MAD AS BELL

by Jeremy Waldron

  King folded up the address and tucked it away in his front pocket when asking, “Was Eva dehydrated when she came in?”

  “She was,” Gray concurred.

  “Thirsty,” Alvarez said. “It’s also slang for ‘desperate for attention.’”

  They had two young women with similar bind marks on their wrists. Was their case as simple as linking them to a street hustler pimping these girls out? King wasn’t sure, at least not until Eva started talking, but Alvarez might be onto something with figuring out what Eva meant by repeatedly saying thirsty.

  A doctor exited Eva’s room and called over to Detective Gray. Gray handed King a thick dossier of missing persons and said, “Look through there. It’s possible your Jane Doe could be one our missing girls.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cooper jumped on me and nearly knocked me over as soon as I opened the front door to my house. His tail was wagging, his long tongue dangling out the side of his mouth.

  “Down boy,” I said, pushing him to all fours.

  After canvasing the Park Hill neighborhood and getting nowhere, Erin and I decided to call it a night. Mason and Nolan were still glued to the TV screen playing video games. Their eyes were bloodshot from hours of gaming; Chad had gone home.

  “Mom, can Nolan sleep over?” Mason asked.

  “It’s a school night,” I reminded him. “I think it’s time to shut off the games.”

  Mason and Nolan finished their game as Erin headed into the kitchen and filled two glasses with red wine from my Black Box. I said goodbye to Nolan, told him to drive carefully, and as soon as I turned back around Erin was handing me a glass and turning on the ten o’clock news.

  Heidi Mitchell was reporting. Nothing was being said about the Jane Doe in Park Hill, or about Megan Hines. It was just here and now, more gloating about a victory in infrastructure the mayor managed to win.

  “Can you believe she took home so many awards tonight?” Erin turned to look at me with a furrowed brow. “There is nothing special about Heidi Mitchell.”

  I was at the bookshelf fingering the spines when I heard the coverage of tonight’s protests come on. Turning to look over my shoulder, I listened to the story we saw with our own eyes. It was your classic me-against-you news coverage and did little to actually provide the public with any real information.

  Staring at the screen, Erin asked, “Are we that easily manipulated?”

  “I’m afraid we are,” I said.

  There was more to it than that, and even though I had no evidence to suggest the mayor was behind the distraction, I still thought my theory made sense. Besides, just like the conspiracy I had rolling around my brain, we had no proof a murder in Park Hill even occurred.

  I found the title I was looking for and dropped into the sofa chair, ready to read with my glass of wine. Stretching my legs out in front of me, I thought about how a murder was swept under the rug before a single journalist had a chance to report on it. Where had King been, let alone any other detective? The crime scene was noticeably bare and didn’t leave me with a good feeling.

  Erin rolled her eyes to me. “What book is that?”

  I showed her the cover. “Archie Smith’s.”

  “You think he’s right? Could there really be a serial killer working our city?”

  “Anything is possible,” I said, leafing through the pages. “But how would he know if there was? He’s not even from here.”

  “Information travels. People talk.” Erin shrugged.

  I found myself reading a chapter detailing PQK’s victims. Apparently, he had a thing for a certain type of girl. Each victim was popular and beautiful. They had many friends, and secretly a bit of a wild side. And all were between the ages of 16 to 19 years old. It was how Archie came up with the name Prom Queen Killer, but it was the next chapter that really got my attention.

  “Listen to this,” I said to Erin. “According to this, the Prom Queen Killer communicated to the media through cut-out messages—each word taken from a passage written by his favorite journalists.”

  “Sick bastard. But we know it’s not PQK who left that message for you to find.”

  “No, but after speaking with Archie tonight, it did cross my mind that maybe he was the one who left it.”

  “Okay, let’s say he did. What’s he mean by you’ll disappear with them if you’re not careful?”

  I cast my gaze back to the book and thought about Archie suddenly finding himself here in Colorado. The coincidence scared me, but I wasn’t quite convinced that was what was happening here. There were obvious differences, and I told Erin as much.

  The messages PQK wrote to the press were his way of controlling the narrative. He didn’t like how the media described his crimes as being sexual in nature, even though that was exactly what they were. To him, it was about control, wanting to take on a paternal role by giving himself the image he always thought himself as having instead of letting strangers decide who he was. The message given to me was clearly to make me hesitate, and I was still convinced it had everything to do with my desire to find Megan Hines. But who left it for me to find? And was it to intimidate or help? I wasn’t sure.

  “We’ll keep this in mind,” I said, holding up Archie’s book, “but I would like to get to the morgue early tomorrow morning and learn the identity of tonight’s Jane Doe.”

  Erin stood and gave me a hug. She said, “It’s up to us to give these women a voice.”

  I walked Erin to her car and waited on the sidewalk until her taillights disappeared around the corner before heading back into the house. The streets were dark, the house quiet. But I couldn’t get the thought of tonight’s Jane Doe out of my head, so I did what I did best. I sat down and began to write.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thirsty was parked across the street from a popular bar near the Denver University campus on the south side of the city when his cellphone buzzed with a message. There were young women everywhere tonight, coming and going, without any clue to the threat that lurked nearby.

  He glanced to his phone, opened his dating app, and swiped through the girl’s profile pictures who’d just messaged him until he decided she didn’t have what he was looking for. Closing out his phone, he pulled the mirror on his face and tipped forward in his seat. Surprised his chin hadn’t swollen after receiving the tremendous blow from the wooden chair leg Eva had swung at him nearly twenty-four hours ago, Thirsty was grateful for the small piece of luck. He tilted his head to the side and worked the tension out of his neck with his hand. Thanks to his beard, there wasn’t even a noticeable mark.

  Thirsty went back to staring at the bar’s entrance. Patrons were huddled in circles, smoking and laughing, drunk on youth.

  He sat there for over an hour, letting the parking meter tick away the minutes, spinning the prescription bottle inside his hand. Waiting for the right girl to come along, he was beginning to relax. The drugs were finally taking effect. High on valium and dependent on Vicodin, Thirsty washed his mixture of pills down with a half-pint of vodka when he finally spotted the flowing jet-black hair that gave him reason to pause.

  Her angelic white shirt was tightly wrapped around her filled breasts and exposing her mid-drift. The girl’s jeans were equally tight fitting, and her boots traveled all the way to her knees. She shared similar features to Eva. Long legs, thick thighs, square shoulders, and head held high. Thirsty admired her confidence. Raising his cellphone to the window sill of his truck, he waited for her to show her face. When she did, he snapped a couple photos unknowingly.

  The girl paused and stared.

  He swore she looked him directly in his eye.

  His heart skipped a beat. Tonight she was with girlfriends, and though they were just as beautiful as she was, they didn’t share the same secret as the girl Thirsty had his eye set on.

  Unable to take his eyes off his prize, Thirsty wanted to wave and blow a kiss but knew he’d soon get his chance. Turning over the engine, he put the truck in gear
and pointed the hood toward her. As the tires rolled right in front of her, he said, “Now that I’m learning your routine, you can’t escape me.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  A half-hour later, Thirsty circled the neighborhood a couple of times before feeling confident enough to turn the wheel into the driveway leading up to the house where he had kept Eva. There was no telling who might be waiting for him—who might be watching—or what had happened to the house after he’d left.

  Approaching the front of the building, he pulled down the visor, punched the opener button with his finger and watched the garage door lift. He parked inside and closed the door behind him—tucking himself in for the night.

  He still couldn’t believe she’d escaped. What a foolish mistake he had made, he thought as he twisted off the cap to the new half-pint of vodka he’d purchased on his way here.

  With the truck’s engine off, he pulled a mighty swig from the bottle. The clear liquid gurgled in the bottle as it slid down his throat, warming his insides instantly.

  Breathing out fire, Thirsty wondered if his depression had really gotten this bad. Apparently so, because he was here, cleaning up a mess he thought he’d never have to face. Another couple of swigs and he screwed the cap back on, exited his vehicle, and entered the house.

  Turning on the lights, the house was empty. He ducked under thick plastic hanging from the ceiling and stepped over buckets of paint and mortar. His boots echoed off the sheetrock as he passed through each room before descending downstairs to the basement.

  A cool, dry breeze swirled around him as he flicked on a flashlight, illuminating the path before him.

  It was here he had once dreamed of creating his Play Pen. A place he could bring his girls and do what he wanted to them without fear of his neighbors hearing their screams. He’d planned it all, down to the last soundproof detail. Though it was still a work in progress, his only mistake had been taking Eva before his Play Pen was complete.

  He continued walking. The door to the Pen was still open. He entered the room and shined his light over the floor. The story of what happened was everywhere, masked only by Eva’s heady scent still lingering in the air.

  Thirsty closed his eyes, filled his lungs with a deep breath of air, and tipped his head back on his shoulders. Memories of Eva played out on the movie screen of his mind. Soon, he exhaled his doubts and remembered how empowering it felt to have Eva in his possession.

  Slowly, he opened his eyes and his muscles tensed. He wanted to feel those same emotions again, be the man he knew he could be. Powerful. In control. At his complete mercy.

  In a burst of rage, he stomped on the broken chair, further shattering it beneath the sharp heel of his boot. Then he swung his body around and sent his fist flying into the sheetrock, punching a hole in the wall. A loud scream ripped from his lungs as he roared into the ceiling.

  He felt trapped—stuck in a life he didn’t want to live any longer. How did he get here? Where did it go so wrong? This wasn’t how he saw his future. He expected more—and now needed to escape his past in order to be the man he’d always envisioned.

  After calming himself down, he rationalized his situation and worked to gather the broken pieces of chair, along with any other evidence of his kidnapping. He tossed everything into a dumpster out front and added it to the pile of discarded construction material when suddenly he spotted the unmistakable blue and red lights on top of a squad car approaching at a crawl from the north.

  Paranoid from the drugs, Thirsty reacted quickly and dove into the shadows before being seen. Pressing his shoulders against the vinyl siding of the house, he watched with intense bug eyes as the police drove by. His heart hammered against his ribs, but they never stopped.

  The cops were on to him.

  Thirsty grinned as a new surge lit up his spine like a fuse.

  He liked the game he’d created—liked the idea of playing hide and seek even better. He was just like the Prom Queen Killer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Now he couldn’t be stopped. He was manic and on a binge—perhaps a little out of control.

  Thirsty leaned across the center console and opened the glove box. It was dark in the cab of his truck, but a nearby street lamp provided enough light to see. Diving his hand inside, he rummaged around before closing his fingers around an eyeglass case. Bringing it into his lap, he flipped the lid and fingered through the expensive jewelry stored inside, glittering in the light.

  “If you want to get noticed, you must peacock for attention.” He laughed.

  The wolf came out at night, he thought as he clasped the gold necklace around his neck and slid the matching band over his wrist. Next came the rings, followed up by the diamond-studded earring he poked through his left lobe. He’d trimmed his beard down to a goatee at the house and a spray of cologne topped off his appearance. He was ready for the hunt.

  After seeing the cops pass in front of the house, something inside of him snapped. Not entirely convinced they were looking for him, he pretended they were. It made his game fun—emboldened him to try his hand at taking another girl.

  Thirsty stared into his wild eyes, liking what he saw, then put the truck in gear and eased his foot off the brake. Around the corner were two girls working the streets looking for tonight’s customers. He’d driven by them and liked what he saw. As soon as he curbed the truck next to them, he powered down the window and called them over.

  “Hey, honey, whatcha looking for tonight?” a teenage girl revealing cleavage said.

  He stroked his chin, letting his gaze fall to her neck. “I’m kind of thirsty,” he said.

  The girl giggled and commented on his jewelry.

  “Get inside,” Thirsty responded. “I’ll show it to you, maybe even let you wear it.”

  The girl smiled but didn’t make a move. “One hundred for anything you want.”

  Thirsty eyed the other girl. “I want both of you…together.”

  The girls looked at each other. Thirsty watched them consider his proposition, hashing out the private details with only their eyes. A second later, the girl leaning on his window sill said, “Okay. We’ll do it, but double the price.”

  Thirsty bit his lower lip and squinted his eyes. His gaze drifted to the valleys of their breasts and their thin necks that he wanted to wrap his fingers around until they could no longer breathe. They were so young, but surely soaked like a dirty oil rag from working these streets far too many nights of the week.

  “So, what do you say, mister? You in or not?”

  “Step into the light.” Thirsty beckoned them closer with his finger. “I want to see your face.”

  The girl leaned into the light.

  Thirsty knew he could do better. As tempting as they both were, they weren’t perfect. Besides, this wasn’t a challenge. Everybody had a price and they’d set theirs. Unfortunately for them, it was the wrong offer. Then an idea struck.

  “Forget it,” he said, powering up the window with the girl’s thin arm still resting on the sill. She jumped back and squealed as he drove away to find his perfect companion.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Naomi Moss finished scrolling through her WhatsApp account and put her phone down. The man she’d seen staring was still eyeing her from across the Burger King. She whispered to her friend, “Do you know him?”

  Jenny Booth swept her eyes off her phone’s screen and frowned when casting her gaze across the room. “Never seen him before.”

  Naomi felt a cool breeze on her neck. “He keeps staring at us.”

  Jenny ignored the stares and went back to texting. “He’s just thirsty for attention.”

  “It’s creeping me out,” Naomi murmured. “Maybe we should go.”

  Jenny dropped her phone down and gave Naomi an arched look. Then she turned to the man, made a V with her fingers and pressed them to her lips, sticking her tongue through them as she wiggled the tip of it.

  “Jenny!” Naomi leaned into her friend’s should
er, giggling. “You’re crazy, you know that? What’s gotten into you?”

  The stranger stood and left the building. Jenny said, “There. Better?”

  “Yes. Much better.” Naomi stuck out her tongue and made a face.

  “They just want sex.” Jenny’s thumbs tapped at her phone’s screen. “It’s what all men want. Speaking of which,” she swept her gaze to Naomi, “have you decided how to respond to Dylan’s request?”

  “I can’t do it,” Naomi said.

  Jenny furrowed her brow. “He promised he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  Naomi sighed, unsure what to do. She liked Dylan—a lot. But what he was asking her to do was something she’d never considered before—even if it was what everyone in school did for attention.

  “You’ve been waiting for him to notice you and now that he has, you’re going to turn your back and run?” Jenny pursed her lips and gave Naomi a look. “C’mon,” she waved for Naomi’s phone, “I’ll do it for you.”

  Naomi reeled her phone into her side. “I don’t know.”

  “Fine. If you’re not going to give him what he asked for, why not ask for his first?”

  Naomi’s jaw dropped.

  “Guys do it too.” Jenny shrugged.

  Naomi’s cheeks bloomed as Jenny’s phone buzzed. She knew guys were doing it too. That wasn’t the problem. Naomi just couldn’t see herself actually asking Dylan to do it first.

  “Who are you talking to?” Naomi asked, casting her gaze to Jenny’s phone.

  “Mom’s late on her bills again.” Jenny’s shoulders sagged. Then she jumped with excitement. “So, are we doing this for Dylan or not?”

  Naomi gave a skeptical look. “We?”

  “Yeah. As in, you and me.” Jenny’s eyes widened a fraction. “I take the photo and you…”