Kentucky Murders: A Small Town Murder Mystery (30 page)

He reached down and picked her up. He needed to get away before the fire department and the cops arrived.

He slung her limp body over his shoulder as he exited through the back door of the house. He crossed the field, heading towards his car parked along the road.

---

As Zack drove out to Riker’s Road he remembered Tommy Ray and the events of six years earlier.

They moved through the thick underbrush, climbing over fallen tree trunks and around thorn bushes. Tommy kept jabbing the barrel of the shotgun into Zack’s back. Drops of sweat fell from Zack’s chin and stung his eyes. Finally, after about five minutes, they stepped into an open, grassy area about twenty feet across.

“Here,” said Tommy. “Stop here.”

Zack stopped and faced his captor.

“Start digging.”

He looked down and then back up at Tommy. “If you think I’m going to dig my own grave, you’re full --”

“Dig! Or I’ll blow your damn head off right now.”

Zack shook his head. This was it. He was about to die. This couldn’t be real. It had to be another dream. He desperately wished that he would wake up and find himself in his room at the hotel.

Zack’s mind snapped back to the present as he rounded a sharp curve in the road. Most of the information he had on this case now made sense, except for the girl. Why kidnap the girl? And why was there a fire at the farm? “God, I hope…” He couldn’t finish the sentence because he couldn’t bear to think that he had been too late to save her.

Chapter 23

Tina Simpson awoke in slow motion over what seemed like hours to her. The first time she only saw light and heard sounds; then everything went dark again. The second, or was it the third time, she struggled and finally forced her eyes fully open. She felt so weak, and she couldn’t move. Was she strapped to the bed? Why couldn’t she move her arms or legs? After a struggle she managed to move her head to one side. Machines beeped and flashed and a local police officer sat in a chair next to the window reading a paperback novel.

Tina moaned, which was the most she could manage, and the officer looked up, smiling.

“Well, look who’s back.” He came to the side of the bed and looked down at her.

He appeared to be in his mid-30s, dark hair, brown eyes. Tina thought she remembered seeing him around the police station.

Finally, she struggled to say, “Drink,” then “water.”

The policeman gave her a drink of water from a plastic cup then left the room to find a doctor or nurse.

After he’d left the room she managed to lift her head and look to one side, propping herself up on one elbow. Her left thigh was bandaged and an IV tube ran to a needle stuck in her wrist. She couldn’t really feel pain and figured she was heavily drugged which was probably why her body seemed so limp. In addition to the bandage around her leg, her head was also bandaged. She vaguely remembered being shot and falling back. She must have hit her head on the road when everything went black. Until now…

---

He drove along, watching the side of the road, searching for a particular dirt road that would take him into the woods. He knew the box factory was located about a half mile further, just around the curve up ahead. The road had to be, there it was. He slowed and turned off the main road. The sun had dropped below the horizon and darkness was quickly overtaking the daylight. Pulling up to the woods, his headlights illuminated the tunnel formed by tree branches. This road hadn’t been used in years and was now mostly overgrown. The grass was higher than the hood of his car and the tree branches and brush had almost closed over the hole into the forest. If he hadn’t known exactly where this old dirt road was located, he never would have been able to find it. He pulled forward and entered the darkness of the overgrown forest.

The girl lay unconscious on the seat next to him. He felt around and found her mouth. Her breaths were shallow but detectible. She was the bait he needed to draw out his most important victim.

He continued to drive along slowly, unable to see anything below the surface of the grass. Then with a loud thud the car jerked to a stop.

“Damn.” He pushed open his door, fighting against the resistance from the long grass. Outside, he waded around the front of the car to uncover the obstruction that had halted his progress. He probed with his foot at the front of the car and felt a log or fallen tree. Spreading the grass with his hands and using the headlight beams he found a tree trunk that had been lying there for several years. He kicked it and found the wood had rotted and was mostly soft. He worked his way back around and to the trunk of the car where he had a shovel and other tools.

---

Zack walked back toward his car as the volunteer firemen spayed water on the smoking embers of what used to be the barn. He had searched the house and surrounding area and had found nothing other than the killer’s truck that had been parked near the barn when it burned down. The tape over the back door had been torn down, indicating that someone had been inside the house.

The heat from the burning building had scorched the front end of the vehicle, peeling paint away, destroying any rubber or plastic, and melting the front tires.  They wouldn’t be able to search through what was left of the barn until morning. Although no one was saying it, everyone at the scene figured there would be at least the remains of one body in the barn’s ashes. The question was, would they find the little girl’s bones, too?

There were other questions. Had the killer taken his own life? And the girl’s? Why? After all the trouble he’d gone through, even killing his partner, it didn’t make sense that he would give up now. They wouldn’t know anything until a proper search of the destroyed building could be made in the morning.

The radio cracked to life. “Sheriff, come in. FBI reinforcements have arrived.”

---

Zack walked along the hospital corridor where he found a crowd had gathered in and around Tina Simpson’s room. She was awake and speaking with the group of three men and one woman who were all dressed in dark suits. Zack was surprised they weren’t wearing navy blue windbreaker jackets with eighteen inch white letters on their backs saying
FBI
.

He pushed his way through and saw Tina’s face light up with a smile when she noticed him.

“Sheriff, how’s the case going?”

He stepped next to her bed, “Haven’t caught him yet. But you shouldn’t worry about that now.”

“I’m okay. They say it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Just a lot of blood loss but only a few pellets hit my leg. The fall and this bump on the head is what put me out.” She reached back and touched her bandaged head. “I’ll be out of here in no time.”

“Excuse me, sheriff,” the oldest of the darkly clad crew interrupted. He was around 40, short hair, and looked former military. “We need to get the details of your case. There’s a waiting room down the hall. Do you mind?”

Zack looked down at Agent Simpson.

“Go ahead,” she said. “I told them what I knew.”

Zack nodded to her, reached out and touched her hand briefly, then turned to leave the room.  The agent, Jim Turner, followed.

Turner spent the next hour grilling Zack on every aspect of the case. Finally, he seemed to be satisfied, for now at least, and he allowed Zack to leave for home and a few hours of sleep. The agents took personally the attack on one of their own. One agent would stay with Tina while the other four would split up into two groups. One set would be waiting at the sheriff’s office in the morning while the other pair would be at the barn when the sun rose. They wanted to make sure they had enough dead bodies and no loose ends preventing them from closing this case. If there was any possibility that a suspect was still out there, these agents would be taking over where Zack and their wounded agent had left off.

Zack pulled into his driveway at about 11:00 pm. He was able to unlock the front door this time without the chain impeding his entry into the house.

The lone nightlight plugged into a wall socket in the living room dimly lit the first floor; a clock ticked; the fan from the central heating system hummed to life. He removed his gun and holster and locked it in the cabinet as usual.

Quietly, he climbed the stairs. Kate and Jimmy lay sleeping in the bed of the master bedroom. On her side, Kate’s arms encircled her son, protecting him. He snored gently.

Zack sat in an overstuffed chair near the bedroom window and looked at his family. He wondered again what was happening between him and Kate. He wanted to love her; he did love her. But … He stood and looked out the window at the street below. The moon was full
and bright. Deep black shadows surrounded the trees, cars, and other homes where the moonlight couldn’t penetrate.

“Zack?” Her soft voice came from close to him. He hadn’t heard her get out of bed. Then her arms gently slipped around him and he felt her warm, soft body against his back as she hugged him tightly.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Not really.”

He rotated in her arms until they faced each other.

“I was waiting for you. Seems like I’m doing that a lot lately.”

He held her tight. Her head lay on his shoulder. “Kate, it seems like, I don’t know. It seems like we haven’t been
together
in a long time.”

“You mean sex?”

“No, not that.” He chuckled softly. “Well, maybe that, too.” Now she laughed. “I mean our lives have been so busy that … that I miss you.”

“Me, too.”

“So you know what I mean.”

She looked up and kissed him gently. “I know. I want to be with you to talk, to hold each other like this, to make love. But then the day ends and I tell myself we’ll have time tomorrow. And … tomorrow turns into next week, then next month.”

“I love you, Kate.”

“I love you, too, Zack.”

They broke their embrace. Zack stripped down to his boxer shorts and they lay down, her back nestled into his chest. Their son slept close by.

“About that making love thing …” he began.

“Tomorrow,” she promised.

With one arm under her pillow, he put his other arm over her and his son and closed his eyes. 

Chapter 24

After clearing away the log obstructing the path through the woods, he drove on toward his destination. He remembered coming out here a long time ago to see where it had all happened. This time he would finish the job.

He entered the clearing with the grass, now brown from fall’s cool weather, still higher than the car hood, blocking his view and obstructing the headlights. Not wanting to run into the building that he knew was nearby, he slipped the gear shift into park and cut the engine, leaving on the headlights. The girl was still unconscious so he got out to explore the area.

He stood next to the car and looked at the small dark building that appeared to float on a sea of brown grass. He reached inside the car and cut the headlights, which didn’t help much anyway. He found a flashlight under the seat and pulled it out. 

Struggling, he made his way toward the building. He paused fifteen feet away and shined the light on the dilapidated shack. The roof had collapsed on one side and a huge hole had been letting rain and the elements penetrate the interior for what looked like years. He wasn’t optimistic that much would be left or that the inside could be used for any kind of shelter other than for critters that had probably made their home in there.

He decided to check it out anyway and the door practically fell off its rusted hinges when he opened it. He shined the light around the room. The grass grew up through floorboards; blackened, rotted wood surrounded him. The moon shined down through the six-foot wide hole in the roof. Even homeless squatters would reject this place as habitable.

He decided he couldn’t risk bringing the girl back to the
motel. They would sleep in the car. By tomorrow this would all be over.

---

The sun had been up for less than thirty minutes. Zack glanced down at the speedometer – 83 miles per hour. He flipped on his flashing lights to keep any cops from confusing him with a regular speeder, which actually wasn’t legal, but Zack was in a hurry and he was working a case. He hadn’t noticed how fast he was travelling because his mind was spinning with thoughts of seeing Tommy Ray for the first time in almost six years. He wasn’t sure how he would feel when he confronted the man who’d jabbed a shotgun into his back as he marched him off to what was supposed to be his grave. What could motivate a person to want to kill another person? Six years earlier Tommy had planned to murder Zack. Now, the whole event seemed to Zack like a surreal story he’d heard but had not experienced personally. Very soon he would be face to face with Tommy again. Would he remember that feeling, the terror of imminent death?