A Reason To Breathe (6 page)

“I’m saying it’s already different, she’s not like the others, she pisses me off.” Barry’s head snapped back when I said that, the confusion clear.
Join the club.
So I tried to explain.

“Women don’t piss me off, they annoy me first.” He still looked confused.

“Jesus, I’ve never been with a woman who pisses me off because she won’t listen.”

“How the fuck does that make Jennifer different than all the other women whose hearts you’ve broken?”

“How the fuck do I know, I’ve never been pissed at one! Jenn pisses me off enough to arrest her ass, just to keep her safe. Does that tell you something? ‘Cause if it does, enlighten the fuck out of me, I’d
really
like to know why a woman who pisses me off, turns me on.”

“Jesus, Jack, I’m not gonna interpret this shit for you. You like to fight with women, fine, just don’t fuckin’ string her along while you’re having fun.”

This was getting us nowhere; Barry wanted Jenn, and I wasn’t about to let him near her. Where the hell these possessive feelings for a woman I met yesterday were coming from, beat the hell out of me, but I learned a long time ago to trust your gut, and it’s never let me down. I opened the door to get out and then turned back to Barry, who was still pissed off. “I’m not backing off. You got a problem with that, fine. I can respect that. But in the future you keep your shit together and don’t bring your feelings for Jenn and me to the office.” I didn’t give him a chance to respond; I got out and headed to my truck. I had a killer to find, and I needed to focus on that.

Chapter Six

A Gift

       “Ok, guys, I spent last night going over profiles of serial killers. The FBI said
that serial killers usually aren’t loners, are gainfully employed, have families in many instances and almost never come across as creepy.”

Sitting in the back of McGill’s with Rosie, Ben and Gerry as my audience, I laid out what I’d researched about serial killers. To say I was creeped out is an understatement, but you can’t choose your subject matter in journalism, it picks you. The amount of information that can be obtained on the Internet about these monsters is staggering.

“I was under the impression that serial killers are almost always white males, but my research cleared up that point, and I found they span all racial groups. The motivation behind serial killings is not always or for the most part even sexual in nature. Financial gain, attention seeking, or just for the thrill of the kill, just to name a few, are more likely. They operate within a comfort zone, anchor points close to home. They very rarely travel the interstate; unless they are so comfortable with their expertise they do it to avoid detection. Their IQ ranges from borderline to extremely smart, most don’t consider themselves invincible but as they get comfortable with killing, becoming more and more brave. This usually makes their kills sloppy and helps lead to their detection. Some stop, replacing other activities for the thrill they receive from killing, i.e. auto erotica, masturbation and cross-dressing. But ultimately, they all have one thing in common they are psychopaths. Psychopaths are persons with antisocial personality disorder, which manifests in aggression, perversion and sometimes criminal and amoral behavior without empathy or remorse.” 

“Jesus, Jenny, are you sure you want to investigate this guy?”
   

“Oh, come on, Ben, this is fascinating, although creepy stuff.” I defended.

“I’m with Ben, sugar, I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep at night knowing about this stuff.” Looking at Rosie’s wide eyes, then back at Ben and Gerry, I sat down hard on my chair.

“Guys, it was your idea to help me, now you want to throw in the towel?

“I can’t think of anyone in our county that matches that description.” Gerry spit out.

“That’s what makes them so hard to catch. They blend in; they could be a loving father next door.”

“Well if that’s the case, we won’t be able to come up with any suspects. Not unless we put all of the men who live in the county on it.” Rosie countered.

“We can eliminate those over the age of fifty-five, and those under the age of twenty for starters, disabled as well.”

“Good to know we aren’t a suspect,” Ben laughed.

“Ben you’ve got arthritis in your hands, I doubt you’d have the hand strength to strangle a woman.”

“Why aren’t we putting women on the list?” Rosie asked almost offended that I left our sex off the table.

“Because women tend to kill men, and these murders take place at close range, and muscle is needed to detain these women in order to strangle them.”

“Have you seen Janice Rutherford? Woman has arms like a man. Bet she could arm wrestle and win against most, except Jack.” I don’t need to be thinking about how big Jack’s arms are right now, but don’t think I didn’t notice the dreamy look Rosie had when she mentioned him. Ignoring this, I moved forward with our discussion.

“All right Rosie, I’ll put Janice on the list, happy?”

“How about we
all
make a list of the men we know in the county that fit the age range and physical strength, then we can compare and come up with a master list?” Gerry suggested.

“I like that, what about women? We need a list of all women with brown hair who live in the county as well.” Rosie threw in.

I looked at the three of them; then Ben stood up, walked over to the board, and picked up a marker, writing my name.
Shit.
Looking at my name, then not wanting to look at my name, I grabbed my hair pulling it into a ponytail and tried to act like that didn’t freak me the hell out. The three of them stared at me for a moment, and feeling self-conscious, I snapped my fingers and pointed to their papers, “Guys, names, I need to leave by four.”

*
                            *                            *

Jack

       Phones were ringing off the hook when I entered the station at 4:30. I grabbed the phone punching line one, wondering where the hell Debbie our receptionist was.

“Sheriff Gunnison.”

“Awe good, just the man I wanted to talk to.”
 Sighing for patience at the sound of the Mayor of Gunnison’s voice, I steeled myself for what was next.

“Mayor Hall, what can I do for you?”

“Sheriff, we need to call a meeting to discuss the recent deaths in our county to ascertain that all is being done to catch this killer.” The sarcasm in his voice wasn’t lost on me. Mayor Hall’s son, Grady, worked as my Deputy, and it was known by all that he had high hopes for his son. He wants Grady to be Sheriff, the only problem with that is me; and the fact that Grady was too young. But that didn’t stop him from pushing his agenda every chance he got. He needed me gone to accomplish that, and a serial killer avoiding police capture would be a perfect excuse for him.

“I can assure you all is being done to apprehend this killer, Mayor.”

“I’m not sure that’s true Sheriff, I’m thinking your mind is elsewhere at a time you should be giving this killer your full attention.”

“And where do you think my attention is Mayor?”

“Well, if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, your attention was on Jennifer Stewart’s lips, instead of a killer, or was that not you I saw practically mauling the poor woman at lunch?”

My ire spiked; Mayor Hall had been five years ahead of me in school, class president and all around prick. His wife of twenty years left him for another man five years ago, and he was always searching for the next first lady of Gunnison. The fact he knew Jennifer by name, when she’d only been here four months, caught my attention.

“I wasn’t aware the Mayor or the council had jurisdiction over my lunch hour or my personal life, John?”

“No, that’s true, Jack, but if you’re too busy pursuing the new reporter to make time for this killer, I’m sure that we can find someone who will take the job more seriously.” I counted to ten to reign in my temper, but it didn’t work.
“John, let’s cut the crap. My department has handled this case by the book from the beginning. With a second murder, it’s clear to my staff and me, whether the FBI can classify this or not, that we have a serial or a copycat on our hands. No one in my department is taking this lightly, and we are all putting in overtime on this case. So unless you and the council have information in regards to this killer, I don’t have time to waste in a meeting when I should be spending it tracking down this asshole. As for the matter of my lunch hour and whom I spend it with don’t hold your breath waiting for that person to change anytime soon.”

“As always it’s a pleasure to talk to you Sheriff, I’ll be advising the council of our conversation, and letting them know you have more important pursuits at the moment.”

“You do that, John.” Slamming the phone down, I looked around for Debbie. Seeing Grady come from the interrogation room, I shouted at him.

“Grady, where the fuck is Debbie?” His eyebrows rose at my tone; looked at her desk, then back again.

“She had a doctor’s appointment at five, Jack, she can’t miss them with the baby due next month.”

“Christ, I forgot, ignore me Grady, your Dad just phoned and I made the mistake of answering the phone.”
 

Grady, more his mother’s than his father’s son, worked hard and didn’t want a leg up because of his father, who incidentally, couldn’t stand him any more than I did. The fact his dad had screwed everything with two legs before, during and after his mother walked out, might have had something to do with his feelings. How a man like John Hall had produced a man like Grady
proved
you could overcome your environment.

I started to move towards my office when the phones started ringing again, so I grabbed the phone and answered.

“Sheriff’s department, Sheriff Gunnison speaking.”

“There’s a body of a woman off the jogging trail near 135 and the Gunnison River.” Someone whispered over the phone. Feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand up, my gut told me I was talking to the killer.

“You put her there?”

“Perceptive, Sheriff.”

“Why don’t you stay with the body and I’ll come to you, you can give yourself up, and we’ll get you some help.”

“Sure, Sheriff, come on down, I’m feeling repentant right now. Come get me and help me stop.” The sarcasm was dripping from his words. I snapped my fingers at Grady and indicated I needed a pen and paper, he handed them to me, and I wrote
, Killer on the phone, body at 135 and Gunnison River crossing, find who is closest and get them there now. I’ll keep him on the line.

Handing the note back to Grady, he read it, nodded and then headed to the dispatch office.

“Tell me why you’re doing this?” I barked.

“It’s a gift.”

“For who? 

“An angel with brown eyes.”

“You need to turn yourself in before any more mothers, daughters, or wives are gone, destroying more families.” I lowered my voice hoping to humanize these women he hunted, putting a face to the bodies. I continued this tactic, trying to keep him on the line.

“Jamie Smith’s sister Julie collapsed at her funeral, they were so close she was inconsolable at the loss. Cindy Baker was one of seven children, the oldest of the girls, and the one they all turned to now their parents are dead. Her brothers and sister are destroyed by her death. You need to turn yourself in so we can help you stop.”

“Shut up, I know who they were, they were gifts, she’ll understand, they were gifts.” His voice still in a whisper, faltered, and an anguished cry rang out. Whoever this killer was, it bothered him, but enough to stop?

“Whoever she is, she won’t want blood on her hands, you have to stop.” The line went dead with no warning. Mumbling, “Fuck,” I ran to the dispatch office.

“Phil is three miles away, he should be there anytime.” Grady relayed as I entered. Grabbing the hand held, I patched into Phil.

“Phil.”

“Wood, here.”

“He just hung up he could be close, so stay sharp.”

“Roger that, Jack.”

While we waited for Phil to call back, I looked over and saw Barry walk in; his face blank as he held my eyes. I gave him a chin lift, and he did the same, then I turned back to the radio and waited.

“Base, Jesus, base, Wood here, a female victim at Gunnison crossing, Jack, its Shannon Davis.” My eyes closed for a moment, then I grabbed the radio.

“Do you see that sonofabitch? Wood, secure the area, check and see if that sonofabitch is still there.”
 

“Roger that Jack, weapon drawn and searching perimeter.”

“Goddammit,” I roared, throwing the handheld on the desk. I pushed my hands threw my hair and paced while waiting to hear back from Phil. Everyone was watching me, waiting for my lead, so I took a deep breath and moved past the knot in my gut.

“Grady, call the Coroner. Barry, head out to the scene and help secure. I’m gonna head over to the school and see if Kyle is still there or got a ride home with friends.”

Grady left the office to call Drew, Barry headed out, and I waited to get confirmation that the scene was clear, and my Deputy was safe.

“Wood to base, scene is secure, no sign of unsub.”

“Barry’s on his way and so is the Coroner, hold tight, I’ll be there once I’ve contacted Shannon’s family and know Kyle is safe.”

“Roger that, Jack.”
Holding onto what little thread of patience I had left, I went to my office and closed the door. Shannon Davis and I had dated three years ago; she was newly divorced and had a cute kid. She needed a man who was there regular hours, and I didn’t fit that. We tried for a while, but we fought constantly about how much time my job required. So we ended things amicably, and she moved on to someone else. But I was fond of her and her kid, and always made a point of saying hello if I saw them out. Christ. Reaching for my keys, I thought about little Kyle Davis, and wished like hell I didn’t have to shatter his world.