Creepers (3 page)

Ricky Dixon was a class one asshole and as mean as a badger.  No one ever messed with Ricky.  Not and keep all their teeth, that was.  Hell, the only reason Yancy had hung around with him so long was just so he wouldn’t get picked on.  Ricky would still pick on him, even beat the hell out of him on occasion for no good reason, but everyone else left him alone.  For Yancy that was enough, mostly.  He also hung around Ricky because of his sister, Terri.  Yancy’d had a crush on her since the seventh grade.

Weirdness number three was that Ricky hadn’t shown up to work either.  That wasn’t like Ricky at all.  Say what you want about the man, he had a good job ethic.  Ricky never missed a day of work, not if he could avoid it.  Nor did he come in late.  For Ricky, work was pride.  It was the one decent thing he kept from his Mama Yancy decided.  Ricky believed in doing a good job and upholding the commitment you made to an employer when you accepted a job.  For everything else Ricky was, or what he lacked, he was a hell of an employee.

So for Ricky to not show up and not call, Yancy knew something must be wrong.  If it wasn’t and Yancy had the law come out to Ricky’s place, he knew he would get a beating for it.  But deep down, Yancy just knew something was not right.  He waffled on the fence for a half hour or so, weighing the possibility that Ricky and Sheila needed help against the pain he would endure if he were wrong.  Finally, he made a decision and on his break he called the police.

By noon on Monday, Officer Jack Fisher had just turned his cruiser onto the lane that led up to the home of Ricky Dixon and Sheila Eckers.  As he drove along the dusty road, the heat and humidity created a haze across the land.  It dulled the day and filtered the sun in a cloudless sky.  Jack glanced up at the hazy sky and sighed.  He just couldn’t understand how it could be so humid and not rain, this was the worst drought that he had seen in these parts since he could remember.

Jack focused back on the road in front of him and drove on.  The day was oppressive, and he wanted to finish his chore out in these backwoods.  He wanted to be back at the diner in town, sipping on a tall iced tea.  Unconsciously he licked his lips then and reached down to turn up the AC, but it was already running at full blast.  He sighed again and adjusted himself in the seat so his damp back could get some of the cool air coming from the vents.

Jack rounded a final bend and came upon the old mobile home that Ricky Dixon owned.  It backed up into the woods and was half covered in vines as most of the old trailers in this part of the country seemed to be.  The first thing that Jack noticed was the absence of any vehicles, except for the broken down old clunker in the side yard.  The second thing Jack saw was the wide opened front door and damaged window screen at the nearest end of the trailer.

He slowed to a stop and peered at the trailer.  His mind racing, he opened his door and slowly stepped out.  The heat hit him like a sledgehammer, and his brow began to bead with sweat.  He wiped it away with the back of his hand and donned his hat.  Jack rested his right hand on the butt of his pistol and yelled out.

“Ricky?  Sheila?  You in there?” he asked.  His only response was silence.  Jack scowled and asked again, “Ricky?  Shelia?”  Then he added, “This is Officer Fisher.” 

There was still no answer, so Jack took a breath and headed cautiously toward the door.  The gravel driveway crunched beneath his boots, but that was the only sound he heard.  As he neared the door, Jack drew his service revolver and flashlight.  He called out a third time, but again there was no answer.  Jack switched on the flashlight and climbed the rickety old steps to the front door.  They squeaked in protest to his weight, and it only added to his trepidation.

Jack swallowed hard and stepped inside the trailer.  His light did little to cut through the murk.  It was dark and sweltering, and he felt as though he had entered a sauna.  More overpowering than the heat was the smell.  Jack wrinkled his nose in distaste and covered his mouth with the sleeve of his gun hand.  It was an odd assortment of smells he decided.  There was the stench of spoiled food and filth, but there was also an earthy smell.  It was an earthy smell mixed with other, acrid aromas.  Somewhat sweet and acidic all at the same time, it just didn’t make sense.

Jack gathered himself and moved his gun hand into a more protective stance, holding the revolver out before him.  He peered around the room and saw nothing out of the ordinary.  There were clutter and trash, but no real signs of a struggle.  However, Jack knew this wasn’t right.  He gripped the revolver tighter and moved past the kitchen down the narrow hall toward the back of the trailer.  This end of the trailer contained a bedroom and a bathroom, but little else.  Both rooms appeared ordinary, empty but not unusual.

With the search of the rear of the trailer being fruitless, he found himself once again in the living room.  Jack paused there, not wanting to go any further.  He had somehow felt that was where he needed to be, and he was procrastinating.  Deep down, he had no desire to see what had been left there for him.  Jack knew Ricky Dixon all too well and had surmised what lay in the room beyond, what he might find.  His suspicion all along was that Ricky had killed Sheila, and he wasn’t ready to see it.

Although Jack had been a cop for nearly four years, he had seen little in the way of death.  Well, violent death at any rate.  That’s one of the reasons he liked this area so much, not a lot ever happened.  Yes, there were the occasional car accidents.  There was even a hunting accident or two, but most of the deaths he had encountered were just old age and ill health.  In truth, Jack had never worked a murder before, and that’s just what he was afraid he would find in the bedroom.

Eventually, Jack surrendered to his sworn duty and moved into the tiny bedroom at the front of the trailer.  The earthy acrid smell was strongest here, and it slapped him in the face.  However, it was the scene that punched him in the stomach and caused his legs to get rubbery.  He gagged and quickly turned to the side trying to avoid contaminating the scene with his own vomit.  Stifling his gorge, Jack turned back to the bedroom and surveyed it like the cop he was supposed to be.

The room itself showed no signs of a struggle and nothing actually seemed to be disturbed except for the bed.  There were a few leaves and twigs on the floor that must have blown in through the broken window screen, but that was all.  The entire room appeared perfectly normal except for the bed.  Everything that had happened here had occurred on the bed, and it made Jack sick to think about it.  

There was a torn pair of panties covered in blood lying in the middle of what appeared to be bodily fluids that had soaked into the mattress.  As he looked closer, Jack saw several bits of skin and even a severed finger lying on the sheets.  Blood, there was not nearly as much blood as Jack figured there should be, not given the picture his mind had painted for him.  Jack’s imagination had taken the few bits of information in the room and ran wild with it.  To Jack the room was a nightmare of torture and death. 

While there truly was not enough here to confirm any death had occurred, that’s what Jack’s gut was telling him.  There had been violence, but that was all he knew for sure.  Yet, in his heart he knew a murder had occurred.  Jack also felt this was not a mere killing; this was something far worse.  Of course, Jack was not a homicide detective or a crime scene investigator but he knew enough to know that something horrific had happened here.  Something very out of the ordinary had happened here.  Jack’s gut also told him who this had been.  In the bloodied mess of the finger, there was a ring.  Jack figured this to be what remained of Sheila Eckers.

Jack had seen enough and let his weak legs carry him from the trailer to his cruiser.  Half way there he could stifle the urge no more.  He fell to all fours and threw up on the gravel driveway.  The tiny rocks dug into his knees as he wretched until nothing more would come up.  Jack wiped the spittle and bile from his lips with the back of his hand and realized he was still holding his gun.  He holstered it and continued toward his cruiser to report what he had found, and put out an all-points bulletin on Ricky Dixon and Sheila Eckers.

***

As she put away the dishes, Terri could hear the sirens approaching.  It wasn’t until she stepped out onto the old wooden porch that she realized they were behind her, across the small patch of woods that separated Jesse’s house from her brother’s place.  At first Terri was not that concerned, she knew what an ass her brother was, and of what he was capable.  She was more worried about his girlfriend, Sheila.  Or more precisely, what he might have done to her.

Soon there was a second siren, and then a third.  It was only then her concern started to grow. At first it was just for Sheila.  Then after another siren sounded in the distance, Terri became concerned for her brother as well.  The concern quickly edged toward panic as terrible thoughts began to race through her mind.  Thoughts of what Ricky had done, or what one of the many people he had tormented over the years had done to him.

Although Terri had little use for her family she still didn’t wish any harm to them.  As evil as her brother was, he was still her brother, and she even liked Sheila a little.  She also felt sorry for her.  Terri knew what it was like living with the Dixon men, and she was family.  She couldn’t even imagine how it had been for poor Sheila all this time.  Even though she was not in the same house as Terri’s old man, he still managed to make his nasty presence known.  Or at least felt.

So Terri knew that she had to go over and find out what had happened.  She needed to know, if not entirely for her family, then at least for Sheila.

“Jesse?” Terri yelled to the house, “Something is going on at Ricky’s.”  She paused then added, “Something bad.”

“What do you mean child?”  Jesse asked as he came to the front door.

“The sirens,” she replied, “they’re over at Ricky’s place.”

“That don’t sound right; that’s for sure,” Jesse said as he stepped out onto the porch and heard the sirens for himself.  He continued, “Let me get the car and we…”

Terri cut him off, “I can get there faster on my own.  It’s only ten minutes through the woods.”

“No,” Jesse said firmly, “you ain’t going through them woods.  I’ll drive you.  You don’t want to be alone in them woods.”  His tone softened, “You don’t want to be alone honey.  If something has happened you just don’t want to be alone.  Let me drive you over.  Another fifteen minutes or so ain’t going to make that much difference.”

“You’re probably right,” Terri conceded.  “Thank you, Da…Jesse,” then added, “I love you.”

“I know child,” Jesse said as he pulled her in for a hug, “I love you too.”  As an afterthought he added, “And promise me you won’t go into them woods.  They’re not safe.”

Terri only nodded, her head buried in his chest.   She was fighting back tears, and she knew that if she looked into his gentle eyes she would break down and cry.  That was something she couldn’t afford, not right now.  She needed to get to Ricky’s.  Terri couldn’t explain exactly why she needed to be there so badly, she just did.  She finally decided that family was family, no matter what, and that was all.  It didn’t matter if they weren’t the type of people with whom you would choose to associate.  They were still your family and you loved them because of that, not in spite of it.

Jesse pushed her away and walked out to the barn to get his old Buick.  It was a big, dusty, rusty relic from before Terri was born.  Something one of his parishioners had given him, she surmised.  He would drive it until it just wouldn’t run anymore, and then someone else would give him another one.  That’s how it always seemed to work, as far as Terri could tell.  Jesse would only say that God knew what he needed more than he did, and had always provided.

Terri rode in silence as Jesse maneuvered the big old boat through the back roads that led to Ricky and Sheila’s trailer.  Her thoughts were racing, and she wasn’t in the mood for talking.  Jesse didn’t seem to mind and whistled some made up tune that seemed somewhat odd given the circumstances.  Terri knew that Jesse was just being Jesse and smiled inwardly.

Before long, and to Terri’s mild surprise, they pulled up to a scene from any myriad of cop shows that filled television these days.  The driveway was filled with state police cruisers, an ambulance, a couple of other vehicles she couldn’t identify, and the Sherriff’s Office car.  Terri instantly recognized the officer standing next to it.  She had known Jack for quite a few years, and even had a crush on him at one point.  He appeared to be on his car radio and only noticed them when they pulled up beside him.

***

Jack Fisher quickly ended his conversation with dispatch and walked up to Terri’s door before she had time to open it.  He leaned down and peered into the window, but wouldn’t allow his gaze to catch Terri’s eyes.

“What’s going on Jack?” she asked as she tried to push the car door open.

Jack held the door firm and replied, “Hold on Terri.  You can’t go in there just yet…and I wouldn’t want you ever to go in there.”

Panic flashed on Terri’s face, and she pushed harder at the door.  “What’s happened?  What is it?” she demanded.  “Is it Sheila…my brother…what?”

Jack held firm at the car door and calmly said, “We don’t know what has happened, not exactly.  We only know that we have a crime scene,” his voice trembling a bit.  Then he continued, “Your brother wasn’t in there, neither was Sheila.  We don’t know where they are.  Have you seen or heard from them since Friday night?”

Terri was dazed, “What?  No, no I haven’t talked to either one of them.”  Then she asked, “Did he do something to Sheila?  Jack, you need to tell me.  Did Ricky hurt Sheila?”

Jack took a deep breath then finally looked into Terri’s eyes and said, “I don’t know.  We don’t know who’s been hurt yet for sure.  Both he and Sheila and his truck are missing, and you know how he is…”  Jack paused and shook his head slowly then continued, “I just don’t think that even Ricky could do what had been done in that trailer.”

Panic welled in Terri’s throat, but she swallowed it down and pleaded, “What, what happened in there?”

“I can’t say,” Jack replied, “It’s an ongoing investigation.  But I will tell you to lock your doors until this is over.”   He said this to Jesse as much as Terri, “something bad has happened here and until we get it figured out I don’t think anyone is safe.”  He said to Jesse, “Take her home will you Reverend?  I will be in touch with you later, and there is nothing you can do here.”

Jesse nodded and put a hand on Terri’s arm.  “I’ll take care of her,” he assured the officer.  “We’ll be at the house if you need us.”

“Thank you,” Jack replied.  “I have to go talk to your father Terri, and then to Sheila’s parents.  Then I have to head back to the station for a while.  I’ll check on you when I get off shift.”  He gave her a comforting smile then stood up.