The Devil's Water: Scenic City Murder Series #1 (3 page)

“In case you didn’t know, that’s not good news.” She added as she brought her fork up and took a big bite.

“Why is that?”

“Because” she said as she swallowed, “your perp could very well be a brilliant psychopath.”

CHAPTER 5

Carol Shipley was standing in the middle of a grassy field watching the black clouds begin to gather. It was late in the evening. A flash of lightning and she could see for miles out in front of her. The white farm house, which seemed so familiar, stood ahead in the distance. She began running to it. She knew she would be safe there. A large raindrop fell from the heavens and struck her on the nose. She had to run faster. A figure appeared on the front porch of the farm house and began calling to her.

Faster Faster!

White lightning, jagged across the sky and then a thunderous boom made Carol almost lose her balance and tumble.

“Carol, get back here!” The figure on the porch was yelling just as the heavens opened up and poured down rain.

She was almost there. Just a little more until she was on the porch. Her breath was heavy in her chest and she felt as if her lungs would explode when she reached the steps of the old farmhouse and took them two at a time.

“Come here!” her grandmother said as she held out a towel to her granddaughter. “Get in this house Carrie! You like to scared me to death!”

Carol obeyed and heard the screen door screech shut as her grandmother followed in behind her. “What in the world were you thinkin’ Carrie?” her grandmother was saying as she took the towel from Carol and dried her hair for her.

Carol could hear the raindrops beating down on the tin roof. They sounded like hail pellets. “Now I want you to go in there and take off those wet clothes.” Her grandmother placed both of her hands on Carols’ shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. She motioned toward the bedroom.

“Yes, mamaw.”

Carol entered the dark bedroom and switched on the light. By the queen size bed, she saw a water bucket collecting drops falling from the ceiling.

Drip, drip, drip.

Carol walked over to the bucket and looked in. The water was accumulating fast. Perhaps a quarter of an inch of water had already fallen. She watched for a minute or two and turned back to the chest of drawers where her clothes were stored.

Drip, drip, drip.

“Mamaw!” she called as she pulled her dry shorts up to her waist.

Drip.

“Mamaw!” she called a little louder. No answer.

She walked out of the bedroom and looked around. Another flash of lightning and the power went out.

“Mamaw!”

Suddenly, Carol knew she was all alone in the dark. Mamaw wasn’t coming to save her. Mamaw died in 1975.

Drip, drip, drip.

Carol opened her eyes to complete darkness. She must’ve screamed out because she could hear him laughing. He was taunting her. He liked to do that.

She sat up and realized she was in the bathtub again. The water was still warm so she figured she couldn’t have been there long. Not like sometimes before.

Drip.

She placed her foot in under the faucet and felt a droplet hit her toe. She tried to lean up and touch the faucet but her head felt so heavy and her muscles were aching. Finally, she laid back and slid down in the water.

He was laughing again. Carol looked around her but could see nothing. It was pitch black. She remembered his night vision goggles. He had worn them before as he was now.

Carol knew she had been violated. It had happened over and over so much that somewhere along the way she lost count. Sometimes she wouldn’t even be conscious when he raped her. He always made sure, though, that she had the medicine. Once he gave her the medicine she would pass out and not remember anything.

Drip.

Now, she was back in an old familiar place. He always made her soak in the tub after he was done with her. Then he would take her back to her room and tie her up again. Carol tried to turn her head but the muscles in her neck ached so badly she couldn’t. The pitch black had scared her once upon a time but now it was more like an old trusted friend. At least the darkness was something she could count on.

“Get up.” She heard him whisper in her ear. He had to have been just inches from her.

Carol felt a cold calloused hand grab her by the bicep and give her a tug. Suddenly, she was on her feet standing in the water. He laughed again as she almost fell. She stood in the tub dripping for at least two minutes before she felt his hand on her shoulder pulling her toward him. She stepped out of the tub and heard the squeak of the bathroom door opening as he pushed her outside.

It was still pitch black. Somewhere above her she could hear Janis Joplin singing about being busted flat in Baton Rouge. The music would go on and on. Day and night he played the music. Sometimes, Carol would scream begging for someone to help. Scream until she could taste blood in the back of her throat. No one ever came. Still, the music would play and play and play.

Down the corridor Carol walked. She could feel his presence. He was right behind her. Carol counted off the twenty two steps to her room. She knew them all too well. She crawled up on the bed and felt his hands on her arms and legs. He secured them in cuffs which were tied to chains and fastened to the four corners of the bed. With that, he was gone. Carol heard the bedroom door open and shut. Then, she was once again left in the black empty space that had been her room for four weeks.

CHAPTER 6

Tasha Yoder was sitting at Malones drinking a gin and tonic and chatting up a potential date for the night. The guy was gorgeous. Black hair, a tan and about 6’3” inches tall. When he smiled, his teeth were pearly white. His name was Billy and Tasha figured that he was right around her age judging by the light wrinkles around his eyes. Billy was in the process of telling Tasha what he did for a living when her cell phone went off. She checked the number and knew it was Clutch. Damn.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” Tasha said as she pressed the send button and turned her back to Billy.

“Yeah.” She answered, perhaps a bit harshly.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Sorta. What’s up?”

“The ME just called with results from Macy Garcia. No DNA. That’s the bad part.”

“And?”

“And they found a drug called Fentanyl in her system.”

“What the hell is that?” she asked, turning briefly and seeing that Billy was still there.

“It’s like morphine. At least somewhat. It’s more powerful and, when administered it can pretty much knock you out. I think this is how he incapacitates his victims.”

“How long are its effects? I mean, how long would someone be out?” Tasha asked as she turned to see that Billy was talking to another lady sitting at the bar.

“Anywhere from 30 to 60 minutes after an IV dose.” Clutch answered. “Look, either this guy has some sort of experience in the medical field or maybe he’s an addict. The ME said Fentanyl is very addictive. In large doses it can kill you. Coming off it can kill you. This guy knows what he’s doing.”

“I don’t think our guy is addicted. He’s been way too clever and his actions haven’t smacked of bad judgment or desperation the way an addicts would.” Tasha reasoned.

“Well, Fentanyl is a schedule 2 drug, I looked it up. I think if he’s not just outright killing his vics, he’s poisoning them to death in order to do what he wants with them.” Mcclutcheon said. “Somewhere, Monica Balzer and Carol Shipley are dying and God only knows who else. We’ve got to get to them.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about ‘who else’, Clutch.” Tasha interrupted.

“Why?”

“Because this perp is just starting. He’s getting a taste of it and he enjoys it but he’s still just starting out.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Mclutcheon asked incredulously.

“Because he’s taken women from the same apartment complex for one. For two, I’ve worked a hell of a lot of these cases.”

Tasha reached for her pack of smokes with one hand and brought the gin and tonic up to her lips with the other. She took a long hard swallow. It still burned a little going down and she didn’t like that sensation. She knew she would drink until it didn’t burn anymore.

“Well, what next?” Clutch asked.

“We wait. That’s the only card we can play and he’ll strike soon enough. He’s made it very clear that he will kill his victims.”

“I guess blood is in the water and the shark is circling.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Tasha returned. She looked over her shoulder. Billy and the woman he had been talking to were gone. She took a deep draw off her cigarette and inhaled. She held up one finger and motioned the bartender before finishing off the last of her drink.

“Listen, I’ll talk to you later. Okay?”

Tasha signed off with Mclutcheon and took a sip of her fresh drink. She watched as a bank of smoke floated through the air. Almost everyone at the bar was smoking. She tried to ignore the fact that her eyes were so dry and irritated.

Somewhere behind her she heard someone break a rack of balls.
Oh, the sounds of a pool hall.

“Hey, stranger.”

Tasha turned and saw Billy standing right beside her.

“Well, where have you been?” She smiled.

He grinned back at her and, once again, she found herself gazing at his pearly white teeth.

“Doesn’t matter where I’ve been. It’s all about where I’m going.” He shoved a hand in the pocket of his jeans and his triceps bulged from the effort.

Tasha felt her face get hot and she took a sip of her drink.

 She glanced over at the bartender and held up her finger again.

“Check, please!”

“Your place or mine?” Billy asked.

Tasha slugged down the rest of her drink and handed the bartender some money.

“Well, that depends.” Tasha smiled and brushed a wisp of blonde hair off her brow. “I have all the booze you can drink but I don’t do breakfast.”

“Your place it is then.” Billy replied as he put his arm around her shoulder and walked her to the door.

CHAPTER 7

He didn’t fashion himself a creature of habit. He was wise enough to know that he couldn’t afford to be. It was 10pm as the dark blue Ford moved down I75 toward Missionary Ridge. He kept an eye on the speedometer. It simply wouldn’t do to have a cop pull him over at this point. Not with his precious cargo it wouldn’t. Golden Earrings “Radar Love” was playing on the radio. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music. He was feeling pumped. Music always had that effect on him.

As the sedan moved through the big curve of the ridge cut, the lights of downtown Chattanooga came into view. He watched the big tall street lamps whiz by as he accelerated ever so slightly, still keeping an eye on his speed. In no time, he was at his exit. The lights of downtown were well past him now and the black pitch of the night took over. He steered his car off the exit ramp and down a dark wooded road. A half a mile later, he slowed the sedan and rolled down the window. He smiled as he turned off his music. He was there.

He pulled the trunk release and got out of the car. In the moonlight he could see the dark water swirling on the banks of the Tennessee. The silence was interrupted only occasionally by the hoot of an owl. He was definitely alone. Opening the lid of the trunk, he saw that she was still laying face up. Her face was void of all expression and her eyes were lifeless and blank. He reached in and grunted as he lifted her out of the trunk and began the trek across the loose rocks to the bank of the Devil’s Water.

Once he reached his destination, he laid her down by a large oak tree and propped up the body. He stood back and admired his handiwork. In the moonlight, she looked as if she was watching the water pass by. He mused that she looked perfectly natural except, of course, for the fact that she was nude. He smiled and chuckled to himself. He watched her for a few minutes more but he knew he had to go. He couldn’t chance someone seeing him there. Satisfied with his work, he turned on his heel and left. That was the last time he would ever see Monica Balzer.

CHAPTER 8

Tasha Yoder was bored and irritable. She glanced at her watch and noticed that it was 3:15 in the afternoon. Two students remained in the classroom. Their heads were down as they worked diligently to finish their exams. Tasha hated exam days. Nothing to do but sit there and make sure none of them were cheating. She picked up the local paper which was sitting on her desk and flipped through the sports section. She had just finished reading an article about the Atlanta Braves when she felt a vibration at her waistline. She reached down and grabbed her phone.

“Yo.”

“Hey where are you?” Mclutcheon asked.

“Class.” She answered simply. “These two kids only have 15 minutes to wrap it up.”

Both of her students looked up at her in unison and smiled sheepishly. Tasha pointed at the clock on the wall and left the students to finish their essays. She walked out in the hall and closed the classroom door.

“What’s going on?”

Clutch let out an audible sigh before he began. “They found Monica Balzer early this morning. The ME has the body, of course, but I’m sure the results will be the same.”

“You mean the same as with Macy Garcia?”

“Yep.” Clutch answered. “Sick bastard posed her by a tree down near the Devil’s Water. You shoulda seen her. She was just sitting there and, I swear to God, she looked like she was just watching the river go by.”

“Okay, that’s one thing that’s different.” Tasha began.

“What’s that?”

“Macy Garcia was dumped at the Devil’s water. Her body was disposed of in the same way you or I might throw out a Hefty cinch sack.”

“So maybe he had more time to pose Balzer.”

“Nah. This guy is very calculated.” Tasha said. “He spent more time on Balzer because he cared more about her.”

“What are you talking about?” Clutch exclaimed. “He didn’t give a shit about either one of these women!”