Kentucky Murders: A Small Town Murder Mystery (23 page)

Zack hurried back into the room. He got on his hands and knees and looked under the bed.  He went to the closet, opened it and dug around under all the clothes and blankets. He looked for an attic door but didn’t find one.

He rushed out of the room and checked each of the other rooms on the second floor. Nothing, just like that idiot had said. Then, standing at the back window of one of the bedrooms, he looked out at the playhouse in the backyard.

He ran down the stairs two at a time and found his way through the kitchen to the back.  He hurried across the lawn to the tiny plastic house that stood about waist high. Leaning down he looked inside the small doorway. A little girl sat shaking, hunched in the corner.  Her knees were pulled tight to her chest and her arms were clenched around them. She was wrapped in a large pink t-shirt. Her huge, terrified eyes stared up at Zack.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m a police officer. I’m here to help you.”

She flinched as Zack reached out for her.

Chapter 7

Kate lay awake in the dark bedroom wondering where Zack was and when he would finally return home. She looked over at the clock for the twentieth time: 3:34. Then she heard a car approaching the house.

She swung her legs off the bed and stood. Still tying the belt on her robe, she walked down the hallway and leaned into Jimmy’s room as she passed by. His little snores rose from the bundle of bedspread, under which he was curled out of sight. She continued along the hallway and descended the steps leading down to the front door. She reached and opened it. Zack was coming up the sidewalk.

Maybe she had been too hard on him. Sure he’d gotten drunk after quitting alcohol for years. Sure had needed someone to drive him home and could hardly walk when he’d entered the house. But he’d just been elected sheriff. Maybe she should cut him some slack. But then she remembered why he had quit drinking…

“Zack?”

“Hi. What are you doing up? I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

Kate held the door open as Zack slipped inside the house. He didn’t attempt a hug, but made his way into the living room and flopped onto the couch.  “I’m exhausted.”

She wanted to say,
if you weren’t hung over…
but resisted. She sat down next to him. “What happened … with the case?”

“A husband and wife were murdered.”

“My God!”

“Yeah, and they have a little girl who survived by hiding.”

“Really? Where is she now?”

“One of your coworkers picked her up and took her to your office.”

Kate had been working at the social services office for the past six months.

“How is she?”

“She seems fine physically. But as far as I know she hasn’t said a word.”

“Well, I guess I’ll get to meet her when I go to work in the morning. Poor thing.”

The social services office had one guard and one night shift orderly. Four rooms served as temporary lodging for clients until they found more permanent places to stay. Their tenets were often battered spouses and children, or as in this case, children who lose their parents to events like late-night car accidents. This was their first murder, as far as Kate knew.

After a few minutes of sitting quietly, Kate and Zack went upstairs.

“Do I get to sleep in our room?”

“Are you going to stop drinking?” When he nodded she said, “Fine. But I’m still pissed at you. We’ll talk about it later.”

Zack undressed. “I just have to get a nap and then go back out to the scene at first light.” He set the bedside alarm for an hour later and climbed onto the bed.

Slipping around to her side of the bed, Kate joined him. “Zack, are you all right? I don’t like it when you drink, and now look at what you have to deal with.” She curled up behind him and spooned with him. “Maybe being sheriff is too much pressure.”

Facing away from her, he spoke, “You could have mentioned your doubts months ago. It’s a little late now.”

She didn’t speak.

Finally he continued. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

She felt his sigh.

“And that poor, innocent little girl. She’s…she’s all alone now. Kate, I don’t know, you may be right. Maybe I’m in over my head.”

Kate waited for him to continue. He didn’t. “Don’t worry. You’ll get through this.”

Then Kate felt a tug on the blanket and looked over the edge of the bed.

“Mommy?”

“Jimmy?”

“Can I sleep with you?”

She lifted the covers. “Come on.”

He jumped up, climbed over her and in between her and Zack, all in one swift motion.

Zack rolled over and faced his son and wife. “Hi, little buddy.” He smiled, put his arm over them, and closed his eyes.

---

As the sun broke above the treetops Zack stood looking at the splintered doorjamb of the back kitchen door. They had entered here but left no foot or fingerprints behind. They had been very careful to wipe their feet and wear gloves. This wasn’t a couple of dumb junkie burglars stumbling across a home to rip off; although, they had emptied a jewelry box and all the cash from the man’s wallet and the woman’s purse. They may have taken other valuables, too, but an expensive stereo and television still stood in the living room. It appeared they’d only taken small items because they were in a hurry.
And petty burglars don’t normally execute their victims, or draw swastikas in blood on the wall above their bodies
, Zack thought.

“I’m going to check out the backyard, sheriff,” said Rachel. “They probably came from the woods across the field by looking at the dirt they rubbed off on the door mat out back. There should be footprints somewhere.” She nodded and went out the back door.

One side of the kitchen served as an informal dining area.  Zack pulled out and sat in one of the wooden chairs tucked under the small table. He took out his notepad and began going back over his notes. He wanted to make sure he hadn’t forgotten any details. He would spend hours later going over these notes and the photos Rachel had taken. These killers were good, but no crime was perfect. He’d learned that in his college criminal investigation classes and during his two years as a deputy on the force. He had investigated burglaries, but this was his first murder investigation. Unless you counted the murder of his friend, Max, six years earlier, when he’d first come to Michaeltown. But he wasn’t a cop then. He felt vaguely guilty - he hadn’t thought of Max in years.

“Sheriff!”

He heard Rachel calling to him from outside and he exited the back door to find her crouched down at the corner of the house.

“Bingo,” she said, pointing to a patch of dirt. “I’ve got two sets of boot prints. I’ll make casts of them. You find these boots and you’ll have your killers.”

Great
, thought Zack.
I’ll put out an APB for boots.

---

Kate slowly opened her eyes and blinked. Yellowish early morning light filtered through the half open bedroom blinds. She turned over and found the rest of the bed empty.

Jumping out of bed she rushed down the hallway. As she approached Jimmy’s bedroom, she heard his T.V.

She looked into her child’s room and saw Jimmy sitting on his bed.  Dozens of toy soldiers were poised for battle on the cloth battlefield before him. His T.V. played unnoticed in the background.

“Good morning.”

“Hi, Mommy. Can I eat now? I’m starving.”

“Come on.” Then Kate remembered that Zack had said he would be getting back to work at sunrise. She hadn’t even noticed him getting up.

“Captain Crunch here I come!”

As they went downstairs, Kate thought about Zack and their future.

Chapter 8

The lights in the cellblock had been extinguished twenty minutes earlier. Lee lay in his bunk, listening. His eyes strained to see movement in the shadows outside his cell bars. Everything seemed to be moving in the low light, but nothing actually was. At least he hoped . . .

He’d arrived at Kentucky State Penitentiary that day and he knew he was new meat on the cellblock. A moan came from somewhere a few cells away. He couldn’t tell if it was a moan of pain or pleasure.

The two hundred fifty pound, tattooed, skin headed hulk he’d drawn as a cell mate lay snoring in the lower bunk below him. Maybe he would make it through his fist night in prison without getting raped---as long as he didn’t sleep.

“Cherry, boy,” came a low call from another cell. “Fresh meat.” Voices bounced from the metal and concrete, losing their sense of direction and making it impossible to tell where they were coming from. “We’re gonna get you, boy.” Low, menacing laughter came from somewhere.

Lee sat up and looked out through the bars and into the dimly lit cellblock.

“You’re gonna squeal like a pig,” came from some other direction. More muted laughing erupted from another unseen cell. “Gonna pop that cherry.”

Lee lay back and wondered if he would ever really sleep again.

The sound of birds singing outside his window awoke him. He quickly rolled to a sitting position at the edge of the bed. He rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. He scanned the bedroom, safe in his house, in his bed. No one was trying to rape him and the cops hadn’t arrived during the night to arrest him for murder. Everything was cool, quiet, and normal.

Then he thought about last night. Normal? He wondered if things would ever be normal again. He’d slaughtered two people like animals. Why? For money? His ex-wife was to blame for all of this. If not for her, he would never have killed her loser boyfriend, and he wouldn’t have gone to prison. Living in prison, among those immoral animals, had turned him into one, or had at least given him the ability to become one when he was backed into a corner. Now his only goal was survival for himself and his daughter. All of his options had been stripped away from him. Now there was no way to get back a normal life, unless he could finish this job and go away to a place where no one knew him or his little girl. His only chance was to start fresh.

He got up and went into the kitchen, removed a Coke from the refrigerator, and popped the top. He thought about his next move.  He had to find that girl. He knew the place where the news would have traveled to by now. After all, even with the new subdivisions sprouting up near the freeway and all the strangers driving around in their BMWs and Cadillacs, this was still a small town. And the diner was still the place you went to find out the latest gossip from the locals. They were sure to be discussing the murders and someone would know what had happened to the girl. And he was hungry anyway.  He flipped on the coffee pot, went to the bathroom, and jumped into the shower.

Fifteen minutes later he stood wearing a pair of boxer shorts in the kitchen. He needed more caffeine after that restless night of sleep. The hot shower had helped, but the memories that kept him awake every night wouldn’t allow him to ever rest peacefully again.

He had to concentrate on getting the money, no matter what it took, so he and his daughter could start a new life. If they could escape to somewhere out west, maybe Vegas, they could take on new names and start over; he would make sure she had a chance at a better life. He sat back in his recliner with a cup of coffee and pictured her waiting for him to pick her up from school. She would smile as he drove up. Then he saw her playing sports. Maybe she would make the girls basketball team. He would have to start teaching her soon. He had been a pretty good ballplayer himself in school. She would have a chance at a life, but not if that bitch mother of hers had anything to say about it. Lee vowed to set her free, even if more people had to die to make it happen.

He stood and finished the last of his coffee. Setting the cup on the countertop, he went toward the bedroom at the back of the trailer to get dressed.

Chapter 9

At 8:15 Lee entered the diner and took a seat on a stool along the right side of the counter. Millie, who’d worked there forever, came towards him with a coffee pot in her hand. Bags hung under her eyes and the stale stench of Marlboros assailed him. She smiled with tobacco stained teeth. She reminded Lee of his dead mother.

He reached up and turned over the coffee cup

She filled his cup. “What can I get for you, honey?”

“I’ll take a western omelet, hash browns and keep the coffee coming.”

“It’ll be right up.”

Lee scanned the diner. A mother, father and a couple kids sat in a booth. Three old men sat along the counter down from him. A teenage boy and girl occupied one of the tables and an old lady sat alone in another booth.

“You hear about the murders, son?” asked the old coot next to Lee.

“Murders?” Lee responded, feigning disbelief.

“Yeah, we were just talking about it. That old farm out on Riker’s Road. Whole damn police force’s out there. ‘bout time they start earning our tax dollars”