BURN IN BELL

by Jeremy Waldron

  “That she keeps seeing the Pillow Strangler.”

  King lifted his head and felt his veins open up. If Mr. Knight was trying to get his attention, he’d just found it.

  “I don’t even know what that means, but she’s clearly frightened of it.”

  It? The Pillow Strangler was no it. He was a monster who may or may not be playing games with me, King thought as he reached behind his neck and wagged his head from side to side until he heard it crack. “I’ll be right over.”

  “That’s not necessary, Detective.”

  King disagreed. “Where is she now?”

  “In the courtyard enjoying her coffee. Mr. King, I assure you we’re doing everything we can to comfort your mother. I just thought you might have a message I could relay to her that might convince her that her room is in fact a safe place for her to live?”

  King shifted his weight to the opposite foot and said, “No. That’s quite all right. Knowing my mother, she won’t listen to anybody but me.”

  “I really don’t want to have you come here,” Tristan solemnly said.

  “Keep a close eye on her and I’ll see you soon.” King ended his call, not giving the nurse a choice in the matter, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he fought to contain the headache from spreading.

  First Mason, and now his mother. Of all days for things to go wrong, he wished today wasn’t it.

  Blinking the stars out of his eyes, King asked what the chances of his mother actually seeing Orville Boyd were. Was it possible Boyd skirted past security to haunt his mother? Or was it a product of her imagination? King wasn’t about to discredit either without first speaking to his mother, but he suspected this might be a result of the conversation she overheard him and Samantha having at last night’s dinner.

  The door opened behind him and Alvarez poked his head through. “Everything all right?”

  King picked up his head, turned, and nodded. “Did you locate Marty Ray’s record?”

  Alvarez walked over and stood next to King. He tucked his chin and stared from behind a low brow. With hands buried in his pockets, he rocked on his heels. “Don’t lie to me partner. I know when something’s up. If you need to talk—”

  King’s lungs released as he continued to hold Alvarez’s gaze. There was more he had to say, but not here. “We have work to do.”

  Alvarez didn’t move. He continued to stare into King’s eyes, blocking his pursuit. “You have something you need to say?”

  King held his gaze and swallowed. “I do.”

  “Then go on,” Alvarez’s expression was stern, “say it.”

  “C’mon,” King ducked his head and stepped around Alvarez, “I’ll explain in the car.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  King waited for a response from Alvarez who still had a blank look on his face. The red light flicked to green and King eased his foot off the brake and onto the accelerator.

  He regretted telling Alvarez that his mother knew about Orville Boyd’s possible return. He knew what Alvarez was thinking long before he said anything. Finally, after a long pause, Alvarez shook his head and flicked his gaze out the window. “Not the smartest dinner conversation to have, don’t you think?”

  “It’s not like I planned her to hear what was being discussed.” King kept one hand on the wheel as he drove steadily across town. Traffic was dense, the air hot and dry. “Mom overheard a conversation she shouldn’t have. It happens.”

  Alvarez turned to look at King. “And who might have this conversation been with?”

  King flicked his eyes to his partner, a knowing glimmer there.

  “One of these days you’re going to get yourself in trouble.”

  King shrugged it off, knowing he needed Samantha as much as she needed him—both personally and professionally.

  “You should really consider leaving work at work.”

  King knew a detective’s life was work. Twenty-four-seven. Night and day. And dating Samantha wasn’t anything new to Alvarez. King knew he walked a fine line when discussing cases with Samantha, but she was discreet and had a relationship with the department that was based on trust. It was a symbiotic relationship. One he hoped wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

  With one hand on the steering wheel, King flicked his eyes in Alvarez’s direction. “You know she was approached by an investor?”

  Alvarez turned and faced King. “Samantha?”

  King nodded. “Walter Walker.”

  Alvarez’s eyebrows raised. “The Million Dollar Man?”

  “Wants to turn Samantha into a star.”

  “No shit.” King nodded and Alvarez asked what the catch was. “There’s always a catch. Am I wrong?”

  King wagged his head. “Apparently he has a thing for cold cases.”

  “Just what we need.” Alvarez looked ahead and curled his fingers over his kneecap. “More amateur sleuths following us around.”

  King put on his blinker and merged into the next lane over. “That’s why they found themselves looking for Orville Boyd. Samantha was there when Officers Smith and Morgan responded to what was now Avery’s last call of duty.”

  Alvarez’s elbow was perched on the window sill, his hand over his mouth as he exhaled a heavy sigh. “I heard Lester isn’t taking the news well.”

  “No, I imagine he’s not,” King said somberly, feeling his own heart ache.

  The wheels hummed over the hot pavement as they drove in silence the rest of the way to the assisted living facility. After parking and setting the brake, Alvarez said, “You want to know what I can’t stop thinking about?”

  King cast his gaze to his lap and listened.

  “Who the hell knows so much about you?”

  King’s heartrate spiked as he stared into the bushes ahead. He’d thought about the memories each of the crime scenes sparked, memories he’d thought he’d buried and forgotten. Peggy Hill was targeted because of him, and so was Avery. Alvarez knew it as well as King, but the question was why?

  “I’ve been asking myself the same question,” King muttered to a quiet cab.

  Alvarez shifted in his seat. “And?”

  In a low volume, King shared his theory about his father. “The night I won the baseball championship wasn’t only the best night of my life. It was also the best night of his life as well.”

  After letting it sit for a moment, Alvarez asked, “Who would know that but you?”

  King shook his head, unsure himself. “All I know is that Peggy and Avery weren’t chosen at random.”

  Their eyes met and Alvarez said, “You know I like Samantha, but I’d be worried about her if I were you.”

  King’s jaw clenched and he cracked his door open. A flood of dry heat came rushing inside the car. The truth was hard to swallow. King was worried about Sam too, but he was also concerned about his mother. If he was right about being the link to both murders, then either of the two women he loved most could be the killer’s next target.

  “C’mon.” King’s foot stamped down on the pavement. “Let’s go see what’s up with Mom. If anybody could pick Orville Boyd out from the crowd, it would be her.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  King stopped at the entrance to the facility long enough to inspect the lock on the front door. He doubted Orville Boyd—or someone like him—would have the nerve to step inside a building like this with the amount of security that was in place.

  As if reading King’s thoughts, Alvarez said, “Boyd would be an idiot to walk in here and think you’d never know about it.”

  “Unless he wanted me to know,” King said softly.

  He brushed his thumb over the deadbolt, still hesitant to believe his mother had actually seen the Pillow Strangler. But the truth was, people close to him were being targeted. If they could get to a cop, they could certainly get to his mother.

  “Detective King.” Tristan Knight walked briskly to the door. “Thank you for coming. I’m so sorry to have to pull you away from your work.”

&nb
sp; King remained focused on the lock. Once Tristan was within earshot, he asked, “What time do these doors close for the night?”

  “Nine p.m. we lock the facility.” Tristan stepped forward and pointed to a chrome box on the outside wall. “After that, each resident and their guests must buzz themselves in.”

  Both King and Alvarez swept their gaze to the small speaker box attached to the outside wall. Alvarez asked, “Who answers that call?”

  “Front desk.” Tristan bounced his gaze between the men, reminding King of the security measures put in place. There were cameras and a login sheet that every visitor was required to sign, as well as a list of guests flagged whose visiting privileges had been restricted or revoked, often at the request of a resident. Then he added, “Night security escorts residents in and out after hours. No one comes and goes without us knowing about it. Which makes your mother’s story all the more bizarre.”

  King reached his hand inside his sport jacket pocket and produced a photo of Orville Boyd. “Have you seen this guy before?”

  Tristan pinched the corner of the image with his right hand. His eyes focused as he studied the photograph. “I have.”

  King tilted his ear toward Tristan, surprised by his answer. “You have?”

  “Not here, of course.” He swung his eyes to Alvarez. “After I called, I did some research on the internet and learned who he was. The way your mother couldn’t stop talking about him, I needed to make sure that what she was saying was real.”

  King glanced over Tristan’s shoulder toward reception and asked, “Where is she now?”

  “We finally got your mother back inside her room.” Tristan motioned for them to follow. “Please follow me.”

  King nodded and took the first step into the building.

  Tristan was one step behind when he said, “She’ll be happy to see you.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Alvarez caught King by the arm. “We better get the names of those working the nightshift.”

  King shared a quick glance with his partner before catching Tristan’s attention. “Before we get to my mother, I’d like to see the visitor log from last night if you don’t mind?”

  Tristan shortened his step, looked unsure of himself, then nodded. “Not a problem.”

  The three men stepped up to the front desk and Alvarez smiled at the woman sitting behind the computer. Tristan made the request and soon King had the log sheet in front of him. He trailed his finger down the list of names, reading each one next to the date and time of when they arrived and departed.

  “I don’t see his name,” Alvarez said.

  King picked up his head. “It’s not here.”

  “We had our fair share of traffic, but it was rather quiet for a Friday night,” Tristan said. “It’s not unusual for our staff to be quite busy most weekends.”

  Closing up the three-ringed binder, King said, “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  Heading to Carol King’s room, they rounded a corner, passing other residents strolling the hallways. King caught glimpses into a couple rooms whose doors were left open. TVs were on and books were pulled up to noses—nothing unusual. No one looked panicked, no one seemed concerned by their presence.

  The scent of lunch cooking grew stronger as they skirted the back edges of the cafeteria and, as soon they headed down the hallway where King’s mother lived, they heard Carol’s loud voice echoing off the walls.

  King picked up the pace and hurried to her door where his mother was now calling for help.

  “I don’t want them,” Carol King spat from inside her room. “Not until that man has been caught.”

  “Mrs. King, but what are you going to sleep with?” a woman’s voice said from inside Carol’s room.

  Stopping at the threshold, King glanced to his feet. His mother’s bed pillows lay in the hallway. King’s expression hardened when his eyes met Tristan’s.

  “Mr. King,” Tristan stepped forward, “I promise this was not like this a minute ago.”

  King gritted his teeth as he bent at the waist and scooped up one of the two pillows his mother had tossed into the hallway before he heard Tristan say, “Let me help.”

  King held up his hand and ripped the second pillow from Tristan’s grip before asking for some privacy.

  “Certainly.” Tristan looked to Alvarez and stepped back.

  King entered his mother’s room—alone—holding both pillows. He wagged his head to the other nurse—whose eyes were wide and forgiving—to also leave the room. Her feet scampered across the floor just as Carol King cried, “Don’t you bring those in here.”

  King ignored his mother’s pleas and headed for the armchair near the floor lamp.

  “I’m serious, Alex.” Her saggy cheeks scolded her son. “I don’t want those anywhere near me.”

  “Mom. Relax.” King stacked the pillows on top of the chair and turned to face his mother.

  “I’m not afraid to die,” Carol kept shaking her small head at her son, “but I’m not going to be smothered to death in my sleep, either.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” King said calmly.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked, raking her judgmental eyes over his front. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

  King lowered his large frame and sat on the edge of the bed. He patted the mattress, motioning for his mother to sit. She obeyed and Carol climbed on top.

  Looking into his mother’s brown eyes, he asked himself how in the world he was going to break the news to her about Avery. He could see fear flashing over her eyes—hear the terror of her cries in his ears, her bones’ subtle tremble. She would never admit any of it, of course, but it was all there.

  Inside, he was shattered, but King knew he couldn’t tell his mother now. Not with her already on edge and her mind convincing her that what happened to Peggy was also going to happen to her.

  “Mom, tell me what’s going on.”

  Carol hooked her hands behind her thigh and stretched her legs straight over her comforter. King watched as she lay on one side, tucking her arm beneath her head. He pressed his hand on her knee and felt his mother’s electric pulse shoot up his arm. He’d never seen his mother appear so fragile and it concerned him.

  “I can’t sleep,” she murmured.

  King glanced to the television, fearing somehow his mother had heard about Avery. He turned back to his exhausted looking mother and swore she’d aged overnight. “The nurse said you saw someone.”

  Carol lifted her head and raised her eyebrows. “I did.”

  “Who, Mom? Who did you see?”

  “It was him.”

  “Him who?” King wanted his mother to say the words.

  “Orville Boyd.”

  King didn’t react. His mother’s eyes convinced him it was true. “When, Mom? Last night?”

  She shook her head. “This morning. He was inside my room talking to me this morning.”

  “Here?” King jabbed his index finger to the floor.

  “Yes.” Carol didn’t blink. “He was here. Right inside this room. Just like I said.”

  Carol King had the best poker face of anyone King knew. Her self-assurance was enough to erase any doubt King may still have been having. Now King understood why Tristan had made the call. This was serious.

  “Mom. Are you sure? I was reminded of the security of this place and Boyd’s name was never registered in the visitor log. I checked.”

  “I know what I saw.” Carol pressed her lips together and eased herself back down to the bed.

  “Then why not call me?” King gripped the edge of the mattress and glanced to the phone on the nightstand. “You know I would have been here in a heartbeat.”

  Carol closed her eyes and said in a sleepy voice, “Every time I close my eyes, I see him.”

  King flicked his gaze to the door. Alvarez was standing guard. “Is he here now?”

  “Are my eyes closed?”

  King looked at his mother. Her eye
s were certainly closed. “Mom it’s just in your head.”

  “It feels real to me.” King could hear his mother drifting off to sleep. “It’s like I’m reliving the nights Marshall never came home.” She yawned and snuggled deeper into the bed. “I was always stuck wondering if I would wake up to find that I had become a widow overnight.”

  King breathed in a deep breath of air as he pulled a blanket over his mother and stayed with her until she was fast asleep. Then he quietly exited the room and closed the door behind him.

  Alvarez pushed off the wall he was leaning against and asked, “Well?”

  King was staring toward the cafeteria when he said, “It’s just in her head. She didn’t see anyone.”

  Alvarez didn’t want to push his partner into leaving, but he glanced to his watch, knowing they had important work waiting. “What do you want to do?”

  King started walking. “There isn’t anything we can do.”

  On their way out, King stopped at the front desk to talk with Tristan. He was busy packing his sports bag and also on his way out the door. “Let’s walk and talk, Detective,” Tristan said, “otherwise I’ll be late for my appointment.”

  Tristan skirted around the desk and made for the exit.

  “Apparently tomorrow’s marathon course has been changed and I’ve been asked to approve the medical logistics with the organizers.” Tristan held the door open with his hip and let the detectives pass. “Have you decided if you’re going to run yet?”

  King nodded and thought about Avery. “Yeah, I think I will.”

  “That’s great.” Tristan smiled. “Look, about your mother,” he stepped closer and lowered his voice, “I want to make this transition seamless for both you and her. I don’t like what happened last night and certainly don’t need you coming down here to solve our problems for us. If there is anything I can do to ensure I don’t have to call you every time something like this happens, please let me know.”