by David Archer
She laughed softly. “I’m better now,” she said. “Always helps to hear from my baby boy. You think you might be coming by anytime soon? I’d love to see you again.”
He bit his bottom lip. He hadn’t been back to Jenksville in many years, and the only person he’d even think about seeing there would be his mother. C.J. had been one of the wild boys in town, and while he’d done okay with the girls there as a teenager, he sure as hell wasn’t interested in meeting up with whoever his mom might try to introduce him to now.
“Wow, I don’t know, Mom,” he said. “The company keeps me moving pretty hard, you know. I got a couple dozen clients to see over the next few days, so I don’t know when I’ll get time. I’d like to see you, though. Maybe in a couple months I can get a week off, come down and visit for a few days.”
The smile in her voice was worth telling that same tired old lie again. No matter how many times he said it, she always believed him. As far as she knew, he was a corporate troubleshooter, working for some big high tech company. His job, he had told her, involved visiting clients of the company to help them solve problems with the big generators that kept them running when the power went down. That was why he was always on the road, never in the same place for more than a few days at a time.
Well, maybe it was time to go visit her. He hadn’t been home since the day he left more than ten years earlier, and he was certain that nobody back there gave any thought to him. Since nobody had any idea about his hobby, and he was always careful with the homeless guys, he was pretty sure a visit home would be safe.
Of course, he’d have to stash the van somewhere and get a better car. Might need to pick up some nicer clothes, too.
“Tell you what, Mom,” he said. “I think I could squeeze out a week after this trip. How about if I come down next Wednesday? Would that be okay?”
“Next Wednesday?” she asked, excitement obvious in her voice. “Really? It’s been so long, I’d love to see you.”
Hearing her so happy made him smile. “Yeah, I’ll be there Wednesday. Maybe we can go out for dinner when I get there, that be okay?”
“C.J., that would be wonderful.”
They talked for a few more minutes, and then he got off the phone. If he was going to go back to his old hometown, he needed to do some planning. A nice car, some new clothes, maybe pick up a few little gifts for his mom; all that would take some money, but he had plenty of it stashed away in various accounts. Living on the road the way he did, he didn’t spend a lot of money on things he didn’t need.
The rush was starting to wear off, and he always felt tired when it did. The sign beside the highway told him there was a motel at the next exit, and he moved into the right lane.
When the exit appeared, he put on his signal and took the ramp. The motel was a little way down the frontage road, an old place that wasn’t part of any of the big chains. Instead of one big building full of rooms, it was individual cabins. That was perfect as far as he was concerned, and he smiled affably at the old man who ran the place while he checked in.
He ended up with the cabin at the far end, even though there were only a couple other people staying at the place. That was fine by him, he didn’t really like dealing with other people when he was trying to rest. He went into the cabin and tossed his bag onto the bed, then threw himself down beside it and reached for the TV remote. The sign out front said they had HBO, so he was hoping to find a movie he could watch while he let himself relax.
It was set to the news channel when it came on, and the announcer was talking about some guy being arrested for the murder of a young girl. C.J. started to change the channel, but when he saw that the story was coming out of Fort Collins, he took his thumb off the button.
Sure enough, they arrested somebody for what he’d done a few weeks ago. He’d been hunting in Fort Collins when he spotted the girl walking alone down a deserted street, and it hadn’t taken him long to charm her into a ride. He’d told her he was lost and was trying to find the home of a friend, and convinced her to show him how to get there. She had been more than happy to help, and hadn’t even gotten scared until she realized he was headed out of town.
That had been a busy place, he remembered. It had taken him a while to find somewhere to indulge himself, and he’d finally had to settle for doing the deed inside his van again, behind some big old building off one of the smaller highways. He had parked the van behind it, where he couldn’t be seen, and then climbed back to where she was tied up and started ripping her clothes. He raped her and murdered her in his van, letting her blood leak out through a couple of holes in the floor. It wasn’t the first time he had used the van that way, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last.
Still, it had been satisfying, but then he had to figure out what to do with the body. He cruised around back roads for a couple of hours before he found an old factory building that looked abandoned. He sat and watched it for an hour to make sure no one was around, then took her body inside and covered it with some old blankets that local teenagers had left there.
He knew she’d be found, but he planned to be long gone before then. He hadn’t even stopped to eat until the next day, wanting to put as many miles as he could between her and himself. Before he stopped to get breakfast, he had found a coin-operated car wash and carefully cleaned the inside of the van, then replaced the rubber plugs in the holes. He figured it wouldn’t do for someone to notice drops of blood that might trickle out in a parking lot or something. He had even crawled under it and washed the undercarriage, just in case some blood had gotten on the frame or something.
This was something new, though. Somebody had actually been arrested for what he had done, and the announcer was saying something about the prosecutors being certain they got the right man. He turned up the volume and listened.
“According to Deputy District Attorney Leon Jamison, DNA evidence collected from the victim positively identifies former police officer and private investigator Sam Prichard as the primary suspect in this case. Mr. Prichard was granted bail this morning by Judge Alfred Kaufman, but he is required to wear a GPS monitor at all times until he goes to trial.”
Just to the right of the announcer was a photograph of Sam Prichard, and C.J. stared at it.
DNA? C.J. thought. How in the world could they find that man’s DNA on my murder victim? And how in the world can somebody look that much like me?
C.J. reached for his laptop. The guy’s name was Sam Prichard, and he was the spitting image of C.J., minus the scars on his face. Maybe it was time to learn a little bit more about Sam Prichard.
TEN
“Hey, Sly,” Sylvester Martin heard. He pulled his head down out of the undercarriage of the car on the rack to see who had spoken to him, then rolled his eyes. A police officer, Patrolman Artie White, was standing in the shop door, a grin on his face. He and Sylvester had been in high school together, and Artie had always teased him about his name.
“Artie,” Sylvester said. “What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for a car,” Artie said. “Five-year-old Malibu, might’ve come in for some power steering work. Seen anything like that lately?”
Sylvester twisted his face as he thought about it. “Yeah,” he said. “Matter of fact, I just put a new power steering pump on one a few days ago.”
“Was it a white one? Or a light color, at least?”
Sylvester nodded. “Kind of an off-white,” he said. “Why you looking for it?”
“Because the person driving it might be a witness to a crime. We’re trying to lock down all the little details, and this person might have some information we need.”
Sylvester looked at him for a moment, then nodded again. “Come on in the office. I got all the information in there.” He wiped his hands on a rag and hung it on the rack, then led the way into the office at the back of the shop. It took him a moment to find the paperwork he was looking for, but then he just handed it over.
“Sarah Washington,” h
e said. “Her car is only four years old, but they look the same as the one from the year before. Power steering line was spraying all over the place and she kept adding fluid. Finally dawned on her there might be a leak and she brought it in to get fixed.”
Artie grinned. “I know her,” he said. “She’s a cutie, isn’t she?”
Sylvester returned the grin. “Ain’t no lie,” he said. “Bit of a flirt, too. She asked me if there was anything she could do to cut the bill down, and it wasn’t hard to figure out what she was offering. If I’d been single...”
“I know what you mean. I pulled her over a couple months back for speeding and she hinted the same kind of thing to me. I didn’t take her up on it, but I let her off with a warning. Can I get a copy of this? Detectives might want it.”
Sylvester took the bill back from him and stuck it in the copier, then hit the print button. When the copier spit it out, he handed it over and put the original back into his file.
“She’s not in trouble, is she?” he asked.
“No. Not with us, anyway. We just have reason to believe she might have been out at the maintenance garage when that little girl got killed a few weeks ago. Detectives are hoping she might have seen something that can help confirm the case against that guy Prichard.”
The grin on Sylvester’s face turned into a scowl. “I hope she can,” he said. “Anybody who would do that to a young girl, he deserves everything they can throw at him.”
“Ain’t that the truth? Thanks, Sly. Now I have to go find Sarah and take her in so the detectives can talk to her.” He waved a hand at Sylvester and made his way out of the shop to his patrol car, then drove away.
Sylvester sat where he was for a moment. Hopefully, Sarah wouldn’t mention that she had gotten her repair work for free. Artie would never let him live that down.
* * * * *
Sarah Washington lived in a trailer park in one of the seedier sections of town, if any area in Fort Collins could actually be called seedy. There were a few trailers in the park that probably dated back into the late nineties, but all of them were in pretty good condition. Sarah’s was on one of the back streets in the park, a double wide that boasted an actual front porch one of her former husbands had built on.
Artie pulled up in front of it and got out of his car, noticing that the Malibu was sitting in the driveway. He only made it halfway up the walk toward the porch steps by the time Sarah opened the door and stuck her face out.
“Can I help you?” she asked, sounding a bit nervous.
Artie grinned. “Hey, Sarah,” he said. “Relax, you’re not in any kind of trouble. We just need to talk to you about something you might’ve seen a while back.”
Sarah’s eyes got a little bit wider. “I haven’t seen anything,” she said rapidly. “What are you talking about?”
Artie’s grin slipped a bit. “Sarah, we know your car was out of the maintenance garage around the time that little girl got murdered out there. Detective O’Rourke at the Sheriff’s office wants to talk to you, see if maybe you could give him some better information on the killer or his van. I need you to come down to the station with me.”
“I haven’t been near the maintenance garage,” she said. “You got me mixed up with somebody else.”
The grin disappeared completely. “Sarah, they saw your car on the security video. You drove away just a few minutes after the killer did, and we know your car was parked there because of the power steering fluid all over the ground. Now, just relax. We know you didn’t do anything wrong, we just need to talk to you about what you might’ve seen.”
Sarah deflated. “But I can’t,” she said. “I really didn’t see anything. I was just sitting there when that man showed up, and I was afraid I was going to get in trouble for being there so I hid down in the seat. I didn’t see anything at all, I just waited until the van was gone so I could get out of there.”
Artie shook his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I was told to bring you in to answer some questions, so you got to come with me. You can come voluntarily, or I can take you in, it’s up to you.”
She let out a sigh, but then stepped away from the door for a moment and returned with her purse in her hand. “Okay, fine,” she said. “Should I just follow you?”
Artie looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “Better yet, I’ll follow you,” he said. “You know where the Sheriff’s office is. Just go on down there and I’ll take you in to see the detective. Don’t try to run off, Sarah, don’t try to play any games. You do, and then you will be in trouble.”
“I said okay, didn’t I?” She stepped out the door in a huff and locked it behind her, then got into her car. Artie climbed back into his own and waited for her to back out, then followed her out of the park toward downtown. He called ahead to let O’Rourke know he had found the possible witness and was bringing her in.
The drive only took about fifteen minutes, and Sarah pulled into a parking spot in front of the building. Artie parked beside her, then got out of his own car and walked around to open her door. When she stepped out, he took hold of her arm gently and they walked into the Sheriff’s office together.
O’Rourke was waiting in his office when they walked in, and he stood up with a smile and extended a hand. Artie gave him a short wave and backed out of the room, closing the door on them.
“Ms. Washington? Thank you for coming in. I’m Detective David O’Rourke, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Sarah took his hand and shook it limply, then plopped down in a chair facing his desk. “I tried to tell the cop, I really didn’t see anything.”
“I’ve learned that people often see things they don’t even realize they saw,” O’Rourke said. “But let’s start at the beginning. We know your car was parked out beside the maintenance garage that day. Can you tell me why you were there?”
Sarah sank into her chair and tried to look invisible, but it wasn’t working. “I’d rather not say,” she said. “I mean, okay, I was there, but I’d really rather not say why I went out there, if that’s all right.”
“I’m afraid it’s not all right,” O’Rourke said. He allowed his face to take on a bit of sternness. “Ms. Washington, I’m dealing with the murder of a young girl. Now, there was some reason you were sitting in that particular spot at that particular time. I need to know what the reason was, and I don’t need you to play any games with me.”
Sarah looked at him for a moment, biting her bottom lip. “I went out there to meet somebody,” she said at last. “I didn’t think anybody would be around, and I didn’t want to be seen.”
O’Rourke nodded. “Relax, Ms. Washington,” he said. “You’re not in any kind of trouble. Who did you go to meet?”
“That part I’m not telling,” she said. “Besides, he never showed up. I was actually about to drive away when I saw the van in my rearview mirror. It came up the driveway and went around the building on the other side, then stopped behind the building. I could just see the front of it, but I didn’t want anybody to know I was there, so I scooted way down in the seat and hid.”
“But you could still see the front end of the van?” O’Rourke asked.
Sarah shrugged. “I guess I could,” she said. “I was kinda looking through the steering wheel, so I couldn’t see it real good.”
“Did you happen to get a look at the man who was driving it? Think hard, Ms. Washington, this is very important. Did you see the man who was driving that van?”She shrugged again. “I guess I did,” she said. “I mean, I could see him through his windshield.”
O’Rourke reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a stack of papers, then held them out to Sarah. “Ms. Washington, these are photographs. I’d like you to look through them and see if any of them looks like the man you saw in that van that day.”
Sarah looked at the papers in his hand for several seconds before she reached out to take them. When she did, she flipped through them one at a time.
The third photograph made her pau
se. She looked at it closely for a moment, then went through the rest of them. When she was finished, she pulled the third one out again and held it up.
“I think this was him,” she said. “Looks like him, anyway.”
O’Rourke felt a rush of excitement. The photograph she had chosen was of Sam Prichard.
“Would you swear to that in court?” he asked. “If you were on the witness stand, would you be able to say that was the man you saw?”
Sarah looked at him. “I guess so,” she said. “I mean, it really does look like him. I couldn’t really see him clearly, but well enough to say this looks like the same guy.”
O’Rourke smiled. “Okay, that’s good,” he said. “Now we need to talk about what else you might’ve seen. We know that the van was shaking a lot. Did you see or hear anything during that time, other than just the van itself?”
Sarah’s eyes suddenly brimmed over with tears and she lowered them to the floor. “I heard screaming,” she said. “I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t know what was happening, but I heard that poor girl screaming. I thought, you know, maybe I should call for help, but—I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t know if maybe it was just some people having an argument or something. There was screaming for a little bit, and then it stopped, and then—well, that’s when the van started shaking. I thought maybe it was just like a lovers quarrel or something, and they were making up.”
O’Rourke felt his throat tighten. “But the screaming had stopped before that?”
“Yeah,” Sarah said, nodding. “But then, a little bit later, it started up again. Only lasted a few seconds, and then a little bit later it got even louder.” She looked up at him. “I heard that man,” she said. “I heard him yelling something, but I couldn’t make out the words. And then, just a little bit later, I saw him get back up in the front and I ducked down again. He didn’t see me, I guess, because he just pulled out and went around me. I waited a few minutes to see if he was going to come back, and then I just decided I wanted to get out of there. I started up my car and I left, and—oh, God, there was so much blood. I saw it, I knew it was, and I just—I just had to get out of there.”
