. Brown,

  who loved mysteries and winter.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER ONE

  January 5th

  I was walking alone in rural Georgetown, Texas, less than half a mile away from Tim’s unused property. After turning onto County Road 118, it only took about five minutes until I could see the grounds. The rusty barbed wire fence was now largely disintegrated and many of the cedar posts were gone, leaving the wire to trail the ground.

  I pushed my feet into the dead grass near the fence and began plodding carefully through the tangly underbrush. There was about a hundred feet of overgrown tract between me and the house. To my back was the narrow, two-lane country road, and on the other side of it lay a cattle field. The cattle were currently absent from view. A bleak, colorless sky filled the space above the empty range and a sharp wind penetrated my jacket.

  There may have been a driveway at one time, but I couldn’t see evidence of one. Dry, untended grass, wiry shrubs and mesquite trees covered the entire yard. I’d never seen a car parked outside. As I continued toward the house I caught the scent of something vile. It was a subtle smell, like the vague stench of a mostly rotted animal carcass which had plumed up from a roadside ditch in a little wisp of misery. It made me think of a dead deer.

  As I walked toward the house, the faint smell grew slightly less faint. It never became strong. Whiffs of rotten air that told of bloated sewage got into my nostrils and made my stomach writhe. I got another feeling in my stomach too, an uneasiness, and I glanced behind me at the barren road and vacant cattle pasture. No one there. I kept going towards the house. Whatever I was picking up had discernible components. Beneath the blanket stench of an open septic tank were human elements.

  I trudged along to the remnants of a rocky path that led to the covered porch. Its canopy bowed in the middle with a defeated sag. The wooden two-story was mostly gray, with flakes of peeling white paint here and there. The roof was in the worst shape, but I couldn’t see any holes from where I was standing. The shutters may have been lavender once, but those remaining had turned emesis basin pink.

  On the ground near the porch, ashy patches of cactus skeletons leaned into the planks, but the wood itself seemed stable enough. I tested it with my foot, then stepped up and tried the door. It was unlocked, but I couldn’t open it more than a few inches. The door banged into something behind it. I put my shoulder against the door, feeling its old timber with my hand, and pushed, but whatever was on the other side wasn’t going anywhere. I decided to go around back. I could slip in through one of the broken windows, but I didn’t want to. Not yet.

  Maybe a bum had been using this forsaken place as his regular campground. He wasn’t there now, nor was his evidence, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t been here or couldn’t come back. This idea was out of place though, even after Tim’s concern about squatters. We don’t get much of that in Georgetown, especially not out here. I scanned the ground, the space near and around the house, the yard. There was nothing here but dry grass, scattered rocks, cactus spines and twigs. Where the hell was that smell coming from?

  For the next half hour, I combed the property from one side to the other. If there was a dead doe or some other unfortunate creature, I sure couldn’t find it. I was glad I looked, anyway. The weak winter light was fading and I pulled out my phone and checked the time. It was going on 4:00. I would check out the house one more time and then call Tim back.

  The sky started to drizzle feebly. I returned to the back of the house and looked for another door, finding one after a turn in the wall. It was attached to a small protrusion, like a mud room. The odor was strongest here – but still weak. This door was locked too. I breathed in that offensive odor again and wrinkled my nose, snorting to try and rid myself of it. I grabbed the brass door knob once more and wiggled it, then I pressed my shoulder against the door. I leaned in and pressed a little harder. As the wood started to creak and groan, I let off. No need to split the door in half, especially since I’d be the one fixing it. I backed away and went over to the nearest window. The glass was missing between three of the frames.

  I squinted and tried to focus inside the dim space. I couldn’t see much, but as I stuck my nose in and took a good whiff, I nearly lost the contents of my stomach. Yeah, that was it – repulsive.

  I staggered backward, cursing and trying not puke. Gathering my shirt collar around my mouth and nose to stifle my coughing, I went back to the window to have a look inside. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and turned on the flashlight feature.

  My heart was pounding so hard it shook my whole body. I don’t know what I was expecting to find. Before I shined the light inside the window, I tried listening for anything. My hands were trembling, my breath was coming out in short puffs of mist in the cold air. There was no reason to think the abominable odor couldn’t be from some critter that had wandered in and died. A stray dog could make a stench like that, and rats and other vermin may be scuttling around the carcass, which I might be able to hear. I must have known I was lying to myself.

  The room inside the window was silent, still and stagnant in that impenetrable darkness which my searching eyes couldn’t pierce. The gloomy weather wasn’t helping. Any noises I did manage to catch were outside noises: the dried leaves in a live oak, the wind between bony cactus shrubs, the grass and gravel under my feet when I shifted my weight.

  With my adrenaline up, my eyes and ears strained furtively for whatever was coming next. I tried to rest my hand near the window so I could angle the light from my phone. A dried up, cobweb-covered insect fell onto my fingers. I jerked my hand, but it was stuck to my thumb and I couldn’t fling it off. I smeared it onto my jeans and swore under my breath. Enough – I needed to quit screwing off and look in that room.

  Standing like a soldier, I aimed the light into the room, into the black hole beyond the broken window. I watched it illuminate the space on the other side of the wall. The beam flooded the small room with light, revealing the most horrifying thing I have ever seen.

  A shabby, emaciated, lifeless body lay on the floor in a haphazard position, discarded there like a worn-out rag doll. I couldn’t tell the age or gender and I couldn’t see the body’s face. Its tattered, soiled
clothing was covered in dirt or dried blood. I couldn’t say which. Higher up, against the wall, was a vision which assaulted my senses with painful clarity. A woman was chained standing upright, her arms high above her head, the rest of her body drooping in a back-breaking, spiritless position. Filthy, matted hair obscured most of her face and her white dress was drenched in blood. Dark red blood.

  I jerked so hard from the shock that my hand slammed into the window frame with an audible crack. The single remaining piece of glass burst out of its frame and shattered on the rocks outside. I almost dropped my cell phone inside the room and clutched it with white knuckles. As I staggered backwards, my shirt collar slipped away from my nose and the nauseating smell of death violated my senses.

  Dead bodies. I’d been smelling dead bodies.

  With my entire body shaking, I stepped forward again and willed my hand to steer the beam of light. I forced myself to look at the rest of the room. It was full of old dusty furniture, boxes, a broken lamp, an ancient television set and other old junk. There was nothing else notable except for the filthy floor, which had probably been used as a latrine by the captive victims.

  I turned away from the house and started to run. I ran through the thick grass all the way to the street before stopping to turn off the light from my cell phone. With a shaking hand, I tucked it back in my pocket. I turned around to see the house, which remained silent and crumbling in the diffused winter light. Just the way it had appeared when I arrived.

  My breathing came hard and fast. My lungs gratefully devoured the fresh air. My eyes relished in the soft, overcast light from the sun. I had no thoughts at all. Nothing. My heart was pounding, the back of my hand throbbed from where it smacked the window. My palms and face were wet and my stomach contracted in little spasms. I glanced along the road and at the field but I was still alone. Feeling detached from reality, I staggered a little way down the road, just beyond Tim’s property. With my eyes on the murder house, I called 911. A few minutes later I called Tim.

  The sense of unreality became like my guardian, an unshakable cloak that never left me as the authorities began to arrive at the crime scene. The Williamson County Sheriff’s vehicles appeared first, four cars in total including constables, followed by two ambulances and a firetruck. In a dancing sea of red and blue lights, the vehicles crammed themselves into the narrow street in front of the house and the ordinarily peaceful countryside exploded into life with the activities of the emergency team.

  I watched Tim’s tan Ford pickup slide behind one of the sheriff’s cars on the side of the road. He opened the door and the truck rocked as he heaved himself out of the driver’s seat. His face was stark white over his red flannel shirt. Despite the cold, Tim took a handkerchief from his back pocket and dragged it across his forehead. I waited to see if he’d notice me standing by the barbed wire fence, but one of the officers met him a few feet away from his truck.

  On the other side of the street, another officer opened the door of his car and I raised my hand. I was the one who made the call and he’d want to know that. He strode my way across the paving, his eyes giving me a quick once-over.

  “Trent Lemend?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Deputy Sheriff Reyes.” He extended his large hand and I shook it. “Thanks for calling us.”

  “No problem.” I reached for my ID in my back pocket. I tried to keep from shaking as I pulled my license from my wallet and handed it to him. There was no reason to be nervous. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  While Reyes noted down my info on his clipboard, I put my hands in my pockets and studied him. He must have been about 6’ 2” because he was about five inches taller than me. The lines on his face told me that he was also about twenty years older, which put him around fifty.

  “What’s the best number for you, Trent?” Reyes asked.

  I answered with my mobile number. I also gave him my work number for my second job outside the ranch, and Tim’s cell. Reyes even asked for an emergency contact, so I gave him a number for my best friend Kyle. I have no family in the Georgetown area; my parents moved to Dallas several years ago.

  I glanced across the flashing police lights to locate Tim’s red flannel coat. He was still speaking with the same deputy, taking both hands and running them through his brown hair. He had removed his woolen hat and tucked it in his coat pocket. The officer’s mouth was pressed into a hard, thin line, while Tim told him whatever it was he was telling him. I couldn’t hear a word of their conversation.

  Reyes began to run through a series of questions and I did my best with his queries, but other than finding the bodies and the manner in which I discovered them, I didn’t know much.

  “Do you know the property owner?”

  “Yes, that’s Tim Corbin. He’s my boss. I work on his ranch,” I said.

  Reyes slightly raised his left eyebrow. “How long have you been working for him?”

  “Only a couple of months.”

  “And he asked you to have a look at the property this afternoon?” Reyes asked.

  I nodded. “He called during my walk. He wanted me to make sure there were no squatters, since he doesn’t get out here too often,” I told him.

  I brought my brief conversation with Tim to mind. The wind had been whistling through the space between my cell phone and my ear. Tim mentioned that he’d been neglecting the place and should probably add its maintenance to my list of regular duties. I never asked how he acquired this piece of land, whether by inheritance or as real estate purchased to be converted in the future.

  “This is the first time you’ve been here, Mr. Lemend?”

  “The first time I’ve walked onto the property, yes. But I take walks on this road all the time,” I said.

  Reyes nodded, not taking his eyes off the clipboard. “How many times would you say you’ve been by here in the last month?”

  My stomach cartwheeled, my heart rabbiting at a dizzying pace. I swallowed, clenching my fists inside my jacket pockets. “Walked by? I don’t know. I take a walk almost every day. Probably at least twenty times.”

  A few passersby slowed to a crawl, gawking and craning their necks as they drove by. Several people stopped their cars and continued to watch from a short distance away as the front door of the house was broken down. One of the firemen heaved an axe at whatever piece of furniture was behind the door, and with a few more swings and a heavy kick from his boot, the door burst open. The firemen, officers and members of the EMT crew filed inside. Several officers remained outside by the porch with their guns drawn. Deputy Reyes and I were like actors in a detective movie while the commotion rolled along behind us in the background.

  I was happy to tell Reyes everything I knew, but I didn’t know much. He not only wanted the details of how I found the victims, but inquired about the nature of my work for Tim, my private life and how long I’ve lived in Georgetown.

  “And you said you live near the property?” Reyes asked.

  “I live near here, but not on this street. That’s my current address on my driver’s license.”

  Reyes nodded, scribbling furiously on his paper. “And in all the times you walked by, you never heard anything? Never saw anyone?” He looked up from the clipboard and waited.

  I shook my head. “No, never. I’ve never even seen a car here.”

  “Okay,” he said, his eyes flicking back and forth between my face and his notes. “If you don’t mind, please go through the details of what happened today one more time. I just want to make sure I have everything.”

  What happened today. Like hell if I knew what happened, all I knew is what I found. I guess he wanted to make sure I wouldn’t change any part of my story. “Sure,” I said, and I ran through my brief inspection of the house and yard again.

  Reyes nodded and looked at what he’d written. “Okay. And how again did you find the bodies?”

  I had just answered that, but I’d tell him again. “I looked into the back window. I tried to op
en the back door, but it was locked. I shined the flashlight from my cell phone into that room.” I sniffed, trying to repress the memory of the full force of that awful smell. Even now I could occasionally detect traces of it, especially since they’d opened the house. “I should let you know that I accidentally broke part of that back window. When I saw that – that – those bodies – I jumped, and I knocked a piece of glass loose.” As I held up my right hand, I saw there was a nasty bruise and a one-inch streak of dried blood across the top. I was so shaken up I hadn’t noticed.

  Reyes’ eyes lingered on my cut. “Okay.”

  Casting around for Tim, I could barely see him behind two officers. I saw the back of his red flannel coat and the handcuffs around his wrists. The deputy with the hard-set face guided him into the backseat of the sheriff’s car. I blinked, plunging further into the surreality that enveloped me in the fading light.

  “Deputy Reyes,” I said, making an effort to tug my eyes away from Tim’s misfortune. “I’d really not like my name released to the media, if that’s all right.” At least I had the presence of mind to think that far ahead. I didn’t know if the sheriff’s office would even do that, or maybe not this early on, but seeing Tim go to jail made me want to protect myself. Who knew what could happen? I must have left fingerprints on the front and back door, so I was glad I mentioned that I had tried entering both ways. There would be no trace of me on the inside of the house. Reyes didn’t seem to consider me a suspect so far, but I wondered if that was typical. Maybe I’d said all the right words when he asked.

  “That’s fine. You can choose to remain anonymous. We’ll contact you if we have any further questions,” he said. The creases in his forehead deepened. “Probably a good idea to take extra precaution for a while. Make sure to lock your doors. Be aware of your surroundings. Be safe.”

  “I will.” I expected him to tell me to stand on the opposite side of the street with the small gathering of onlookers, but he didn’t. He nodded and turned to join the others near the car where Tim was being held. After a moment he slipped into his cruiser, probably to relay my info to the station. I continued to linger on the grassy area near the old barbed wire fence, just beyond the shoulder of the road.