Darker Still (2 page)

Cheryl paused a moment. She seemed to be gathering some thoughts or maybe she was just trying to get a handle on her emotions. John wasn’t quite sure. Maybe his skills at reading people were not as advanced as he liked to think they were.

“You asked me if Steven ever became violent or showed signs of being weird.”

“Yes. Why? Are you remembering something?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I want to hear it. It’s ok. Just whatever you can recall no matter how mundane it may seem.”

“Well, I remember once we were having a cookout at Theresa’s place with a few friends and she accidentally spilled one of his beers. He yelled at her, grabbed his fold up chair and folded it up. For a split second I thought he was going to hit her with it, but he instantly straightened up and put that goofy grin of his back all over his face and apologized. The rest of the day went along fine, but for one second I saw something different in him.”

“Well, I’m definitely going to talk to him and see if anything turns up. I will let you know of course,” John said.

“I appreciate everything you guys are trying to do detective, but I want you to level with me. What do you think the chances are that you will find my sister’s killer?”

John looked deep into Cheryl’s eyes. She had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen and he wanted nothing more than to get lost in them while he told her that they would certainly solve this case, but he knew that would only magnify the hurt she was feeling. She was smart and she would know that he was feeding her a line of bull even while she smiled and pretended to accept it. He had seen it all too many times.

“It really depends on a few things. If your sister didn’t have any known enemies and we can’t establish a motive for the murder then the chance is pretty low. I hate to tell you that, but I want to be honest with you.”

Tears welled up in Cheryl’s eyes and for a moment John wondered about whether or not he had done the right thing. He hated to see anyone in pain and he felt even worse when it looked like he was the cause of it.

“Don’t give up hope. We have a great team and we will do everything we can.”

“Great team? Here in Belpre? Do you know how many random murders happen here? Almost none. It is a small town. The only murders that are committed are done by people that were known to the victim and its usually pretty clear cut right away that they are guilty. I follow the news. I know what I’m talking about.”

“I understand that, but you don’t know me. Now the other detectives and officers on the force haven’t dealt with that many homicides. I know most of the ones that do happen around here are to do with the rising drug trade or the occasional domestic issue that takes a turn for the worst. But I am not from here. I worked homicide in Columbus for twelve years. I recently got tired of the hustle and bustle up there and decided to come down here to my hometown for a break. I wanted a change of pace. Now it looks like I’m dealing with the same old thing. But I have experience on this. I have more experience than anyone else in the county and trust me when I say that if this murder is solvable then I will find the person who did it.”

John took a large gulp of his now lukewarm coffee to end his rant. He had actually started to fire himself up. It had been a while since he had really gotten excited about catching a killer again. He hoped that it had not been too much for Cheryl to take though. She had a look on her face like she thought he might be full of shit or crazy.

“So, you moved from Columbus back here? And you did it because you were tired of the violence you witnessed up there? I can only imagine in a place that big what kind of depravity you have witnessed,” Cheryl said as the waitress refilled their coffees.

John looked at her for a moment, studying her face. Besides the fact that she was so beautiful that she was hazardous for men with pace makers to be around Cheryl was a very bright and streetwise girl. She had not picked up that knowledge from the small town of Belpre, population thirty-five thousand as of last year.

“Yea, it is insane and twisted what some people do to each other,” John thought. It was only a matter of time before Cheryl found out what sick things the killer did to her sister. She had not seen the body and she did not know the details of how her sister was killed. She did not know that her sister was almost gutted and completely decapitated. She did not need to know yet that her sister’s eyeballs were missing. John had conveniently glossed over those facts when she probed him for details of what happened to her sister.

She would probably find out in the media before long anyway. They had said nothing to the press, but they always found out somehow. He knew that there would be someone on the force who would provide information to the press for a price and it was almost impossible to find out who had talked and kick them off the force. It had been that way in every department he had ever worked in.

“What is the worst thing you have ever seen?” Cheryl asked.

John raised his eyebrow. Was she serious? Why was she asking those questions? It made him uneasy and he tried to change the subject quickly.

“Excuse me?”

“What is the most messed up thing you’ve seen?”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable talking about that. I actually have done my best to repress all of that stuff.”

She shot him a look of “gimme a break”.

“Come on. I know you remember something. I’m curious.”

“That’s an odd thing for a young lady to be curious about,” John said. He felt weird calling her young lady when he was probably only about twelve years older than her. And he was having very impure thoughts about her and had been since he’d laid eyes on her.

It had been a while since he had been with a woman. He had not really wanted to pursue anyone since Cathy left him. It had happened about two years ago. The two of them had been scheduled to get married and then she just up and left him one day. He came home from work to find her stuff gone and a note on the fridge. She couldn’t handle the job. That was what she had said. He understood that and that was one of the reasons he had moved from Columbus. In Belpre he thought the job would not consume his entire being and he wouldn’t end up running around morning and night chasing murderers. He figured he would find the occasional convenience store robbery, or maybe even a bank robbery here and there landing on his desk. He did not think two months into the job he would be face to face with one of the sickest murder scenes he had ever witnessed.

“I’ve always been kind of fascinated about the dark side of human nature,” Cheryl said.

“I guess most people are to a certain extent,” John replied. “I would say the weirdest thing was this teenage boy who had cut his eyelids off because he said that a voice told him to. Most of the worst things I’ve seen have been people doing awful things to themselves or to people they love.”

“Why is that do you suppose?”

“I’m not sure, but for some reason love and hate are intertwined in such a way that people become enraged so that they end up hurting someone they love far worse than they ever would a stranger.”

Cheryl leaned back in her chair. She seemed to be thinking about something but John did not push her. He decided to let her come forth with information on her own if she wanted to share it.

“I guess the world is sicker than I thought.”

“It can be. It can be,” John said.

He finished his cup of coffee and told Cheryl that he would contact her with any new information and he gave her his card as well in case anything came to her mind that might be relevant.

He headed down to the station and when he reached his desk he began to peruse through the evidence list that they had discovered so far. It was too early for there to be much to go on. So far there were no prints found, no outside blood that did not belong to the victim, any hair fibers or clothing fibers. Whoever this person was they were good. They understood police procedure and they knew how to avoid detection.

So far John only had the ex-boyfriend to go on as far as any possible suspects or even people to interview, but he figured that was going to be a dead end. The person they were looking for did this crime in an impersonal way. John had seen the signs before and he hated to even think it but it was a big possibility.

There might be a serial killer loose in this small town.

He almost laughed at the idea, but he knew that whoever did this crime had done it before. The entire thing was too ritualized and too controlled to be done in any sort of anger or frenzy. The person was not emotionally driven to commit this crime; he did not know the victim. He may have chosen the victim out of someone that he had seen fairly casually somewhere in public, or he may have been stalking in some other fashion. Either way this did not seem like a random killing.

John did not dare bring this information to the chief or to anyone else at the station. It was far too early into the investigation to really tell that sort of thing and he was not going to be laughed at. He had the experience and the chops to know that he knew what he was talking about, but the other officers and detectives around him (all five of them) would have laughed him out of the office.

He decided to keep his basic lid on it. There would be time to spring forth the multiple murderer scenario when they had multiple murders. John realized how cold and sick that sounded, but he knew that there was nothing else to go on with this murder and they would never solve this crime until they had another murder where the killer made a mistake. They always did eventually, but sometimes you had to wait them out until they did. You worked the case and you went over everything time and time again so that you could pretend that you thought you had a shot, but the truth was that you were fooling yourself. Deep down you knew that most murders that are not solved in forty-eight hours are never solved and if they are it is because the killer got sloppy with another murder or they committed some other crime and got caught for that.

He sat there thinking for a minute and wondering if he could sneak to the bathroom to down a few shots of scotch without anyone noticing. He decided against it. With something like this being thrown on his back he realized that he had to remain as sharp and as alert as he possibly could. There was no room for error now that his wits were being called into play.

John wanted to call the ME and see if they had found anything yet, but it was far too early. He was hoping he would not be meeting the resident medical examiner for quite some time, if at all since he had moved back here. But it seemed that he was destined to become friends with them.

John decided that he would do some research on the infamous boyfriend, Mr. Rich. He did a quick google search which did not pull up much and then he checked the background data base, which basically pulled up the guy’s entire life story.

He had been a good student, born and raised in Portsmouth Ohio. He had attended college at Ohio University and then went to grad school there as well. He began teaching at the college level after obtaining his master’s degree while he was continuing to pursue his PhD. That was rather admirable. John had thought about getting a higher degree so he could teach at the college level, especially when he got closer to the retirement age.

So far Steven Rich looked fine on paper. There were no convictions or even misdemeanors on his records. The guy didn’t have so much as a stinking parking ticket or a speeding ticket. He was squeaky clean, but that didn’t reflect on any of his juvenile convictions. Of course the juvenile records were sealed and as a cop John was not allowed to gain access to them.

He decided that he would just pay a visit to the wise professor.

“So, the psychopath really has no real identifiable emotions. He reacts to everything on a purely cold and calculated basis. He does not feel closeness or empathy to anyone or any living thing. Therefore they are always bored and see life as one big game to be played by using other people to get what they want. They are not restrained by any sense of morality or any sort of right or wrong.”

Steven Rich was just wrapping up his lecture when John arrived and snuck into the back of the class room. The college was a small liberal arts school in nearby Marietta, about a twenty minute drive from Belpre.

John was enjoying hear Steven remark all about the psychopathic makeup. He had dealt with several psychopaths in his line of work and that was the kind of psychopath that most people thought of when they heard the word. They figured they were all serial killers and violent criminals, but that only represented less than one percent of psychopaths. Most people knew at least one person who was a psychopath. That was the scariest thing.

“That’s all for today everybody,” Steven said wrapping things up. “Don’t forget that your reports are due by tomorrow. I will accept nothing turned in late. That is a rule,” Steven said.

John waited until the last student left before standing up and walking to the front of the class. Steven didn’t even notice him at first; he was too busy packing up his things. Probably to head to another class somewhere way across campus.

“Professor Rich?” John said.

“Yes?”

“I’m detective John Anderson with Belpre PD. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Steven looked like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment. It was a look that John was very used to seeing. It did not automatically imply guilt though as most people might assume. A lot of people got nervous while talking to police officers and they just froze up and instantly thought that they had done something wrong or that he thought they did something wrong. Really it was kind of amusing.

“Sure. Do you mind if we talk in my office? There is another class coming in to use this room in a few minutes.”

“Sure. You lead the way,” John said.

Rich’s office was a small space barely bigger than a cubicle and John found himself wondering why the college professors were treated so poorly. They were the cornerstone of the institution and without them the school couldn’t do anything. It seemed wrong that they were put into offices that were barely bigger than a walk in closet.