A Shadow of Death in The Woods (33 page)

“Jack, it would not change my feelings about you a bit. I know you better than you think I do. I believe you did what you had to do and the world is a better place without that pedophile. I am glad you twisted that guy’s head around backwards. I hope it hurt him like Hell.”

“I am not saying I am the one who did it but thank you for your thoughts.”

Monday, Bob came to see me in my office. He never came to my office unless he wanted something but he seemed reluctant to tell me what he wanted. He said that we needed to meet at The Cabin. I noticed he didn’t say in The Cabin. It turned out that is exactly what he meant. Bob, Mike, Paul and I met on a bench down near the lake. We didn’t think that The Cabin was bugged and Mike swept it frequently for bugs but we never took unnecessary risks. It was next to impossible to bug us outside and there was no way anyone could get close enough to read our lips.

Mike had been working in Ohio, gathering information. Before we went to Texas it was clear to us that the drug dealer in Ohio and his nephew were guilty of kidnapping Will. We were also fairly sure that the investigating detective was involved somehow. That was the only way to explain some of the things that happened while we were searching for Will. Mike had conclusive evidence that this was the case. Peterson, it turned out, had been working with Big Jim in Jim's drug business, and Peterson had interfered in the search for Will. It was time to settle the score and Paul had a plan.

Like all good plans it was a simple plan. Well, maybe not simple but it was straight forward. Two of us would go to the drug dealer’s door in Ohio state trooper uniforms, using a car that looked like an unmarked police car (a Crown Vic with hub caps in place of wheel covers, a spotlight and a short wire antenna or two stuck on the trunk). They would approach one in front of the other at the door. When the guy answered the door and everything looked fine, the guy in front would step aside so the second guy could shoot the dealer with a tazer. They would restrain the guy. If this went okay, the other two of us would approach and watch him while the two in uniform went to the nephew’s house. They would get the nephew and bring him to the dealer’s house.

With them secure, the two in uniform would go to the detective’s house with a story that a lead had developed in the kidnapping and they wanted the detective to come with them to talk with a potential witness. Once in the car, they would tazer him, put him in restraints and bring him to the farmhouse.

We would take the detective’s gun and shoot him in the mouth with it while he was sitting in a chair. We would then shoot the dealer with the detective’s gun, holding it in the detective’s hand so he would have gunpowder residue on his hand. And incidentally, we would be extra careful to make sure we used the detective’s dominate hand, which happened to be his left. By this time the nephew probably will have filled his pants but that would be okay. We would shoot him, using the detective’s hand in the same way. It would look like two shootings and a suicide.

At least it would look enough like two homicides and a suicide that the authorities could report it that way. It would avoid a messy investigation, which would only embarrass the police department. An investigation would generate a call for some resignations. Better to let sleeping dogs lie.

We left from work early on our motorcycles. It was kind of cold for a ride but we told people it would be our last chance to ride this year. We rode over to The Cabin and put the motorcycles in the garage under tarps and drove a car to Ohio. We met Mike’s man with the unmarked police car and two uniforms. Mike and Bob were going to be the two cops in uniform. Because they were going to the nephew's house and to the cop’s house and might be seen, both guys put on elaborate make up for a disguise.

The plan went perfectly. We had not discussed who would do the shooting. We were in the farmhouse kitchen. The real cop was sweating torrents. He knew he might not survive this. By this time we were all in Tyvek suits so as to not leave any DNA. Bob looked at me with a question in his eyes and I nodded yes. I took the cop’s nine millimeter handgun and put it under his chin. He started to beg but I pushed the gun up hard enough to shut him up but not hard enough to leave a mark. I squeezed the trigger. His head went back, his body relaxed as he died. I surprisingly got very little of his blood on me.

The next part was tricky. I couldn’t walk in any of the blood behind the dead cop. I had to stand to his left side. I put the nine millimeter handgun in his left hand and shot the dealer. I then shot the nephew. We checked to make sure that the three of them were dead and they were.

Our mission was completed. We left the farmhouse and got out of our Tyvek suits. Bob and Mike cleaned off their makeup. Bob cleaned my face off with a wipe with a chemical in it to clean thoroughly. We put all of the wipes, Tyvek suits and tazer in a plastic bag, which Mike took to destroy.

We went back to The Cabin, arriving early in the morning. We cleaned up and headed in to work like it was a normal day. Another night with no sleep.

A great sadness swept over me. It was not a sadness for those who I killed. It was a sadness for myself. I was now a serious serial killer and worst of all I felt no remorse. I was sad for my soul. I felt a pain in my chest when I thought about what my mother would think if she knew I was now a killer of men. How could I kill other human beings and have no feelings over it? If anything, I was glad that I killed the men. They had directly or indirectly killed Will, a little defenseless boy. In addition to being sad, I was angry. How could these bastards kidnap a defenseless little boy, kill him and make me into a serial killer? We humans are not as far from the jungle as we pretend.

The world was a better place with them dead but I was the poorer for it. It had turned me from a sensitive guy who cared about people into a killer of people. I was paying a heavy price for this. I was not concerned about treatment in an afterlife; I was concerned about the rest of my life on this earth. What kind of human being was I now?

I felt bad when I talked with Lydia after the El Paso killing but now that had been multiplied by three. Did I feel three times as bad? The answer was no. Worse, the last killings were much easier. I had a bad feeling about being a killer of human beings and I was alarmed by the fact it was becoming easier to kill. It also made me a liar because I could never tell the truth about what I had done. This was not how I wanted my life to be. My life had collided with the forces of evil and there had been a lot of damage.

Chapter 57

The Funeral

It took weeks for the DNA results to identify the bodies. One was identified as Will’s. Bill Simpson phoned me with the news. He and the family were devastated. No one should lose a child like this. I had already grieved but I expressed my sorrow to Bill.

The body was to be released in another week and then they would hold a funeral. I asked Bill if it would be okay for me to attend. He said, “Of course, why would you ask something like that?”

I replied, “There is a contract barring me from being within one hundred yards of the children.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. I don’t think the one hundred yards restriction significance really ever sank into the family. To them it was just a number they threw around like a slogan. Bill should have known better and perhaps did since he was a lawyer.

Finally, he said that he would talk with the family and get it okayed but he assured me that there would be no problem. I mentioned that if I could come to the funeral, I might bring some friends. He said that would be fine and he would talk with Katherine about it and get back with me. He phoned me the next day and said that my friends and I were welcome.

A week later Bill let me know the date and time of the funeral. It would be held in the church that our family attended. I told him that maybe six people would be attending with me and he assured me again that they would be welcome.

Then he said, “You know, Jack, I am glad that you are coming to the funeral. It is important to me that you be there.”

I asked, “How does Katherine feel about us coming?”

“She is in shock and isn’t doing well. She knows that you and your friends are coming and she raised no objections.”

“Bill, I don’t want to make a spectacle at the funeral. We will sit in the back of the church and be unobtrusive as possible. My friends will understand.”

“No, no. You don’t have to feel that way. I will have a row of seats reserved for you. I appreciate you coming.”

“To be honest I am coming for Will and not the family. I loved that boy like he was my own. He needs to be put to rest.”

“Yes. I understand how you must feel. I’ll be glad to see you there. I need you there.”

We disconnected and I contacted Bob and told him the details. He said that he would fly the company plane to Ohio and all of us could ride so we wouldn’t have to drive. I politely thanked him for his generosity but said that I preferred to drive. If it was all right with him, I would take my company car. He responded that the car was for me to do with what I wanted. I wanted to have some quiet time on the road to think and reminisce.

Luckily, I was required to wear a suit to work occasionally so I had a suit to wear that would fit. I had put on some bulk since I came to West Virginia and my old clothes would no longer fit right in the shoulders. Most men don't bother wearing a suit to funerals these days but I felt true respect required a suit, at least a jacket and tie.

I phoned Woody to find out if I could stay there one night. He said that I could stay at his house as long as I wished. He had already heard about the funeral and asked if it would be okay if he attended. He said that he knew that he wasn’t in the same social class as the Woodwards and Simpsons but he wanted to show me respect. I told him that Bill Simpson said that I could bring friends and Woody and Lorraine would be welcome, at least by me. He said, “You know, Jack, this is a parent’s worst nightmare. Nobody, and I mean nobody, wants to bury a child. It just rips my heart out. I hope the bastards that did this burn in Hell forever.”

I got to the church early and parked down the street. I watched the people go in the church. It was a beautiful fall day with a clear blue sky. The trees were bare, having dropped their dead leaves. I was struck by the thought of all the dying around me. The leaves were dead. In their death throes, they had revealed for the first time their true colors after dropping their chlorophyll disguise. It was their last hurrah before turning into organic material and feeding new plants. It was nature’s cycle.

I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t parked in the church parking lot. I think it was my deep, subconscious feeling that I didn’t belong here. At least I didn’t belong with the people who were attending the funeral. Only my friends from West Virginia and a few like Woody and Lorraine were my true friends. My life had changed in untold ways in the past year.

I saw my West Virginia friends park and start making their way to the church entrance. I got out of my Lexus and began walking to meet them on the church steps. Then I realized that Lydia was with them. This took me by surprise. I had not a clue she might come.

Everyone was somber and I nodded hello. Lydia fell in beside me and put her arm around my arm and held on tight. We went in the main front doors. My life had changed enormously but the church was the same. That seemed wrong somehow but then I thought, why would it have changed in a year?

Inside, there was a line going up the right-hand side of the church to the reception line. I wasn’t looking forward to talking to the people in the reception line. I had nothing to say to these people who had thrown me out but I saw no polite way around it. Katherine’s sister and her husband were the first two in the receiving line. Then followed Mama Woodward, Katherine’s grandmother. Next, was Katherine’s mother, followed by Katherine’s father, Bill and then Katherine. Last in line was the child-sized casket for Will.

I thought it wasn’t right that they manufactured coffins the size of children. It just seemed so wrong somehow. Why would a benevolent God allow such a thing? Maybe the Old Testament was right and God was a tough master, short on compassion.

The line moved faster than I liked and we were soon at the head. I offered my condolences to Katherine’s sister and her husband and said nothing further. It was too awkward to try to introduce all my West Virginia friends so I didn’t try.

Mama Woodward sat in a chair maybe because of her age or maybe because she wanted to look like a queen. It didn't work; she didn't look like a queen. She looked terrible. The stress of the last few weeks had taken its toll. For once her money hadn't helped. I never liked her and since I was sure she was behind my divorce, I felt a revulsion toward her. The woman had no power over me now. I nodded to her but said nothing.

I offered my mechanical condolences to Katherine’s mother who I also never liked. She was too scatter brained and weak to have had much influence on my divorce.

To Bill I offered my sincere condolences. He was a much diminished man since the last time I saw him. He was a man of influence and power in the state but it hadn’t helped him get Will back. It had affected him terribly. I always liked Bill and felt genuinely sad for him. He looked like he had lost twenty or thirty pounds and what little hair he had left was grayer.

Katherine was next and in some ways the hardest for me to face. How would I address the woman who had cut off my access to the children? Why wasn’t I in line receiving condolences? Why was I in the line handing them out? I finally said, “Katherine, I am sorry for your loss.” Her eyes were so sad I couldn’t look in them. She thanked me.

Lastly was Will in his casket. His casket was not much longer than the span of one of my arms. Such a small box for a small boy. The casket was closed of course. He must have been in an advanced state of decay when found.

I moved to the head of his casket and whispered my goodbyes. In a lower whisper I told him that I had twisted the head off the bastard responsible for his death just like little boys twist the heads off flies. I told him I had killed the others who did the kidnapping. I doubt if Will could hear me but I felt better. Lydia was hanging on my arm like I was a life preserver in a storm. I don’t know what she heard but I didn’t care. I was beginning to understand that maybe she was the only person in the world whom I could trust completely.

Bill had an usher take us to our seats. We weren’t seated in the back as I had suggested. Bill had us seated one row from the front on the left side of the church. We weren’t family but we were treated as important friends.

The service was not long for which I was grateful. Immediately after the service we drove to the cemetery for the interment. For me this was the saddest and most final part. I was having a hard time keeping it together and many weren’t. Lydia was still clinging to me and that helped me more than I could have imagined.

Thankfully it was over and we were free to leave when Bill came over to us. He wanted to make sure that we would come to his house where they were having a big buffet dinner. I didn’t want to go but we all needed to eat and Bill was very insistent. He added that he wanted with talk to me privately back at the house and not to leave until we had talked. I had no idea of anything that we needed to talk about. I had pestered him for months, asking that he campaign with Katherine and Mama Woodward to grant me visitation rights. Nothing had come of that so I had ceased calling him about it. We finally agreed to go to his house mostly because we needed food although I don’t think anyone was hungry after a child’s funeral.