Chapter 7

 

The faded white clap board house looked exactly like it did six years ago.  The outhouse still stood outback, though leaning precariously to one side.  Several dirty children played in the dirt which Jake supposed was once a lawn. 

 

The creaky screen door burst open and a large bear of a man stepped out on the porch.  He wore stained jeans, cowboy boots, and no shirt.  His dirty brown hair was slicked back.  He braced arms on the porch beams above his head giving Jake a full view of black pit hair.

 

“Somethin I can do for you Sheriff?”  The man said.

 

The children gave the man a wide berth while the oldest gathered them up at the end of the house to watch.  Jake walked toward the porch, the crawl space under it putting the man’s belly at eye level.  “I was just out this way.  Thought I’d stop by.”

 

The man sneered.  “Yeah I bet you did Sheriff.”  He spit.  “You gonna have to wait your turn.”

 

“Is Ms. Davey’s home?”  Jake asked.

 

“Nope,” the man sucked his teeth.  “Haven’t seen her all day.”

 

Jake took a few steps back and leaned against the hood of the cruiser crossing his arms.  “I’ve got time.”

 

The man scowled and dropped his arms.

 

“What’s your name?”  Jake asked.  “Don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

 

“People call me Idol,” he said.

 

“You got any identification Idol?”  Jake questioned noting the prison ink on the man’s shoulder’s and forearms.

 

“Nope,” Idol smirked.

 

“Well now that’s a problem Idol.”  Jake rubbed a finger on his chin.  “See I know this house is used by Ms. Davey and her children.  I also know one of her children was recently injured.  I have reason to believe it was deliberate and the other children may be in danger.  Now here you stand, no identification, children obviously afraid, and it’s making me wonder.”

 

“You got no right comin here Sheriff,” Idol said putting the extra deep heel of his boot on the broken porch spindle.  “I got rights.”

 

Jake’s eyes went from the heel of the boot to Idol’s face.  He straightened.  “Yes indeed we do have a problem.”

 

“Get off this property!”  Idol yelled.  The children flinched. “This is private property and you have no rights on it.”

 

The smallest girl started crying and pointed at Idol.  “He hurt my mama!  He hurt my mama!”

 

Jake ran a handful of steps and jumped onto the porch.  Idol put his oily head down and charged like a bull.  At the last moment Jake moved aside, when Idol passed, Jake shoved his hand down on the back of the man’s neck.

 

Idol dropped to the rough wood planks.  Jake jumped on his back and hand cuffed him amid a deluge of curses.

 

Jake rolled Idol off the porch.  He hit the ground hard, the wind and fight forced from his body.  Jake opened the back door to the cruiser, Cesar in a barking frenzy on the front seat.  Jake threw the man in the back and shut the door.

 

He walked back to the porch where the children huddled.  “Where’s your mama?”

 

“I’m here,” Angela said from the doorway.  Her small four foot five frame was emaciated.  Dark purple and green bruises marred her elf like features.  “Said he’d hurt the kids bad if I came out.”

 

“Has this man assaulted you?”  Jake asked.  Angela nodded.  “But unless you can make him stay away from me I can’t press charges Sheriff.”

 

“Did he break Elie’s leg Angela?”  Jake asked.

 

She sat down hard on the floor of the wooden planked porch.  “Yes,” she cried.  “He tied him up and was letting him thirst to death.  The children were sneaking Elie water and when he found out.”  She shivered.  “Rina came by during it all and something about her visit scared him.  We went to get Elie but Idol stomped his leg and broke it before letting him up.  He made Elie crawl home.”

 

Jake wanted to shake the woman.  He turned and jumped the three feet to the ground, walked to the cruiser and let the still barking Cesar out, and calmed him with a command.  Cesar lopped off to visit the children who giggled at his licks and laughed while running their dirty hands through his fur.

 

Jake reached in to take the radio.

 

“You got nothing on me pig!”  Idol screamed from the back.  Jake slammed the plastic partition closed muting Idol’s threats.

 

“Alpha 1,” Jake said into the handset.

 

“Go ahead,” Deputy Adams answered.

 

“Call Rina, tell her to bring the vet van, and meet me out at the Davey’s house.  Give her about fifteen minutes, then call the Drake County Children’s Services Department and have them respond to this address.  I am taking a subject into custody and will be 10-8 to the Drake County Courthouse once CPS arrives.”  Jake said.

 

“10-4 Sheriff,” Deputy Adams said.

 

“They’ll take my kids!”  Angela bellowed from the porch.

 

“Yes they will Angela,” Jake said.  “But I’ve got Rina coming out here right now.  She’ll offer to take the children until a court date can be set, and more permanent arrangements made.  Now you know Rina, you know she’s good people.  You can give permission for her to take the kids.  She’ll probably take you too.  Or, you can let the CPS worker decide where they’ll go.  But Angela, they are not staying here.”

 

She wiped her eyes and nodded.  “I know, I know.  I shoulda kicked him out.  But I couldn’t.  I was ‘ascared.  I want Rina to take them.  I don’t want them split up.”

 

Jake sighed and turned from the pitiful woman.  He went back to the cruiser to try and coax identification from Idol.

 

Chapter 8

 

It was starting to get dark before Jake turned the cruiser onto highway 89 and headed toward the Ward’s Bed and Breakfast.

 

All in all he was fairly satisfied with the events of the last several hours.  Idol’s fingerprints matched him to several felony assaults, and he was currently an escapee from a twenty year sentence at the Waccan Hut Prison in Mississippi.  They were sending someone for him.  He wouldn’t bother the Davey’s again.

 

The Davey children, and for the moment, Cesar, were all staying with Rina and Trayleen in town.  After giving a statement to the police, Angela Davey disappeared.  He called Rina from the courthouse and was given the impression Angela was not coming back.  He’d have to check more into that later.

 

He was just sitting back and relaxing when he noticed a black semi tractor trailer pulled over on the side of the road, flashers on.  He sighed, the Wards would have to wait a little longer.

 

He pulled up behind the rig with Florida plates.  Odd for a semi tractor trailer to be on highway 89, not unheard of, but most truckers preferred highway 93’s new eight lanes and 70 miles per hour speed limit.  He reached for the radio to call in the plates when a dark haired man with a beard and limp approached the cruiser on the driver’s side.  The man looked to be in his late thirties, early forties, with dark brown hair and beard.

 

Jake got out of the cruiser.  “Broke down?”  He asked the man.

 

The man grimaced, “Yes.”

 

“Have you radioed a tow truck?”  Jake asked.

 

The man laughed and shook his head.  “It’s the darndest thing Sheriff.  I have this new kitten in the cab to keep me company.  I left my handset down and he chewed through the wire.  I can hear radio traffic but not transmit.  I tried splicing the wires together but it didn’t work.  My cell is not getting a signal either.  You’re the first vehicle we’ve seen in an hour.”

 

“I can help you out,” Jake said.  “What exactly is the problem?”

 

“Fuel filter,” he said.  “I believe.  If so I can change it ok, I just need to get one.  Think I got some bad fuel in New Mexico at my last stop.”

 

“I’ll call John, the town mechanic, see if he has one in stock and if he can bring it out,”  Jake said.  “Meanwhile, you and your cat are welcome to wait in the cruiser.  It’s much cooler.”

 

“Thank you Sheriff,” the man said.  “I’ll take you up on that.  Just let me go collect Socrates.”

 

Jake called Adams on the radio and was waiting for her to check with John when the man climbed into the seat beside him holding a very small black and grey striped kitten.

 

“I appreciate this,” the man said and stuck out his hand.  “Name’s Mason, Mason Livingston.  And this” he held up the kitten.  “This is Socrates.”

 

“No problem,” Jake took the man’s hand.  “I’m Jake Steel.”

 

“Alpha one, Alpha two.”  The radio said.

 

“Go ahead,” Jake said into the hand set.

 

“John has the part.  He’s on the way.  Be about ten minutes.”  Tracy said.

 

“10-4, thanks.”  Jake said.

 

“Good,” Mason said and relaxed back into the seat.  “I need to be in Las Angeles in two days to pick up my return load.”

 

“Been trucking long?” Jake asked.

 

“Thirty years,” Mason said and let Socrates down on the floor to investigate.

 

Jake raised a brow.  “Your cat probably smells our K9.”  They sat in silence for a few moments watching the kitten, and the sun sink into the horizon, the air conditioner’s whir the only sound.

 

“Coming from Florida?”  Jake asked.

 

Mason nodded.  “Yup I sure am.  That’s home.  I took a wrong turn somewhere back on 93.”  He pulled Socrates claws from his calf.  “I have this run to Los Angeles and back and then I am done.  Retiring.”

 

“You must have done very well to retire so young,” Jake said.

 

“Not so young,” Mason sighed.  “I’m forty two and already have a bad hip though from an accident, not old age.  But I guess that ain’t exactly old either.  Thing is I have to retire.  I have a tumor in my head.  Doctor says it’s full of cancer, they can’t operate, and once my eye sight starts getting fuzzy the end is near.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that Mason,” Jake said.  “How’s your family taking it?”

 

“I don’t have a family Sheriff,” Mason said.  “My parents have both passed.”

 

Jake felt for the man, no family, inoperable cancer, kind of put things in perspective.

 

“No kids huh?”  Jake asked.  “Me either.”

 

Mason shook his head sadly.  “This world is hard on kids today Sheriff.”

 

Jake thought about Angela’s children, about little Elie.  “Yes, yes it is.”

 

Mason turned and looked at Jake, eye to eye.  “I imagine in your line of work you’ve seen some pretty horrible things happen to children, to families.”

 

Jake nodded.  “Yes sir, that is true enough.  Today was one of those times.”

 

Mason looked back out the windshield his gaze unfocused.  “Makes ya wonder don’t it?  How anyone can intentionally victimize a child?”

 

“It makes me furious,” Jake admitted.

 

“Me too,” Mason said quietly.  “I was married once, to my high school sweetheart.  We had a son together, Ben.  But they were both killed about ten years ago.  Murdered.”

 

“They catch the guy?”  Jake asked.

 

“Oh yeah,” Mason said and smiled.  “They caught him all right.  He got off though, some sort of technicality.  I thought stuff like that only happened on tv.  But, I watched him walk out of the courthouse a free man.  Course a few months later he killed again.  He wasn’t caught until seven children were dead.  They called him the Peter Pan Killer.”

 

“Wow, I remember that case.” Jake said.  “The legal system has failed you miserably.”

 

Mason shrugged.  “Me and countless other families.”  He took a deep breath, “I never thought I could really hate a man until that happened.  I took to the road full time to get away from it.”  He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  “But you can’t get away from your thoughts when locked in a lonely big rig.  They own you, and after awhile you can think some really crazy things.”

 

“Like revenge?”  Jake asked.

 

“Yeah,” Mason said.  “Detailed revenge.”

 

“You never remarried?”  Jake asked.  Socrates, tired of exploring, jumped up in Mason’s lap.  He stroked the kitten’s head until it purred.

 

“Nah,” Mason said.  “I wasn’t fit company for several years after that.  Then I started getting headaches about three years ago.  That’s when they found the tumor.”  He shrugged.

 

“How long are they giving you?”  Jake asked aware it was a personal question but, there was something compelling about this man and his tortured past.

 

“Couple months,” he said.  “But I’ve lied about some of my symptoms so I wouldn’t have to quit working.  I wanted, no needed, to do this one last run.  So in reality, probably three, four weeks.”

 

John’s tow truck pulled up behind the cruiser.  “The mechanic is here,” Jake said.

 

John approached the cruiser, with a fuel filter clutched in his dirty fingers.  Brown tobacco juice stained the front of his cover alls.

 

Jake and Mason exited the cruiser.

 

“You need a new fuel filter Mister?”  John asked.

 

Mason nodded.  “Think so.”

 

“Let me have a look,” John said and went toward the front of the truck.

 

Mason turned toward the Jake.  “Thank you Sheriff.  I appreciate your help.”

 

“You’re welcome.”  Jake shook his hand.  “If John can’t fix you up, he’ll give you a ride back to town.  You’ll have to call a wrecker from there, the nearest one for a rig this size is Kingman.”

 

“Ok,” Mason said.  “Nice meetin you.”

 

Jake wished he could say more, but what do you say to a dying man?  “Good Luck Mason.”

 

Mason nodded, turned, and limped toward the front of the truck with Socrates in his arms.

 

Chapter 9

 

His luck was turning.

 

Jake pulled up to the Ward’s Bed and Breakfast a little after seven.  He parked the cruiser beside a Blue Saturn, a rental from Phoenix.  Relief surged in his chest.  He wasn’t too late.  Moments before, Deputy Adams notified him John took care of the trucker and he was on the road again.  Jake was glad to hear it.

 

The huge antebellum home, or the Forrest Gump House, as the locals liked to refer to it, was architecturally out of place in Arizona.  Not many people built two story houses in the desert. It was too expensive to cool the upstairs.

 

Mr. Ward made his fortune in Michigan, he and his wife retired to Arizona where her severe seasonal allergies received relief.  They replicated a home they visited in Louisiana on their second honeymoon.

 

During the building process, locals from as far away as Phoenix came to watch construction.  Several of the engineering and architectural schools brought bus loads of students out to observe.  It was the most traffic Jude saw in over a decade.

 

Mr. Ward decided if people were so interested in the construction, they might be willing to pay to stay once it was finished.  He was right.  People from all over the west came to the B & B for a little taste of the south.

 

The Wards went to great expense to make the experience as authentic as possible.  They hired culturally proud chefs and housekeepers from the south.   They threw a formal Christmas gala every year complete with hoop dresses for the ladies, and tuxedos for the men.  Influential people from all over the state attended, as well as a few Jude residents.  Every October, there was a massive barbecue and all of Jude was invited.  It was a day of eating, playing games, and swimming in the Olympic size pool.

 

Jake made his way up the stairs, past the mammoth white columns supporting the second floor wrap around porch, to the large double oak doors.  Before he rang the bell the door swung wide.

 

Mrs. Ward, a short no nonsense woman, smiled and embraced him.  “Jake!  So glad to see you.  How is Sally? Come in, come in.”

 

“She’s fine,” he said and handed her copies of the police report.  “I brought these.”

 

Mrs. Ward looked at them and shook her head.  “It broke my heart Jake when I found my mother’s broach was missing.  I just can’t believe anyone we’ve opened our home too would steal from us.”

 

“I’m going to be looking into that Mrs. Ward,” Jake said.  “There is a chance it wasn’t a boarder.  A man with a rap sheet as long as my arm was staying just down the road.  He was convicted several times for breaking and entering.  I’ll be checking pawn shops in Drake and Prescott tomorrow.”

 

She smiled and patted his arm.  “Thank you.”

 

“I was hoping to talk with your guests if they’re still up,” Jake said.

 

Mrs. Ward’s eyes brightened.  “Oh yes they’re up.  They’re packing for an early flight out of Phoenix.  Come.”  Her heels clicked on the polished wooden floors.  Jake followed her to the first room on the left off the foyer.  She opened two pocket doors and bid him inside.

 

A fireplace dominated the wall opposite the doors.  Two large stuffed chairs and a love seat formed a “u” around it.  There was an antique desk along one wall with a large gilt framed mirror, and French doors leading out to the porch.  The doors were flung wide.

 

“Have a seat Sheriff,” Mrs. Ward said.  “Can I get you anything?”

 

Jake sat on the love seat, “No thanks.”

 

“I’ll tell them you’re here,” she said heels clicking from the room.

 

Within a few moments Jake heard voices, stood and turned.

 

Sheriff Carr was right.  The two agents were women but nothing like the button down three piece suit types he expected.

 

One agent with long brown hair and curves in all the right places smiled at him.  She was wearing a white square necked sun dress with a red floral pattern, no makeup, and barefoot.

 

The second agent, a black woman, was more conservative but still feminine.  She wore a yellow cotton pant suit and red nail polish.  She was also barefoot.

 

“Sheriff,” the brunette said softly.  “You wanted to see us?”

 

“I, I,” Jake took a deep breath and blew it out.  “You are not what I expected.”

 

“We get that a lot,” the black woman said.  “What’s this about?”

 

Jake grabbed hold of his addled thoughts and stepped forward.  “I am the Drake Country Sheriff, Jake Steel.  I was hoping you could answer some questions for me.”

 

The brunette spoke.  “I am Agent Wahine.  This is Agent Serenity.  We’re with a special task force out of Virginia.  What information are you seeking?”

 

“Can we sit?”  Jake asked.

 

“Sure,” Wahine said.  “I don’t know how much we can help you though.”

 

“At this point,” Jake said.  “I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me.  I’ve played catch up all day with this case only to find at the end of it, it’s not mine anyway.”

 

Serenity tilted her head.  “You haven’t spoken with Sheriff Myrr?  He was told to contact you about it.”

 

Jake grimaced.  “Yes he did contact me.”  He ran a hand through his dark hair.  “Sheriff Myrr and I don’t get along.  We don’t have a very professional relationship.”

 

Agent Wahine clicked her tongue.  “I smell a story here.  You want information from us.”  She looked at Serenity.  “We want to know why the mere mention of your name gets that rude pig of a scarecrow all huffing and snorting.”

 

Jake gaped.  No, nothing like what he expected.

 

Agent Serenity laughed.  “We’ve talked about it at length today.  Almost stopped into your little town to see you, but we didn’t have time.  When we discovered the leg was found in your county, we told Sheriff Myrr he must contact you or we would.  Proper protocol and all that.”

 

“All he told me was the feds took over, case closed,” Jake grunted.  “We don’t get along because he is in love with my wife.”

 

Agents Wahine and Serenity exchanged glances.  Serenity spoke first.  “Do tell.”

 

Jake’s common sense was warring with desire.  Common sense screamed they weren’t going to tell him anything, they were just playing games.  Desire argued there was nothing to lose.

 

“My wife is an attorney.  She was working for the D.A. in Carr County when I met her.  She dated Sheriff Myrr a few times, ok, for like six months.  Then she moved on.  About three months later I met and eventually married her.  Sheriff Myrr seems to think my presence kept them from a romantic reconciliation.”

 

“Did it?” Wahine asked.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”  Jake asked.

 

“It means,” Serenity spoke this time.  “Was she leading him on?”

 

“Does it matter?”  Jake asked face flushing.  “She chose me.”

 

Wahine lifted a delicate shoulder.  “Obviously it mattered to Sheriff Scarecrow.”

 

Jake threw up his hands.  “It has nothing to do with this case!”

 

“Hush Sheriff,” Serenity said.  “Please excuse our curiosity.  We’ve been on the road with nothing but this case for the better part of three years.  Usually law enforcement is accommodating and we share information willingly, to a point.  Sheriff Myrr however is bull headed and doesn’t share anything that isn’t forced from him.  We reciprocated,  though we admit to an unexplainable curiosity about him.”

 

“The man has likely cost us this case,” Wahine said and put her bare feet up on the coffee table.  The bottoms were black.  “We were close, so close to this guy.  And we get here and hit a stone wall in the form of a scarecrow.”

 

“Close to what guy?”  Jake asked.

 

Serenity cocked a brow.  “You’re gonna love this.”

 

“A serial killer, killer.”  Wahine said.

 

“Come again,” Jake said.

 

“Three years ago body parts started turning up, strung all the way from Florida to California.”  Serenity said.  “Once the first two bodies were more or less reassembled and identified, we saw a pattern.  This serial killer, studies, stalks, and then murders child serial killers.  Not convicted child killers mind you.  He is killing the ones we’re looking for, the ones we haven’t caught yet.  And so far he’s been right every single time.  Once we id them and go to their homes, we find things that frankly, keep me up at night.”

 

Wahine flipped her long hair over a shoulder.  “And he doesn’t just kill them.  He murders them using their own technique.  Then dismembers the bodies and spreads them out over the country.”

 

“If this guy worked for the FBI he’d be hailed as a brilliant profiler,” Serenity said.  “He is finding men who have killed, ARE killing, and we are always two steps behind.”

 

Jake was flabbergasted.

 

“Do you know who it is?”  Jake asked.

 

Wahine shrugged.  “He’s profiled as a white male, probably a traveling salesman or trucker.  Chances are he was molested as a child, or a loved one, specifically a child, was taken by murder.  He’s angry, but it’s a cold calculated fury.  He’s studied and followed his victims for years.  We know because we do the same type things.  To know to the day and time how to gain access to a predator, that takes patience.  We don’t understand why he went from studying them to killing them though.”

 

Serenity interjected.  “A few weeks ago, an inmate from the Florida State Penal System escaped.  No one’s sure exactly how he did it, but we know he was helped from the outside.  His leg was the one found in your county last night.”

 

“Let me guess,” Jake said.  “A serial killer.”

 

“Not just ANY serial killer.  This man took great pleasure in torturing his childhood victims.  Often skinning them,” she stopped.  “No need to get into the grisly details you probably read about it.  The Peter Pan Killer?”

 

Jake’s heart stopped for one long second.  “The, the Peter Pan Killer?”

 

Serenity nodded.  “Yeah.  This time our guy messed up.  All the other bodies were clean.  This one was sloppy, more rage involved.  We found cat hair in some of the remains.  Your leg gave us that.”

 

“So now we’re looking for a white male trucker or salesman, who probably travels with a cat, between 35 and 45 years old, who most likely lost a child to murder.  We’re getting close.  That leg was dropped yesterday.”  Wahine smiled.  “See how easily we share information when someone just asks nice?”

 

Jake’s mouth went dry.  His heart was slamming against his ribs trying to escape. 

 

“Seen anyone that fits that description round here Sheriff?”  Serenity asked.

 

Jake thought about what this would do for his career.

 

Then he thought about Mason and his murdered family.  He thought about the Davey kids and little six year olds crawling home through the dirt with a broken leg.  He thought about all the years of watching children suffer at the hands of monsters.  All the times he swallowed injustice and followed the rules.

 

His hands stopped shaking.  “As a matter of fact,"  he said.  "I can’t say that I have.”

 

Wahine’s eyes met his and held them.  “You’ll keep an eye out won’t you Sheriff?”

 

“Sure,” Jake said.  “Anything for the feds."

 

THE END.

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