The River Runs Dry (18 page)

Further research into police and psych reports painted a picture of a boy who no one wanted to deal with. He wasn't given proper care, his case wasn't handled properly by a town who clearly wanted to forget it had all happened. He was shipped off to Texas and forgotten, and now his ghost had come back to haunt them.

Jack sat back in his chair, his largely ineffectual fan still whirring in the corner, and pulled a bottle of whiskey from his bottom drawer, filling a glass and setting it on the desk beside him.

This case had caused him to start smoking already; now he was drinking on the job too. It was a steady decline for a young man who always thought of himself as being as clean as a whistle. He could see why so many of the older detectives found themselves turning to alcohol. After years in this sort of job, you needed a way to let your hair down and relax.

His father had been his model growing up though; his hero. He was the guy running around town catching the bad guys, an old school detective who kept his integrity until the end.

But that end hadn't been a happy one. Jack was only a boy when his father slowly dropped into decline. First he lost his passion for his job, then the job itself was taken from him. After that his health went into decline, both physically and mentally. It was a tragic fall from grace for a man who'd done so much to keep the city safe.

But one mistake had changed all that, a mistake that he could never get over. He arrested the wrong man when a serial killer had been on the prowl. The man had been convicted and sentenced to death. It wasn't until the people started dying in another state that Jack's father began to realize that he'd got the wrong guy.

The killer was caught and admitted to the murders that the other guy had been executed for. Michael Slade had been a hero of the city but he couldn't live with what he'd done. He'd sent an innocent man to the chair, and it ate him up inside. The real killer had gone on to kill 4 other women. Those deaths were also on his head.

He ended his career in shame, a shadow of the man he was. His health deteriorated from there as he turned to the bottle, the stress of everything he'd been through tearing him up inside.

It was one of Jack's abiding memories from his youth, seeing his dad slide into depression and, as the years went by, dementia. He swore to himself then that he'd never make such a mistake, that he'd do his father proud, their family name proud, and continue the great work that Michael Slade had done.

This case, it was his opportunity to exorcise that ghost once and for all. And now Jack was closing in on it....

Knock knock knock.

The sudden sound sucked Jack right out of his memory bank and his eyes up to the door.

Without waiting for an answer, Carla opened the door, a serious tone to her voice as she spoke.

“I've got Miss Trent here Jack, she says she needs to see you urgently.”

Jack stood and paced quickly round to the front of the desk, his eyes growing with concern.

“What's going on? Has something happened to her?”

Carla shook her head. “Not yet. I think you'd better speak to her alone.”

Jack stood in the center of his office as Carla stepped back and turned to look down the corridor. A moment later Jessie walked past the window and in through the door, a distressed look dominating her face.

Carla turned and walked out, shutting the door quietly behind her, as Jack stepped forward. His voice was gentle, worried, as he looked down into Jessie's eyes.

“What's wrong Jessie?”

Jessie didn't say anything, but reached down into her handbag and pulled out a folded letter. She passed it to Jack, who opened it up and scanned the words.

“This was sent to your home?” he asked calmly.

Jessie nodded.

“Today?”

She nodded again.

“It...it might be a prank,” she said nervously. “There are some guys I know who might do this.”

Jack's eyes shot up to hers. “Guys? What guys?”

“I don't know Jack....just friends, you know, stupid boys being stupid boys.”

“Tell me their names. I'll have Carla go talk to them.”

“But...”

“We have to cover all bases Jessie. If it is a prank, we need to know.”

Jessie's eyes fell to the floor, her voice low and quiet. “This isn't a prank. I know that really.”

“Here,” Jack said, “sit down.”

He guided her towards a chair before moving back to his desk and filling another glass of whiskey.

“Drink this, it'll make you feel better,” he said, handing her the drink.

She took it as he pulled a chair up to sit in front of her, leaning forward so that they were close. She sat, slightly hunched and tense, the glass in her hands.

“I know it's the killer Jack. You know that, and I know that.”

Jack looked back over the letter, his eyes running over the handwriting. “It looks put on,” he said. “The handwriting looks unnatural, like he's purposely trying to hide his own style.”

“Is that surprising?” asked Jessie. “He's always been good at covering his tracks so far. He's not going to take any chances.”

“Then what is this if it's not taking a chance? He's announced he's going to kill you Jessie, you and Darcia. He can't expect to pull that off. It's completely against the way he normally behaves.”

“You're right. It makes no sense. He's been picking girl's at random so far, hasn't he? Why would he suddenly tell me he's going to kill me?”

Jack eye's tightened a touch. “That's not entirely true,” he said. “I found tire tracks for an SUV near the house where Sarah O'Reilly and Leanne Graves were attacked. There were boot prints out the back of the house, leading down the road to the car. It was parked down an alleyway just down the street from the house.”

“So you don't think these killings are random? You think he already parked his car there, that he knew who his victims would be?”

Jack nodded slowly as he spoke. “I think he does more homework than he'd have us think. I think he knows the house, he knows the layout, he knows that they'll be no one else at home. That's why he attacked Leanne Graves and Sarah O'Reilly when Mr Graves was away. That's why he knew that Claire Marshall and Tara Bradford were home alone that night, that there was nobody else in the house.”

“And you think that these girls are linked somehow? Because I don't know any of those girls....except Taylor.”

“No, I don't think there's a link, only that all the victims are brunettes with blue eyes. He didn't kill Claire Marshall because she didn't fit his exact criteria. But I believe he knows the town, he knows the people. He picks his targets, does his homework, and then acts upon it. He's meticulous and careful, but this....I don't know, it's odd, it's out of character.”

Jack looked again at the note.
Why would he announce the victims. It doesn't make sense.

“It could be a decoy,” said Jessie, a slight hope in her voice. “Maybe he's just toying with me, with you? Maybe it's a new challenge.”

Jack nodded. “Could be. When he went to kill Leanne Graves in hospital he showed us he was willing to take risks. This could be his way of raising the stakes even further.”

“It's not uncommon. Some serial killers like the limelight. They thrive on it, creating panic. It's part of the thrill.”

“Whatever it is, I want you safe Jessie. Whether he goes through with the threat or not, even it's just a prank, we need to keep you under protection for now. You can't go back to that house on your own, OK.”

“Well, where then?”

“You can stay here, here in the department, for a night or two at least. We have beds in the cells, or you can sleep here on my sofa. There are always cops on duty here, you'll be completely secure.”

“And Darcia?”

“I'll have an officer sent over to her home...”

“But that didn't help Leanne Graves,” Jessie cut in.

“That was different. She'll be safe, you can trust me. We can assign two cops to her, just to be sure.”

Jessie smiled. “Thank you Jack. I'm glad you came into my diner all those weeks back. I wouldn't have known where to turn tonight otherwise.”

Jack smiled back. “You'd have done the same thing,” he said. “I'd still have been here to help.”

A moment passed as they locked eyes with each other, a silence descending into the room. In spite of everything, Jessie felt safe in Jack's presence. He was always in control, always thinking, always working things through in his mind. As long as she was here with him, she'd be safe.

But he wasn't staying. He couldn't stay.

Jack stood now, quickly glancing down at his watch. He grimaced slightly as he saw the time. It was getting away from him fast.

“Jessie...I have to go.”

Jessie looked up quickly. “Go? Where?”

“I'm flying to Texas to follow a lead. I'm closing in on him Jessie...but I need to go.”

“Well let me come with you. I can help, I can. Please, don't leave me here alone, not now.”

“Look, I'll ask Carla to stay here for the night as well. You can trust her, I'd trust her with my life.”

“Please Jack, just let me come as well. I want to help. I can help you work this out.”

Jack stared at her, a desperation in her voice, in her eyes. He could feel the fear inside her now, radiating out. He couldn't just leave her here, he couldn't do that to her. He felt obliged to protect her now, to see that she was OK, to bring the Butcher down before he did any more harm. And now Jessie was his target.

If Trey Hunter was to get her, he'd have to through Jack first.

“Do you have any spare clothes with you?” Jack asked suddenly after a pause.

A smile grew on Jessie's face as she shook her head.

“Right. I'll talk to Carla, see if she's got anything in her locker. Stay here, we're leaving in five.”

…

An SUV sat parked down the street from the police department. It was black, hidden in the shadows under a broken street lamp. There looked to be no one inside, but there was.
He
was there.

A smile crossed his face as he lay low in the car, peering over the front wheel and up towards the front door of the police department ahead. A car was parked awkwardly outside, up against the sidewalk. He'd followed it from the south, casually cruising behind at a distance. He didn't need to stay close, he knew exactly where they were going.

He'd watched the girl jump out of the car and straight inside the building. That was about 20 minutes ago now. Now he was watching for her to come out again, but it wasn't what he expected. If she was smart, if that detective was smart, they'd keep her hidden away.

But that won't stop me. That girl, she's the one I want the most.

He watched from the shadows, his eyes staring at the entrance. He could wait. He had all the time in the world.

Then, suddenly, the detective stepped out, the girl, Jessie, next to him. He carried a small bag with him and they walked quickly, pacing across the road and into the detective's car. The man's eyes grew with interest.

Now where are you going?

He thought of following but that detective, he was smarter than he thought. It wasn't worth it, and they were probably going to his apartment anyway. Maybe they were fucking.
Yeah, the bitch was probably fucking him.

The car disappeared from view after a few moments, but his eyes were quickly drawn back to the entrance. A cop came out, a girl cop, and stepped into Jessie's car. Then it moved, reversing round the corner and out of sight. A minute later the girl cop re-appeared, walking back through and into the building.

He knew what was going on. Her car was being moved to the car park at the back. Clearly, this Jessie girl wasn't planning on using it for a while.

He laughed to himself.
That note must really have fucked her up. She's scared out of her life. And she should be.

He carried on watching, watching and waiting. Then the door opened again, and two officers stepped out once more. They looked tired, another long day coming to a close. But he doubted it was done, and he'd follow them to make sure.

They drove north for a few minutes, and he casually followed behind. It didn't take long, and he knew just where they were going anyway. He stayed behind, in the shadows, always in the shadows, and stopped down the street as the police car pulled up on Mountain's Way Road, just outside number 8.

He watched on as the cops stepped out of the car and walked towards the door. They knocked, standing there for a moment before a man appeared. They spoke for a minute then walked in, shutting the door behind them.

Dark eyes continued to burn from behind the wheel of the black SUV down the street, still watching, still waiting. This was a game now for him, and he was introducing more players.

After a few minutes the door to the house opened once more and the two cops walked back out. They stepped into their car, but it didn't roar to life. It just sat there, motionless, as the cops began their overnight vigil.

A smile ran over the man's face, a laugh threatening to rumble up through his throat. These cops were so easily to manipulate, these people so easy to scare. Tonight it would be time to put more fear in them. 

Chapter 21

The morning air was warm and dry as Jack walked up the dirt track towards a small ranch house, set amid a clearing in a patch of wood a few miles outside of the town of Navasota. It was early, the glint of morning dew still shining in the grass and dripping lightly from the swaying leaves around him.

Behind him he'd left his hire car, with Jessie sitting inside. They'd been traveling all night, just to reach this point, driving, flying, and then driving some more. Both were tired, but there was a steeliness to Jack right now. He had finally gotten a sniff of his prey. Now he'd become the hunter.

He walked slowly towards the doorstep, his eyes twitching from side to side, taking in his surroundings. The ranch house looked slightly dilapidated from the outside, with several cracked windows along the front, large chips in the wooden foundations, and an excess overgrowth of shrubbery creeping inexorably up the walls.