by Greg Enslen
David glanced out the window and saw that it was starting to get dark. The wind was really picking up now, and the rain that had been falling since he had gotten back last night was falling at an angle, coming down in heavy sheets and slapping against the panes of glass in the bay window in the King’s living room. They had left the TV on during the discussion and he had seen intermittent satellite pictures of the hurricane, and it looked like the worst of it was going to come through the area tomorrow, the eye moving by about a hundred miles to the east, just offshore. And what would that mean for Liberty - cut off from the rest of the world? “So, you think this guy is back, and he’s looking for me. He read the file for insight into the case and my father’s techniques. He killed my Aunt, maybe out of revenge, or maybe he’s using my Aunt’s death as bait to get me back. He knew I was gone for California, and he needs me here.”
Norma nodded. Smart kid, smart as his father. And when the kid was thinking, pondering on the evidence, she could easily see the shadow of his father’s face in his. They both did that thing where they pinched the bridge of their nose with their thumb and forefinger, pinching the skin above the nose. And the eyes were so much alike, too. “Yeah. If he killed your Aunt to draw you back, that would explain his motivation. The only thing I can think of that would draw him back would be a revenge scenario, but your father is already dead. Jasper can’t kill him again, but maybe you would make a worthy substitute in his mind.”
“I’m no cop. I don’t know the first thing about catching criminals, or investigating a case like this. I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.” David didn’t like this one little bit, and he stood, pacing as he talked. “So, if this is all true, why don’t the cops believe you? I mean, it’s common knowledge that Brown is an idiot, but your proof and your theories are pretty strong, and well laid-out. If it is all true, shouldn’t someone be looking into it?”
Julie agreed. “Yes. And when I talked to Blake after Brown stormed out, he assured me that he would be taking over the case from Brown on Monday morning. Evidently, three homicides is way more than Blake trusts him to investigate, and he will exercise his authority to take control of the investigation.”
“No, that’s not good enough,” David said, and the room grew quiet. “We have to get out there and do something. If this guy is loose and running around, he needs to be stopped. We should go talk to the cops again.”
He looked over at the box of his dad’s paperwork that he had brought home (funny how he’d started thinking of her house as ‘home’ since he’d been back) and wondered what else was in it. There were files on his other cases, but he didn’t think that it would help too much. No, he needed more information on this crazy guy. If there was someone out there that wanted him dead, it wouldn’t take long for him to find David. He could look up Bethany’s address in the phone book, or pay a visit to his roommate, or just about anything.
The key was, Jasper Fines didn’t know that he was back yet. The guy had set out the bait, but unless he made a public appearance or was mentioned in the papers or something, the guy would not know he was back yet. He’d been interviewed by the cops, but so far, no one else knew he was back. That news would get out quickly, but for now, no one knew.
He shared his thoughts with Bethany and Norma and Julie, and then they discussed what had to happen next. The bridge being washed out was a crimp in Julie’s plans - she expected to research and if anything came of it, she would call the Situation Desk and get some back up. Now, she was on her own.
“I want to read all of these files, and I would like to read your reports, Julie. You said earlier that we are pressed for time, Norma - what did you mean?”
“Well, I wanted to drive around and look for him. I know it sounds silly, but I feel like I know this guy. And between Julie and me, we probably know this guy the best. I was thinking we might be able to guess where he was, or what he might be up to.” Norma looked outside and saw that it was dark. “It’s really too late for that, now.”
David nodded. “Okay, I would like to read these files and talk to Julie some more about her reports. And I’d like to glance through some of my father’s other case files, just in case. There might be some insight in them.” He wasn’t sure what else to do, so he spoke his mind. “Bethany, why don’t you and Norma run out and get some dinner and do a quick drive around town and see if you see anything, and Julie and I will talk about her theories.”
He looked around at them, and Bethany was giving him a funny look. “What?”
She smiled and looked at him, thinking that he seemed to be a little taller. “Oh, nothing. It just sounds strange. You sound so commanding, like you’re in charge of a big army or something.”
Norma nodded, keeping her opinion to herself. The voice was even the same.
“What are you thinking, David?” Julie asked as she started picking up her files to move them into the dining room.
“Well, if the cops won’t listen to us in their office, maybe they will listen in a more ‘public’ situation.” He held up a copy of today’s paper, and pointed at the article about the Town Meeting tonight in the High School gym.
Julie nodded, glancing at her watch. Less than two hours before it started. “I like that. Brown will stammer and look like an idiot, and Blake will have a good excuse to take over.”
He nodded. “Yeah, but that’s not why I’m doing this. If the cops won’t investigate this, we will have to. And you and Norma have gone a long way towards figuring out what’s going on here.”
A few minutes later, David was sitting at the King’s dining room table, reading. His father’s file on Fines was in reverse chronological order, starting at the bottom with the reports and coroner’s findings on the first victim. He had heard most of it already a million times, and along with Norma’s description, he felt he only needed to skim the file for more details. He read that Deputy Norma Jenkins had been working undercover, dressed as a civilian, and she’d been jumped by Jasper Fines and pulled behind a dumpster in the alley on one side of the supermarket. He had broken her nose, explaining the odd crick in her nose. Later there was the famous “Shoot-Out” David had heard about so many times, and his father had taken a bullet high in the left thigh, dropping him and allowing the Killer to escape.
David felt no small amount of pride for his father now, reading through his files and understanding just how smart the guy was - and why the town seemed to hold him in such high regard, conveying upon him his almost god-like status.
So why had he spent so many years fighting the memory of this man? Anyone would have been proud to call this man “Dad”, and even though he was gone before David ever got a chance to meet him, that hadn’t really been his fault, or David’s. Only one person was really to blame for killing Beaumont, or for taking away David’s only father, taking away David’s only chance to grow up with and know his own flesh and blood. Even if his mother had still died in childbirth, David thought that he and his father could’ve gotten along okay. The man that he was reading about in these files didn’t sound like the kind of guy to back away from anything - he would’ve been a good father. Probably would have called him “Opie” or something goofy like that.
The possibilities were out there, tantalizingly close, but through a series of events over which he had no control, David had never had a chance to meet this man whose handwritten reports he now pored over.
Bethany and Norma returned after a half hour or so, and while Julie and Norma got plates and glasses, Bethany sat next to David as he read though more reports. “So, what have you found?” she asked.
“Well, for one thing, my dad was pretty cool. And smart. He figured out what was going on pretty early, and after he put up that curfew, no more civilians got hurt.” He said, a touch of pride in his voice. “You have to remember, they didn’t have that many killings back then. The term ‘Serial Killer’ hadn’t even been invented yet. The guy was a certified psycho, and from the coroner’s reports, a real weirdo. The coroner
in Fredericksburg said he’d never seen anything like that before. Both were killed slowly, with evidence of torture. There were some burns on the Councilman’s face like he’d been burned with a cigarette lighter or something, and there were other things with the little boy that...well, let’s just say they were pretty sick.”
Bethany made a face. “Yuck.”
“Yeah, ‘yuck’ is right,” he said, agreeing and pointing at the report.
Julie and Norma came back in, and over the next hour, they all sat around the well-lit table and talked about the cases and about his father, and about what there was that they could do about it. And somewhere deep inside, David Beaumont grew a little. Not too much, but some part of his insides grew back, as if it had always been there. He had never sat around a dinner table and had a discussion like this before, and for him, the experience was strange and golden, like something that should be savored. As gruesome and disturbing as the subject matter was, he enjoyed the free and easy discussion of ideas, back and forth over the spread-out papers and reports and cartons and plates of Chinese food, purchased from the only place that they could find open. And when Bethany reminded them that they needed to leave if they were going to make it in time for the Town Meeting, David was a little disappointed to see their little group break up.
The Town Meeting was to be held in the high school gymnasium, about the only place in town large enough to hold the expected 250 or 300 people. Wooden folding bleachers stretched along both long walls of the gym, pulled open for the meeting and providing seating for those who didn’t want to sit in the rapidly-filling rows of folding chairs set out on the basketball court. A wooden platform and podium had been set up on the end of the gym away from the doors, the same one that had been set up in the police station’s lobby for the ill-fated press conference several days before. The rest of the court was taken up with chairs except for a wide-open area in the back.
The few members of the press who had elected to stay in town instead of trying to beat the weather out of town were grouped to one side of the podium, setting up their cameras and grabbing people seemingly at random and interviewing them. Tina Lindsey, from the Pittsburgh paper, was among them, trying to interview one of the beat cops guarding the podium. On the other side, away from the press, sat members of the city council and other town officials not important enough to be seated up on the raised platform. The rest of the front ten rows or so were pretty much filled with people, and the noise of discussion and quiet conversation filled the large room.
They’d evidently chosen the school gym instead of the school’s auditorium because it could hold more people more comfortably, and it had said in the paper that the Sheriff wanted people to feel free to speak their minds because it would make them feel better. By the looks of things, David thought that there would be a lot of people wanting to get things off their chests. The place was filling fast, something David would not have expected - the weather outside was horrible, and that should’ve kept a lot of people away, he thought. Evidently there were a lot of people out there in his town that were very interested in how the Sheriff would deal with the situation.
David couldn’t help but feel a pang of pride for his father. He’d spent the last few hours reading his father’s files and paperwork and it was obvious from the yellowing old papers that his father had been a good man, and a very smart one. And when much the same thing had happened 18 years ago in this town, David’s father had reassured the people, calming them with assurances that the killer would be caught, that the reign of terror would be ended.
Sheriff Brown evidently failed to inspire that kind of trust in the townsfolk.
“How many people do you think are here?” he asked.
Bethany looked around, scanning the crowd, one hand casually resting on David‘s knee. “Oh, 250 or 275, I’d say.” Julie and Norma sat in the row in front of them, and they were chatting about something David could not hear.
He looked at her oddly. “How would you know?” he asked good-naturedly.
She smiled. “Last year the Bobcats made it into the playoffs, remember? I went to one of the games and it was about this crowded. They had a contest to guess the number of people in the stands, and it was a little under 300. Good turnout tonight, huh?”
“Ah, yeah. I guess so. Either that, or a lot of people want to know what the Sheriff is going to do.”
She looked over at him. “You still nervous?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I mean, it’s a real long shot, isn’t it? What are the chances the guy would come back to this little hole of a town, especially after so many years? I’m gonna get up and say it and people are going to laugh me out of here.”
She thought about it for a minute. “Well, maybe you should’ve just called the Sheriff up and suggested it straight to him, instead of getting up in front of all these people.”
He shook his head. “No, he won’t listen to me, just like he didn’t listen to Julie or Norma. Hell, Julie’s an FBI agent and he laughed at her. And look at the way they treated you when you went in to report Lisa missing - that was horrible, and you were so scared, and they did nothing to try and make you feel any better. No, I think I’ll have to do it in public, where everyone can hear. I don’t care if people think I’m stupid - it’s just too important to ignore.” His words came out with a degree of defiance, but he still fingered the file folders he held in one hand, the files that contained his father’s original notes on Jasper Fines and the crimes that had occurred so long ago. Hours of poring through these files and the reports that Julie had brought with her from D.C. had told David two very valuable things: Jasper Fines had been very clever, and his methods were nearly identical to the person who was even now terrorizing Liberty citizens.
And after reading through his father’s papers, papers that his Aunt Gloria had never let him see, he was less ashamed to be lumped in the same category with his father - the guy had been pretty damn smart.
Twenty feet underneath the Fighting Bobcats seal painted on the parquet wooden surface of the Liberty High School basketball floor, Jack Terrington loosened the last bolt that held the glass cover of the boiler’s main gauge. It was very warm down here by the boiler - it was cranking out a lot of warm water and pushing it though hundreds of feet of pipes all over the school, trying to warm it against the cold rain and winds outside. Jack’s face and arms were covered with dust and streaked with rivulets of sweat.
come on come on
The huge bolt finally spun loose and Jack glanced around to make sure no one had come down the stairs leading up to the school’s maintenance office. Jack removed the heavy gauge housing, exposing the back of the apparatus and a thin metal wire connected to the red arm of the gauge’s pointer. Gingerly, he plucked the wire off of the gauge needle, and immediately the needle spun to read “0 PSI”. Any fool could hear the dull roar of the boiler and see the gauge shouldn’t have read zero, so Jack spun the needle around to “250 PSI”, about half of full pressure and well out of the danger zone of 600 PSI, and bent the needle back to make it stick. Checking to make sure the gauge still read 250, Jack slapped the gauge housing back into place, replacing the transparent cover, and screwed a couple of the thick bolts back into place to hold it.
Wiping his hands on an old rag he’d found, Jack made his way over to the Boiler Pressure controls and located the knobs he had seen last night. Flipping off the safeties that would’ve normally not allowed him to do what he was about to do, he turned the main pressure control knob up to its sticking points, and then, almost as an afterthought, he grasped the plastic knob and wrenched it free of the control panel. Now all that stuck up from the panel was a thin metal rod, and if anybody did manage to figure out the boiler was going to go, there was no way they could turn it down, not without the knob which Jack slipped into his pocket for safekeeping. It would make a great addition to his collection. Maybe somebody working with pliers could’ve stopped the boilers’ rumbling anger, but it would probably take too long.
perfect
“Any luck?”
Julie shook her head, the frustration obvious on her face. “Nope. I know the weather outside is terrible, but I can’t figure why both the regular and cellular phones are down. The land lines could’ve been snapped by the wind, I know, but the cellular phone towers? They only relay the message along - I don’t know why the weather would affect it.”
Norma shook her head too, agreeing. She knew next to nothing about cellular phones - only a couple of people in Liberty had them, and certainly nobody that Norma hung around with. But as with any new technology, she figured they were pretty finicky, not working sometimes for no reason at all. “Who are you trying to get?”
Julie looked at her, deciding it couldn’t hurt. “Well, I’m calling the Situation Desk at H.Q. Anytime an agent is out in the field and needs help, they’re supposed to call the help desk and ask for assistance. I need to contact my boss and let him know what’s happening here, or what I think is happening here, and let him decide what to do.” She looked over at the Sheriff as he prepared to climb up on the podium, her eyes thinned to slits. “With that jerk in charge around here, things could get bad really fast.”
Norma nodded. The current Sheriff certainly was a piece of work, but at least the State Police guy had arrived before the weather had them completely socked in - he seemed to know what he was talking about. And the FBI was here, in town, and Norma figured that was the best chance of getting this whole thing resolved, and fast. Norma saw Joyce down there by the podium, and some lady from the press looked like she was trying to interview her, asking her questions, but Joyce was just shaking her head, saying nothing. Norma didn’t mention anything to anyone about Joyce - she didn’t want her friend to get dragged into any of this if it could be helped. It was too bad about Julie’s little phone, though - if only she could get in touch with her superiors, they could send in agents and take over the investigation of this case...
