The River Runs Dry (13 page)

Overall, the trip had been a great success for Jessie, and that smile on her face, that wide smile that spread from ear to ear, was a symptom of that. She sat in the sun, the air crisp and warm, but not stifling like it was in Burgess, and finally saw the light; that light at the end of the tunnel, a tunnel that had been so dark and claustrophobic for so long. Her future was being set, and she was finally starting to move on.

…

It was later that afternoon that Jessie sat in a bar, alone, nearby to her hotel. She'd known that it was the bar that Taylor had worked at when she used to live there, so wanted to check it out.

It was weird walking in there, knowing that it might have been the last place she was seen. The killer might have even spoken to her, or perhaps he just watched her from across the bar. Maybe he followed her home, or attacked her down a quiet street and got her into his car.

Jessie's mind ran with such thoughts for a while, that smile on her face disintegrating slowly. A fear had settled in Burgess now, and even here, on the other side of the state, Jessie felt the weight of someone watching, always watching. It was a feeling that had begun to settle in her back home, one that half the women, and even some of the men, had begun to experience.

Darcia had fully gone through with her threat, and hardly left the house any more. Her part time working hours were only from morning until early afternoon, when the sun was still up and the streets were still busy. When the sun went down, the town went into hiding, and even Jessie found herself checking that her doors were locked regularly, even when she knew they were.

The sooner she left Burgess, the better. It was like everyone was living with a cloud hanging over them, a rain cloud that followed them wherever they went and dampened their spirits. The streets had grown steadily quieter as the weeks went by, but now they were almost always empty at night.

Some carried on living their lives, most of them men who thought themselves immune to such dangers, but most were now living in fear, the fear that maybe one day the Butcher would strike at their eyes, that they'd walk into their house to see their own loved ones tied up and mutilated.

And no one was immune from
that
fear. Whether you thought you'd be a victim or not, that fear that someone close to you would die such a horrible death could never be far from your mind. It was that fear that drove the protest the previous week, that fear that was seeping into everyone's veins. Jessie understood it as much as anyone, and she wondered, just as everyone else did, when the Butcher would strike again.

Her train of thought was broken suddenly, a hand coming down on the bar beside her and a voice at her side.

“Well this
is
a small world Miss Trent.”

She looked up quickly, her eyes wide, to see Jack Slade standing next to her. “Jesus, you scared me!” she said, fumbling her words a touch.

“Sorry about that,” he said, sitting down on the bar stool next to her.

“And what the hell are
you
doing here?” she asked, still slightly shaken.

“I'm doing what I'm always doing,” he said. “My job.”

“But isn't your job back in Burgess?”

Jack nodded. “It is, but it takes me elsewhere at times as well. That's detective work, Miss Trent, it's not just confined to one place.”

Jack got the attention of the barman and hailed him over.

“Detective Slade, she's not here yet I'm afraid. Would you like a drink while you wait?”

Jack nodded. “Thanks, I'll take a water, ice and lemon.”

The barman nodded and quickly brought it back as Jack spoke again. “And another of what she's having,” he said.

A moment later Jessie was presented with another glass of wine.

“So, Jack said, “are you on vacation?”

“Not really, but it feels like it being away from Burgess. I've been talking to colleges, planning my move later this year.”

“Ah, your return to criminal psychology.”

Jessie nodded.

“And you're moving to LA?”

She nodded again. “I wanted to stay close to home, to my friends, but also get away, you know.”

“I do. LA's a great city. I'm sure you'll love studying here.”

“Do you know the place?”

Jack nodded, taking a sip of his ice water. “I grew up here, studied here, worked here, all until I was shipped off to Burgess a year or so ago.”

“Shipped off? That's not a nice way of putting it!” Jessie laughed.

“Well, it's one thing going from Burgess to LA, and another completely when it's the other way around. I guess growing up here I never expected to find myself working as a detective in a small town on the fringes of the state.”

Jessie took a sip of wine, her eyes meeting his. “I guess things happen to all of us that we're not expecting. I can tell you I never expected to find myself back in Burgess after leaving for college either.”

They kept their eyes on one another as they sipped their drinks, the two of them dragged back to the town against their desires.

The door sounded behind and Jack quickly turned his head, his eyes snatched from Jessie's and focusing on the new entrant.

“Not who you're waiting for?” Jessie asked, seeing the look in his eyes. “Are you here because of Taylor? She worked here, didn't she?”

“I have a few questions I need to ask, yes. In fact, perhaps you can help me.”

Jessie put her glass of wine down on the bar and sat up slightly straighter. “Anything I can do to help,” she said.

Jack straightened up himself and turned his entire body to face her, a sudden seriousness to him.

“Did Taylor have a boyfriend?” he asked, his eyes inquisitive and stern.

Jessie shook her head. “Not to my knowledge. I don't know about round here though. Don't you know this already?”

“I've been told she didn't,” Jack said, nodding, “but some people know things that others don't. So no boyfriend. How about a girlfriend?”

Jessie's eyes crunched up slightly, her brow furrowing. “Are you asking if Taylor was a lesbian?”

Jack nodded, his eyes still stuck to hers.

“No, well, I don't think so anyway. I guess she could have been. Why is that relevant anyway?”

Jack took a deep breath. “I trust you Miss Trent, and I don't believe you'll go blabbering to your friends about anything I ask, or tell you.”

“Of course not. I only want to help, if I can.”

Jack looked around the bar, which was quiet at this time of the afternoon. The barman stood at the other end, talking with a customer who appeared to be a friend, probably a local who came in here regularly.

“I believe that this killer is hunting lesbians,” Jack said quietly. “A new body has been discovered, close to where Taylor was found. I believe that they were killed together, on the same night.”

“How do you know that?” Jessie said, her eyes growing in intensity.

“Because the autopsy has suggested it, and the murder has all the markings of the killer's MO.”

“But these other girls who have been killed? Were they lesbians too?”

Jack leaned back, his eyes darting around. “Not to my knowledge, but I don't think that matters. It's what he
believes
, it's what he
sees
. Two women, together, holding hands, arms around each other. He's killing these girls because he
thinks
they're sexually interested in each other, not because they actually are.”

Jessie's mind clicked into gear. “So you think that he has a thing against homosexuals? Perhaps relating to a childhood event, some sort of trauma?”

“Precisely Miss Trent. Perhaps a broken family on account of his mother's homosexualilty. There's a reason he's hunting these women in pairs, and there's a reason he's targeting brunettes with blue eyes.”

“You think he's seeing his mother?”

“It's just a theory,” Jack said nodding. “You know better than most that serial killers like this commonly suffer from trauma from childhood events. Watching a father beating a mother. Suffering sexual abuse. Witnessing and experiencing such acts as a child can shape a terrible future, lead them to commit horrific crimes.”

Jessie knew all about what Jack was talking about. The criminal mind was a complicated minefield, one she'd stepped into before, if only through the pages of her textbooks.

“So...you think he saw Taylor with another girl, this new victim?”

“I do. She was a young girl, 19 only. It looks like he'll have seen them together, got them into his car, and taken them out to Lancer's Point to dump their bodies.”

Jack noticed the flinch in Jessie's eyes as he spoke. It slipped his mind that he was speaking of her friend, that he was speaking to a civilian, someone unconnected to the case.

“I apologize if I'm being too blunt,” he said.

“No, no, not at all,” said Jessie quickly. “Please, I want to know. I want to help. So...why would he go out there, to get rid of the bodies?”

Jack paused again before speaking once more, the look in Jessie's eyes compelling him to continue: an eager look, thirsty to hear more.

“Because it's remote,” he said. “As far as I know nobody ever really goes out there.”

“Oh that's true. I've lived over there my whole life and you never hear of people going there. Some of the old timers in town say it's cursed land. They say that this killer's been awoken by the extreme heat, that this always happens when the weather turns like this.”

“And you believe them?”

Jessie shook her head, laughing ironically. “Of course not. I believe in reason and logic, not urban legends. It's just one of those stories that gets passed down through generations, something to scare kids. God knows who made it up.”

Jack reached again for his drink, looking down the glass at Jessie as he took a long sip. “You know, I really shouldn't be telling you any of this,” he said.

“So...why are you?”

Jack shook his head and brushed his hand through his dark hair. “I don't know. I trust you won't tell anyone and...I think you deserve to know. I want you to know.”

“But why me?”

“Because you're smart, because you were Taylor's friend. And, well, I want you to really know what's out there. You've got dark hair, a slim build, blue eyes. You need to be careful Miss Trent. Don't go out after dark, always lock your doors and double check them at night. Do you have a gun?”

Jessie shook her head, Jack's sudden caution and words of advice causing her pulse to rise.

“It might be an idea to get one. Keep something by your bed, a weapon, something you can get hold of quickly in case you need to. And your phone, keep it close. Is there a lock to your bedroom door?”

Jessie shook her head again, just listening now.

“Install one. Lock it at night, OK. And never, ever let anyone in after dark, unless you're 100% sure they're safe and you know them.”

Jack fell silent, once more reaching for his water and finishing it off as his eyes drifted again to the entrance.

“But this killer. You say he's killing in pairs, and he's going after girls coming out of bars, drunk girls. So...I won't go out, I'll stay in at night, I won't drink. Anyway, no one's going out any more, everyone's too scared.”

“Precisely,” Jack said, his eyes swinging back to Jessie's, dark and intense. “His prey are thinning on the streets. His opportunities are becoming limited. He may just change his tactics now, so be careful in your home, OK?”

“I will. I read the warning in the paper, everyone did. We all know what to do to be safe. Anyway, with all the extra cops around town, he might leave? Maybe go to another town, or another county or state even. If he's doing what you say he's doing, if he's going to continue what he's been doing so far, what's to say he won't leave and go elsewhere?”

Jack's eyes were growing ever more grave now, his mind ticking over. This killer, this butcher, was all he thought about. It occupied his thoughts from dawn until dusk, creeping in while he was driving, preparing his dinner, listening to the radio. It even invaded his mind as he slept, images of the bodies he'd seen, of the killer, tall and dark and cold, mutilating them, cutting at their hair, stabbing at their eyes. His mind had little rest, little time for anything else.

“I don't think he'll go anywhere,” he said after a pause. “I think that Burgess is his hunting ground, a town he knows, somewhere important to him. He'll kill people from there, and only there.”

“In that case,” said Jessie, “perhaps I'll just stay in LA now.”

Jack laughed, the tension cut between them and slowly dissipating. “When is that the new college year stars?” he joked, smiling.

“Not soon enough,” Jessie said. “I'll probably be learning about this killer as a case study in a year or two, getting inside his mind. That's as soon as you catch him.”

“Right,” said Jack, his tone lacking in the confidence he'd held before.

For him, the pressure was mounting, coming at him from all angles. From his superiors, from the media, and from the people in the town. Everyone was breathing down his neck, and he wasn't willing to let them down. It was his responsibility to catch this guy, to out-think him.

The problem was, he had to try to do it before anyone else got killed. And that's just where his confidence began to wane.

A bing at the door caused Jack to swing his head back round to the entrance, this time his eyes growing with recognition as he saw the girl he'd come to interview. He was there to find out whether Taylor had left with someone the last night she'd been seen, and this girl was the one who'd tell him. Frankly, Jack already knew the answer.

“I'm sorry Miss Trent, but I need to get back to work,” he said, his eyes quickly returning to hers. “And please, keep yourself safe when you return home.”

Jessie smiled and nodded. “I will. And you can call me Jessie. I think we've reached a first name basis by now.”

Jack smiled back at her as he stepped off his stool.

“I think you're right, Jessie. I'm sure we'll see each other again, and when we do, drop the 'detective' and call me Jack.”

He reached for his card and pulled it from his jacket breast pocket. “And if you ever have information for me, or if you need my help with something, please call me. My personal cell is scribbled on the back.”