The River Runs Dry (11 page)

“Well that's the weirdest bit, in a way. He probably has a completely normal life most of the time. He's probably a charming guy, someone most people would get along with. Most are, and live for years, only killing when they get an insatiable urge to do so. Sometimes there can be breaks of months, even years, between their murders.”

“So you're saying we might have walked past him in town? You're saying he could be the bank manager or the guy who serves you in a restaurant?”

Jess nodded, slowly. “Exactly.”

Darcia exhaled loudly. “Well that's nice to know. That makes me feel better. So he's out there today, in his job, and the police, no one, has any idea who he is. He's probably reading the paper and laughing. It could be anyone.”

“Well, I guess so, but you can narrow it down a bit,” said Jess, as if she was talking in a classroom full of students. “I will be a man, you can almost guarantee that...”

“Yeah, obviously! What else?”

Jess had a think for a while. Frankly, she could only speculate without any real details. “OK, so he's attacking young women with medium length brown hair and blue eyes. So he needs to be close enough to see their eyes before he'll attack. So, he's probably going to bars and waiting for the girls to get drunk, then following them home.”

“Jesus, I'm never going out again. He might have been to the Shack on Fridays with us before? Shit, maybe that's how he saw Taylor?”

“I doubt it. She was in LA, remember.”

Darcia's eyes sank once again. “Oh, yeah.”

“Look, let's not talk about this any more babe. It's too morbid. Just let's make sure we don't go out at night, unless we're with some of the guys...”

“But what about you? You live alone? Do you wanna come and live with me for a while, you know, while your house is being sold?”

Jess smiled. “That's a sweet offer, but I'll be fine honey. I've got double locks on the doors and everything, so I'm not worried.”

“You're
not
worried. I'm so scared I don't ever wanna leave the house.”

“Life goes on though, you can't let fear stop you living. Anyway, we've both gotta work, today actually, so we'd better get going soon.”

“Not me,” Darcia said quickly. “Fucking Boring Brian reduced my shifts after I went off work. I only work part-time now.”

“Are you kidding. I fucking hate that guy. When we move to LA, he'll be the last person I'll miss.”

Darcia looked straight in Jessie's eye, her face steeling. “Second to last person you mean.”

Jessie couldn't disagree.

…

It was later that afternoon that Jess walked from Darcia's house towards the diner a mile or so away towards the eastern edge of the town. Usually she'd drive, but the weather wasn't so scorchingly hot today, so it was nice to be outside in the fresher air for once.

As she walked she clearly noticed a greater police presence on the streets, although she couldn't work out why they were there. Frankly, it had become clear that this killer worked at night, so having these cops around wasn't exactly going to help right now in the middle of the day.

When she rounded the corner towards the town's center, however, she realized that it wasn't just a heavy presence of police on the streets, but regular people as well, and media too. It looked like some kind of impromptu protest was going on as people gathered outside of the police department.

She gazed over the scene. Half the town seemed to be gathered outside, many of them holding signs and making plenty of noise.

No more murders
, read one.

Protect our girls
, another.

Jessie's eyes ran across the faces in the crowd. She recognized many of them – fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, boyfriends, friends, and other extended family of the girls who'd been killed. Burgess was a tight community, with several large families going back generations still important members of the local population. Jessie knew that if one girl died, it wasn't just her family and friends who would suffer. No, the entire town would feel the sting.

She walked forwards to see police guarding the doors to the police department, with several other guards around the perimeter. There were photographers there taking pictures and journalists interviewing people. Jessie recognized one of them as Taylor's father, who she'd last seen at her funeral.

Her eyes kept scanning and she saw one of the bartenders from the Shack, a girl called Lena, standing towards the back of the crowd. She looked as though she'd only caught the back end of this, as Jess had.

“Lena, hey Lena,” she called, moving forward and tapping her arm.

“Ah hey Jess,” the girl said, turning around, “what's up?”

“Well, what's going on? I was on my way to work and I just ran into this.”

“It's a protest, about the killings,” Lena said, her tone slightly mocking. “What do you think it is?”

“Well I can tell that, yeah. But who arranged it, what are they protesting against exactly?”

“Well it's that young detective running the investigation. He's got no experience, he's never gonna catch this guy. It's like the police aren't even taking this seriously, it's like they don't know what they're doing.”

“I'm sure they know what they're doing,” said Jess bluntly.

“Yeah, well people aren't so sure. I mean, do you wanna be next because the cops are too incompetent to find this guy? And if not you, Darcia or someone you care about. Or don't you care?”

“Of course I care, don't be stupid. I just don't think this sort of thing helps when they're trying to investigate murders in there. You don't have a clue how they're going really, none of us do. We only know what we read about in the press, and they'll stir the pot over anything to make a better story.”

Lena shook her head and turned back to the action. “That's bullshit. They're sitting in there doing fuck all and we're being killed out here.”

Screw this. This girl's got no idea how things work, none of these people probably do.

Jess kept moving, rounding the throng and walking past the Burgess PD where they were all gathered, mindlessly staring and chanting.
Jesus Christ this place is turning to turmoil.

Then a murmur ran through the gathering and boos rang out as Jessie quickly turned her head. Her eyes saw through a gap in the crowd to see the front door of the building open, and the Chief of Police walk out.

He raised his hands and the crowds began to hush, keen to hear what he had to say.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I understand your frustration...”

“Frustration...girls are being murdered,” someone shouted, and the jeers of the crowd started up again.

“I understand that you're all hurting,” shouted the chief, once again quietening down the crowd, “and I understand that you're all scared, for your families, for your friends, and for yourselves....but I assure you we are doing everything we can to bring this killer to justice.”

“This butcher, you mean!” shouted the same man. “He's not just killing, Bill, he's mutilating people.”

“Yes, and I assure you that
when
we catch him, he will pay for the crimes he has committed.”

“And when will that be? When another girl is dead? Or maybe two, or three?” The crowd started getting worked up again, their voices rising.

“All I can say is that we're doing all we can,” the chief repeated. “I can't tell you anything more than that at this time. I know it's hard, but you're going to have to trust us.”

“Yeah, we trust
you
, but what about this kid running the investigation. He's too wet for this. Why can't you get a real investigator in? Where's the FBI?”

“Detective Slade is a fine investigator and he is doing a fine job, but we understand your concerns. This killer, as far as we know so far, hasn't killed across State lines, so is currently within our jurisdiction to bring to justice. If, and when, we need assistance from the FBI, we will ask for it.”

“Well ask for it,” came the calls from the crowd, “we need all the help we can get.”

“Now please,” shouted the chief over the clamor, “please go back to your lives and understand that we're doing all we can here. This protest isn't helping, it's draining our resources and taking out attention from the case. If you want this killer caught, help us, don't hinder us.”

Jessie then watched on as the chief went back inside the building, the two officers shutting the door and standing guard against it.

He's right. This isn't helping. The press, the people, they're all just getting in the way.

She began walking again, heading around the corner and down the adjacent street. The loud murmuring began to die out as she moved away, the crowd slowly dispersing but for the more passionate few who remained.

She was shaking her head and looking back as she went, mumbling to herself a few things about 'letting them do their jobs' and 'you're only making things worse'.

Then she heard a sudden voice, in reply, coming from the small parking lot at the back of the building.

Her pulse soared for a brief moment as she turned, the voice close to her, but behind a metal fence.

“I see you're not so impressed with all that Miss Trent.”

Her eyes squinted in the sunlight and focused on Jack Slade, the detective of the hour, standing with a cigarette in his hand and weary look in his eye.

He lifted the smoke to his mouth and took a long drag, simultaneously lifting a packet out of his jacket pocket with his other hand and gesturing to it with his eyes.

She walked closer, shaking her head. “No thanks detective, I don't smoke.”

“Neither do I. Well, not until recently, anyway.” He spoke with a slight smile on his face, one which bellied how he must have been feeling right now.

“You remembered my name,” Jessie said.

“Of course I did. I'm a detective. Although,” he paused, taking another drag, “the people in this town don't seem to think I am.”

“Give them time,” said Jessie. “They'd be like this with anyone. If it was a 30 year vet, he'd be over the hill. If it was an FBI guy, they'd say he doesn't know the lay of the land. You're a rookie, so that's what they're clinging to.”

Jack nodded his head. “Wise girl. How old are you?”

“I'm 23, nearing 24.”

“Well that's good advice Miss Trent, I'll certainly take it on board. Excuse me for saying this, but you seem a little too smart to be working in a diner.”

Jessie laughed lightly. “I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not.”

“Well, that depends on you. You can take it either way. The choice is yours.”

“In that case I'll take it as a compliment, life's easier that way.”

“Good way to look at it. And yes, that's how it was meant.” Jack moved slightly closer to the fence and lowered his voice. “Is there something you do away from the diner?”

A thousand memories rushed through Jessie's mind. Usually such a question would cause her to shut down and retreat into her shell, but there was something disarming about the way Jack asked her, looked at her.

“Well, I'm planning on going back to college, as it happens.”

“Back?”

“Yeah...I was there for two years, but had to come back. It's been a while, but I'm ready to have another go at it.”

“Well I'm sorry, and glad, to hear it, if you know what I mean. Coming through adversity is what makes us who we are. Why did you leave, if you'll excuse me asking.”

Jessie paused for a moment. It wasn't a subject she usually visited with strangers. “My mom died and, well, I lost myself for a little while. I think, now, I'm starting to rediscover who I am.”

Jack smiled from behind his bars, his teeth white and shining under the bright light of day. “That's good to hear. My mother also died when I was younger, so I understand your pain.”

“It can be a prison, can't it,” said Jessie, staring into Jack's eyes. “Sometimes, you feel like you're locked in permanently, like you've been given a grief life sentence.”

Jack nodded, his own memories of the death of his mother now flooding his mind. It was a long time ago now, though, and he'd long since broken free of that cell.

“It's liberating when you break out, though, Miss Trent, as I'm sure you're finding out. Feeling like
you
again. That's powerful. So what is it that you studied at college? Are you planning on rejoining the same path?”

“Something quite appropriate, given what's happening in town. Criminal psychology.”

“Ah, wow, that is, I don't know, current,” replied Jack. “Perhaps that explains your stats when you served me in the diner, and your disagreement with the protest out front.”

“I suppose it does. I understand the finer points of criminal investigation and psychology, but I don't blame the people out here for acting as they are. They're in pain, and when you're in pain, you lash out.”

Jack looked at Jessie now, an impressed smile growing on his face. This girl in the diner was more than she seemed.

“I understand that Miss Trent. But a baying mob has power that they, perhaps, shouldn't in certain circumstances. If they continue like this, I may find myself off the case.”

“And yet there's nothing you can do to convince them otherwise,” said Jessie. “It's a difficult situation for you. You can't give them any information, so there's no way for you to prove your worth, and they won't be satisfied until this killer is in the chair.”

“Well then, Miss Trent, I better make sure I don't disappoint them hadn't I?”

Jessie nodded. “I suppose you had.”

Chapter 14

Jack sat at the hospital bed of Leanna Graves, her father sitting to the other side. Her head was heavily bandaged around the eyes, numerous cuts carefully stitched up on the face and scalp. It was heartbreaking to see her in such a state, sitting motionless on the bed, her father in a state next to her.

He'd spoken to Leanne's father a few days ago and interviewed him about what had happened that night at the house. He told Jack he'd been out of town working on a contract for a few weeks, and that he wanted to get home early that morning to surprise his daughter when she got up.