by Nolon King
With the election only seven months away, it would only get tougher. Murders, especially high profile or serial cases, tended to make or break a career. Even if the sheriff closed a case, people hated to feel vulnerable. When bodies dropped, people voted for the stronger opponent, even if it was a corrupt racist who was run out of office. All because they want to feel safe, even if they weren’t really any safer under him.
Mal shoved her burger wrapper and fries box into the bag, crushed them up, got out of her car, and crossed the lot to toss them in the overflowing garbage.
She glanced into the restaurant. Her heart stopped when she saw Jessi Price standing in line beside her mother.
It had been six months since Paul Dodd had kidnapped the little girl and killed her father. Six months since Mal, with the help of the Mystery Man, had saved her life. The girl was smiling, somehow going on with life, even after all of Dodd’s atrocities. He may have taken her innocence, but he couldn’t claim her life.
It had been four months since Mal had seen Jessi. She’d checked in a few times, and had taken statements from the girl and her family. Mal had also helped them navigate their interactions with the press. Additionally, she’d anonymously paid for a top therapist to help Jessi and her family cope, to give them the best possible chance of surviving their hell.
Mal watched Jessi smile as her mother handed her the tray. They looked for a table. She thought again how much the girl reminded her of Ashley, whose life Dodd had taken. Who Mal couldn’t find, much less help, despite being a detective. A girl who died at the hands of a monster.
Mal was surprised to find herself pushing through the front door.
She wanted, no, needed, to see Jessi. To ask how she was, to hear her laughter and feel her presence — it might be the only thing to soothe her sudden, aching pain.
It wasn’t seeing Ashley, but it was the next best thing, seeing the girl whose life Dodd tried to take, alive despite the monster’s attempts to snuff her out.
Jessi and her mother sat at a table in the back, next to the door leading to the restaurant’s colorful ball pit and playground. Mom looked like she’d just gotten off work. Jessi was in her school uniform of beige pants and a white shirt.
Mal had expected a big smile. Maybe the girl running up to hug her as she had in a few of their earlier meetings.
But they stared at Mal with a look of pained confusion.
“Hello, Officer Black,” her mother said. “Is there something wrong?”
“Oh, no,” Mal said, feeling like shit for interrupting their fun time, for wiping that smile off Jessi’s face. “I was just getting some food when I saw you two. Hi, Jessi.”
The girl looked like she was about to cry. She waved a weak “hi.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted,” Mal said, turning to leave. “Have a good day.”
She left before the mother could awkwardly apologize or utter another word. She pushed through the door, trying to reach her car as quickly as possible.
A horn blasted as she stepped into the path of a blue Toyota just leaving the drive-thru. A young woman with giant owl-sized glasses, yelled, “What the hell, lady?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Mal said, throwing her hands up, then running away.
She got in her car, closed the door, and sobbed.
Chapter 12 - Jordyn Parish
Jordyn wondered if she looked as ridiculous in her dress as she feared.
It was strapless, rose gold, above the knee, and three inches shorter than her father would have liked. She’d bought it while shopping with Brianna and Bethanee at Missguided last week. She’d spent a lot of money on it, too. The hardest part was acting like it wasn’t gutting her savings. The dress was way more than she’d ever spent on herself, but Jordyn didn’t dare mention that in front of the rich girls that had become her new friends in the month since Bobby had asked her out. For the first time, she wanted to fit in.
It was a weird feeling, especially after the last few years cultivating an attitude of not giving a crap what anyone thought.
But now, staring in the mirror, and seeing how well the dress flattered her, Jordyn had to admit that maybe she did like fitting in just a little.
She wasn’t trying to get in with the cool kids, at least not exactly. She really did like Bobby, and he happened to be part of this group. And now, so was she. In a way. But Jordyn hadn’t changed to fit in. Not really. Or all that much. And it wasn’t like buying an expensive dress made you anyone different. Sometimes, a girl just wanted to look nice. Was there any harm in that?
Jordyn eyed her hair and makeup. Her hair looked intentionally messy, and her makeup looked simple, despite the hours it took to get there.
She wished her mother could see her. This was her first dance that a boy had asked her to. A big deal that every girl should have a mom to share with.
Sharing it with Dad wasn’t the same. He had more or less been pretending it wasn’t even happening. He joked around, saying he knew that Bobby liked her. But as the big day approached, he seemed to be withdrawing. Again.
He was drinking, feeling down on himself.
Maybe he misses Mom, too.
Jordyn wondered what her mom would say if she were there now. No doubt she’d be telling Jordyn how gorgeous she was. Probably crying, saying things about how her little girl was growing up so fast.
She looked at the clock: 6:20 PM. Bobby was due in about ten minutes.
She checked her hair and makeup one final time, figuring her hair looked good, and it was too late to do anything about her makeup, even if it was a little too much.
She headed downstairs, wondering what her father would say, or if he’d be as blown away by her dress as her mom probably would have been.
But her father wasn’t in the living room.
She went into his study where he’d been spending most of his time, either working out, watching TV, or reading the news — stuff she figured retired dads did to mine meaning from life when they didn’t have a wife or hobby to swallow their days.
She knocked on the door. “Daddy?”
“Yeah?” he said, his voice slurred.
She shook her head, sighing as she heard his footsteps on the other side of the door.
He opened it.
Her dad was a mess, wearing sweats and a stained black shirt. He had dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. The stench of alcohol bled from his pores.
“Wow. You look bee-yuu-tee-ful.”
“Really, Dad? Tonight you get drunk? Bobby is gonna be here any minute!”
She turned away and started toward the door. “I’m waiting outside.”
“What? I embarrass you? Hey, honey, she’s embarrassed by me. How’s that for gratitude?”
Great. Dad was talking to her dead mother again. “Can we not do this now?”
“What?”
“This, all of this. Getting drunk, talking to mom like she’s here. When’s the last time you took your pills, Dad?”
“That’s none of your bidness,” he slurred as he stumbled towards her. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not fine. You’re really fucking far from fine!”
“Hey, watch your mouth!” He turned to the ghost that wasn’t there, and argued, “What do you mean my mouth? I don’t talk like that in front of her.”
“Please, stop!” Jordyn screamed. “Bobby will be here to pick me up, and I do not want him seeing you like … like this!”
“Well, excuuuuuse me. Sorry to be so embarrassing to my own flesh and blood. You know, you used to be sweet. But now look atchya, with your fancy friends and your …”
Jordyn had to leave before she started crying.
She heard the car pull up outside.
Her father’s eyebrows arched up. “Uh-oh, heeeee’s here.”
He started toward the door.
“No! You are not going out there like this.”
He smiled. “Like what?”
“W
hat the hell is wrong with you? Why are you so wasted, tonight of all nights?”
He looked confused.
Jordyn fought her welling tears.
Any moment, Bobby, and maybe his friends, would be approaching the door. The sheer thought of him, or any his friends like Brianna, seeing her father in this condition terrified the hell out of her.
Just like that, any respect gained in the last few weeks would vanish. She’d be the daughter of a drunk. Worse, maybe he’d start talking to ghosts and make her the daughter of a crazy drunk.
She could almost hear Brianna and her friends laughing behind her back.
Jordyn grabbed her father by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Daddy, I love you, but please, pleeeeease do not do this to me tonight.”
“Do what? I’m fine.”
She heard the car door close outside.
She could almost feel Bobby approaching. She had to do something quickly, or her entire night, if not life at this school, would be shot.
She turned to where her father had been talking to her mother. “Mom, please, talk some sense into him.”
Her father looked at Jordyn, eyebrows knitted: You can see her too?
Then he turned to the empty spot as if listening to someone.
Is this actually working?
Her father broke down in tears, turned to Jordyn, and said, “I’m sorry, baby girl. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay,” she said, hugging him. “I need to go now. Will you be okay?”
He turned to the ghost, then back to Jordyn. “Yes, I’ll be fine. You go, have a good time.”
She sighed, then opened the front door.
Bobby came up the sidewalk alone, dressed in a simple tux and holding a corsage. He looked so sweet, so handsome. Jordyn did her best to pretend she wasn’t on the verge of tears.
She said goodbye to her father, then stepped outside to greet her date. As she closed the door, she heard him say, “You look beautiful, baby.”
She met Bobby’s bright blue eyes, his nervous-looking smile.
“You look great.”
“So do you,” Jordyn said, blushing.
“Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”
“Allergies,” she lied, wiping at her eyes.
“You sure? We don’t have to go.”
She looked past Bobby to the limo. The sunroof was open, and Calum and Brianna stood, holding up glasses. Calum shouted. “Come on, lovebirds, let’s get a move on!”
Jordyn followed Bobby to the car. He held the door open. She climbed inside; saw the back seat crowded with Calum and Brianna, Adam and Bethanee, and Nate with a girl with brown curly hair and an adorable smile.
“This is Sammi,” he said. “She’s on the dance squad.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jordyn said, with the obligatory hug.
Bobby got in and closed the door.
As the car drove off, Calum passed Jordyn a glass of whatever he was drinking. “Here. Drink this.”
“What is it?” She looked down at the clear and sparkling drink.
Champagne?
Jordyn had never drunk anything stronger than a Shirley Temple, but after everything with her father, she needed something to calm her nerves.
She took a drink.
Chapter 13 - Mallory Black
Mal woke to her phone singing the theme song to COPS — the ringtone she’d given Mike’s number as a joke.
“Yeah?” she answered.
“Orestes is on the move. He gave a countdown of four hours.”
“Fuck!” Mal sat up and glanced at the nightstand clock: 6:05 AM.
“Bastard can’t wait for a decent hour to announce a killing spree? Anything else? Any news on Brendan Woods?”
“Nothing. Aanya got his internet history but didn’t see anything unusual. That doesn’t mean he’s not routing traffic through a proxy or using another device we don’t know about. Maybe another stolen phone.”
“He’s still in his house?”
“Hasn’t left.”
“Okay, I’m getting up.”
Mal pulled into the Sheriff’s Office parking lot, news vans out front.
Shit. Someone must’ve found out about the threat.
She drove past the main lot, pulled up to the security gate which closed off the rear portion, checked in, and headed toward the back, away from the news crews and their electronic eyes.
Looking for a spot, Mal spied several cars, far more than were usually there this early in the morning. Additionally, there were several FDLE and unmarked sedans practically screaming FBI.
Mal immediately wished she’d stopped for coffee. She’d need caffeine to get through this morning.
Mal took a chair next to Mike in the Situation Room, which had eleven tables forming a giant upside-down U, three across and four down each leg. At the top sat Sheriff Bell, Public Information Officer Felicia Day, FBI Special Agent in Charge Terry McDaniels, Florida Department of Law Enforcement Captain Don Bailey, and Chief Stephen Price from the Creek County Fire Department. Everyone else sat at the other tables, including Mike and key personnel from each of the agencies, all forming the Orestes Task Force.
Every table had several laptops, outlets for additional ones, and enough cables to power a small city.
Gloria and McDaniels stood in front of a wall monitor with a chart displaying all the info they’d gathered so far and delivered a status update on the current situation.
The killer planned to strike at ten in the morning. Patrols were beefed up at all the local parks with uniformed and plainclothes officers stationed with FBI agents. Meanwhile, the press had found the posting on the chan site and were asking a battery of questions. Same for the hundreds of residents calling in, demanding to know what was being done to keep them safe. Parents were keeping their kids home from school.
The task force’s suspect, Brendan Woods, hadn’t left his parents’ house, nor did they have enough evidence for a search warrant. Approaching him without enough to arrest him could leave them high and dry. Far better to catch him with evidence or in the act of planning a crime’s execution. As long as they kept their eyes on him and he didn’t escape surveillance, the threat was likely contained — assuming they had the right guy, and that he was working alone.
They had to plan for both assumptions being wrong and to prepare for an attack.
Gloria turned to McDaniels. “What about your cyber crimes division? They have anything on Orestes yet?”
“No. We’ve run into the same roadblocks that you have. Once you have a suspect in custody, we’ll have our best cyber forensics team on hand.”
A large screen displayed information behind Gloria and McDaniels.
“Wait. The killer just posted something new.” Aanya brought up the page on the monitor and broadcast the location.
Mal stared in disbelief.
Chapter 14 - Orestes666
Orestes666 stood on the street outside the Morningstar Diner holding the stolen phone.
He opened a livestream on the LiveLyfe page he’d swiped, though he’d yet to start the broadcast. He copied the link, logged into NonAMus, and began a thread on /KillEveryone.
He wrote: It’s show time, followed by a link to the livestream.
He closed out the NonAMus window, raised the phone, and began broadcasting, aiming his camera at the diner, careful not to keep its signage from the shots.
He spoke, his voice altered by an app he downloaded onto the phone.
“Okay, kiddies. Time to play. And this one is gonna be bloody! Which one of these fuckers should I shoot first?”
He walked closer, slowly panning across the windows, revealing faces of diners in booths. Old people, young people, and a handful of families. Among them, his true target, taking an order from an elderly couple.
She had no idea that her morning was already spiraling into hell. No idea that her worthless existence was already over.
He liked that feeling of knowing that someo
ne’s life was over before they did. That was true power. Not the kind that most people clung to, with position, wealth, or authority. The ability to spare life or deliver death was the ultimate power, and he held them.
Immediately, people called out their targets of choice. Some suggested killing the old fucks. Other suggested women and children first. And some people challenged him to kill ‘em all.
Orestes666 smiled as he read the comments.
“Kill ‘em all? Sounds like a plan.”
He lowered his ski mask, slid the GoPro headband over it, then entered the diner, an AR-15 tucked under his trench coat.
Chapter 15 - Mallory Black
“That’s the Morning Star Diner!” Mal practically yelled.
The command room turned to chaos with each person getting on the phone and ordering their people into positions near the diner. EMT, SWAT, and patrol officers all directed, in addition to the FDLE SWAT unit also on hand.
Wilson grabbed his coffee, barking at Mike and Mal. “Let’s get over there! Mal, pull up that livestream on your phone.”
Mal turned to Gloria, “We need to find out whose LiveLyfe account he’s using, and get to their house. Make sure we don’t have a repeat of Kincaid.”
Gloria nodded, getting on the phone.
Mal and Mike followed Wilson toward the parking lot. They reached his department-issue Chevy Tahoe, and he threw his keys at Mike.
“You drive!”
Mike and Mal traded glances.
Wilson raced to the passenger side door and climbed inside.
Mike hopped into the driver’s seat. Mal got into the back.
“Get a move on!” Wilson yelled, flicking on the siren and light bar.
Mike gunned the engine, gravel spitting as he tore out of the lot, past the security gate and toward SR 110.
