Running in Circles Page 7

  Even the governor personally called Earl to discuss the murders, as if Earl needed any more pressure put on his shoulders. Governor Warren hinted, or threatened, for Earl to figure it out and soon. Otherwise, his job would be on the line. Elections were coming up, and the governor wanted to secure his seat again.

  Several news stations, some local and some from Chicago, had camped outside once the news had broken. Earl knew he needed to give a statement about the murders and provide the necessary information to the public. After the press conference, he’d also have to open up even more phone lines to the public for tips.

  Once the clock struck four PM, Earl nodded toward the TV crews, which signaled he was ready to begin.

  “Good afternoon, everyone. I’ve brought you all together today to present some tragic news which has plagued our small town. As many of you may know, a few nights ago, Jackie Malone, a single woman, was found murdered in her own home. The investigation is ongoing, and we believe we are looking for a white male, approximately forty-five to fifty years old. We have interviewed a few key witnesses and have one person of interest in custody.

  While our town continues to mourn the loss of a fellow citizen, I’m afraid I must also announce the loss of two more individuals. A man walking his dog found the bodies this morning. At this time, we do not know the identity of the new victims and will not release this information until all next of kin has been notified. I, also, cannot provide any additional information yet as this investigation is ongoing, too.

  I can say, a male and a female were found murdered at the ravine just outside of town. We believe the bodies were moved after death. We are trying to find the original scene of the crime along with anyone who may have seen a suspicious individual around the ravine last night or this morning.

  As of right now, we believe the crimes are linked and may have been committed by the same person. We urge the public to stay aware of their surroundings and be cautious of strangers. If you see something, we ask that you say something. We are opening up additional tip lines, and the numbers will be available on our website after the conference concludes. I’ll now open it up to questions from the press.”

  An aggressive blonde reporter with crimson lipstick and fake eyelashes spoke up first. “Sheriff, how do you know the suspect is white and closer to his fifties? How do you know there isn’t more than one killer?

  “Our experts say these crimes fit the profile of a Caucasian male in his fifties. Of course, it’s possible that the suspect does not fit the profile, but it’s the best information we have at this time to narrow our search.”

  “Are the two new victims older, too?” The same blonde reporter asked vehemently.

  “We do not have an exact age for the newest victims, no-”

  “Then how can you say the killer is closer to Ms. Malone’s age?”

  “While I appreciate your eagerness for the answers,” Earl said sharply, “we are doing our best to create a profile of the killer which mirrors past cases and analytics. Next question, please.”

  The blonde looked deflated and opened her mouth to ask a follow-up, but another reporter spoke first. “Are you officially declaring these acts those of a serial killer?”

  “Yes. Due to the similarities between the two crimes, we have no reason to believe they were committed by different people. When a person kills three or more sequentially, then we label it a serial crime.”

  “Do you have any suspects?” another reporter asked quickly.

  “As I previously mentioned, we have a few leads we are looking into, and have a person of interest we’re interviewing, but we have not made any arrests.”

  “Sheriff-”

  “I’m afraid that’s all the time I have for now. Again, please check the Stony City Sheriff’s Department website for additional tip line numbers. Have a good day, everyone. Be safe.”

  "Do you have any idea at all who the Stone City Slasher could be? You must have an idea!" another reporter called out.

  Earl rolled his eyes. He'd wondered when the press would give the killer a name.

  A roar of more questions and camera flashes erupted as Earl exited the podium and stepped back into the station. He hated being under the microscope like that and wished the station had a PR person to take over events such as this. Public speaking wasn’t his forte by any means, and he often feared he would stumble over his words or be unable to finish his thoughts before the media.

  This time, he survived their questions and now he had questions of his own to ask.

  Twenty-Three

  “Mr. Brickland,” Earl began, “how are you today?”

  “Besides the fact I found two bodies this morning?” he managed to say.

  Earl tried to keep the sourness he felt off his face. In his eyes, everyone was the killer. Better to be on the prowl than on the defense. This guy could be the killer, or Mick could be the killer. He didn’t have all the facts yet. And, until he got ‘em, anyone could be a suspect. Hell, maybe Mick knew this guy?

  Tim Brickland, forty-seven, had a long gray beard and piercing green eyes. He had an air of superiority which didn’t sit well with Earl.

  “We know this isn’t the ideal circumstance, but we do appreciate you coming forward willingly to speak with us,” Earl said professionally.

  Tim nodded and scratched at his scalp. Then, he leaned back in his seat nonchalantly and put his feet on the table. Earl and Ricky exchanged a quick glance with each other. Both seemed to share the same bothered feelings about the man who sat before them.

  Earl took the lead during this time. He still wanted Ricky to learn before he interviewed additional witnesses and suspects all on his own.

  “So, Mr. Brickland—”

  “Tim,” the man interjected.

  “Okay, Tim. Tell us a little about yourself,” Earl said. He eyed the red dot faintly glowing in the camera above them.

  “What do you wanna know? I have to get to work soon.”

  Earl let out a deep, guttural sigh. He knew this wouldn’t be an easy interview, and he hoped it wouldn’t last all day, but at the current rate, he might as well prepare to eat dinner at the station. This guy wore a chip on his shoulder, and Earl couldn’t figure out why.

  “Just tell us about yourself. Where did you grow up? What do you do for a living? That sort of thing,” Earl suggested.

  “All right. Well, I lived here all my life. I’m a janitor at the high school,” he said, putting his hands on the back of his head and yawning.

  “I see,” Earl said. “And do you usually take your dog on walks by the ravine?”

  Tim nodded.

  “Can you confirm that verbally for us?” Earl pointed to the camera. “Just for the transcription’s sake.”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of dog do you have?”

  “Lab,” Tim said.

  “That’s sweet,” Earl said half-mockingly. “How did you first discover the bodies?”

  “Bud sniffed ‘em out,” he said slowly.

  “Did you call the police right away? Did you wait? Did you touch the corpses?”

  Tim’s face turned a pale tint of green. “No.”

  Earl noted that and looked back to Tim.

  “I called right away,” Tim said airily. “Geez, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

  Earl’s cell phone pinged, and he felt relief for a reason to stop talking to Tim and engage someone else, even if for just a moment. “Excuse me,” Earl said as he pulled out the phone from his pocket.

  He looked down at the text message and saw it was from another officer in the station. “Come here. You’re going to wanna see this.”

  “Tim, my partner and I will be right back. We shouldn’t be too long. Okay?”

  Tim nodded and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

  “There’s no smoking inside, sir,” Earl said. His blood pressure rose.

  “C’mon.” Earl gestured to Ricky, who followed him out of the interrogation room.

  “What
’s up?” Ricky asked.

  “Shep has some information for us,” Earl said.

  They strode over to his desk and greeted a gleeful Officer Shepherd, who was typing away on his computer as though he was about to claim his winning lottery ticket.

  “What do you have for me, Shep?”

  “Boss, you’re never going to believe this.” Shep pointed toward his computer screen, and an older mugshot of a man stared back.

  “Who’s this?” Ricky asked innocently.

  “That—” Shep said, “is the man you two have been talking to today.”

  Earl’s mouth dropped. “That’s Tim Brickland?”

  “Yes, sir! In ‘97 he was arrested in the next county for attempted rape and assault of a teenaged girl. He did a nickel downstate, but was released for good behavior.”

  “Wow,” Ricky said in awe. “Do you think he could have killed Jackie and that couple, Boss?”

  “I think he’s the best lead we’ve got. C’mon, Ricky. We have an interview to finish.”

  Earl and Ricky interviewed Tim for three more hours after they discovered his violent past. Tim promised he’d become a changed man and found Jesus while in prison. He swore on his dog’s life he’d never hurt anyone else because he'd learned his lesson. Earl pressed him fiercely and eventually showed Tim the crime scene photos up close. Earl wanted to crack him, and he did, but not into any kind of confession.

  “Jesus Christ! Get that out of my face!” Tim hollered.

  “You’re going back to jail, Timmy. You know this, right?”

  “I swear I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me!” He shouted in the interrogation room. His shoulders slumped, and he put his head in his hands. To anyone else, it would appear Tim was crying, but Earl knew better.

  He knew better than to buy a few crocodile tears from a convicted rapist. He knew no amount of fake tears could mask the horror within a monster.

  “It’s out of my hands, I’m afraid,” Earl said. “You killed those people. I know you did it. Now, you’ll have to pay.”

  Tim continued to fake sob with his head on the table and his arms holding his own body tightly. “No, no, no!”

  Once Earl knew Tim wouldn’t talk any further, he called in Shep to take Tim back to his holding cell where he’d be transferred to county. He’d be charged with the murder of Jackie Malone, John Doe and Jane Doe.

  However, Mick didn’t get away so easily. Earl had been able to pin charges against him, too. Only, these charges were grand theft auto and not first degree murder. There’d been a reason he was never home when the officers came knocking. He knew his stolen cars operation was about to be busted wide open. Except, no one snitched on him; he just happened to be one unlucky bastard. Earl didn’t mind, though. He’d gotten two criminals off the streets. Two birds with one stone, as they say.

  That afternoon, the entire station cheered and celebrated; they’d brought the town’s first serial killer to justice. Or so they thought.

  Twenty-Four

  A handful of years and several schools later, Meghan and Jim decided it was best to homeschool their son. Meghan was already a stay-at-home mother, and it would save the family money as they wouldn’t have to buy enough school supplies to fill a classroom for the year. So, Kit began the fifth grade at his own kitchen table.

  Meghan conducted a vast amount of research to ensure she complied with the state’s regulations for homeschooling. She didn’t want Kit’s education to suffer because he was unable to have a traditional schooling experience.

  The decision to homeschool Kit came once another principal kicked him out the facility. This had been his third school since he stabbed his speech therapy teacher. The last school, Bright Gardens Elementary, had been a school for troubled youth. There, teachers, faculty, and staff were trained to handle difficult children, most of whom suffered severe mental, physical and emotional disabilities. Meghan and Jim fought for weeks regarding whether or not to send Kit there. Jim called it a school for criminals, while Meghan thought having a more guided staff equipped to handle Kit might ease his rare, but violent tendencies.

  His other two schools before Bright Gardens had been your regular run-of-the-mill elementary schools. However, they were technically out of their district, so Meghan drove Kit over a half hour, up to an hour, to and from school every day. Meghan and Jim rarely saw the outbursts his teachers called home about. Meghan often thought the entire debacle was a hoax, a conspiracy against the family. Kit almost never misbehaved at home. Mostly, he just kept to himself, or sometimes he played with Gabby and her dolls in the backyard.

  However, the day Jim and Meghan were called down to the principal’s office again, they started to see what all the fuss had been about. Jim, who threw a fit, left work early, picked up Meghan and headed toward Bright Gardens Elementary. A neighborhood girl, a few years older than Kit, offered to watch Gabby while they were gone. The girl had a half-day at school and thus was available to sit.

  When Meghan and Jim arrived at the school, a sense of creeping fear rippled over their bodies. The windows were barred, and the grass had long since died. The playground was virtually non-existent and appeared unsafe for children. It felt to the couple as though they were entering a children’s prison and not a school. Meghan couldn't remember the school looking like this when they first enrolled Kit, but maybe they looked past the downtrodden appearance because it was the last school in the county to accept him.

  Once they’d entered the principal’s office, they quickly realized they were not the only parents who’d been summoned. A short and squatty couple with graying hair sat before the principal; both had tears in their eyes and blotchy cheeks. When Meghan and Jim walked into the room, the other couple eyed them viciously, like a pair of poisonous snakes.

  “Ah, Kit’s parents. I’m glad you’re here. Please sit,” the principal asked.

  “What’s going on now?” Jim grumbled. “What’s Kit gotten himself into this time?”

  “Your son—” the other father began.

  “Now, now, Mr. Pinehurst. Let’s not let emotions get in the way of an adult discussion,” the principal reprimanded.

  “Adult discussion?” Mrs. Pinehurst shrieked and turned to Meghan and Jim. “Your son cornered our little Millie in the bathroom and asked to see her private parts. He said he wanted to touch her, and if she told anyone, he’d cut her throat!” Mrs. Pinehurst wailed uncontrollably and rocked back and forth in her stiff, wooden chair.

  Jim looked at the couple and back to the principal. “Are you fucking shitting me?”

  “Uh, no, sir,” Principal Whaley said. “We are very concerned about Kit’s behavior at school. This is not the time this has happened.”

  “How do you know it’s not the other way around, huh? How do you know these girls didn’t ask for it? Maybe they wanted to play doctor, ever think of that? Kit is a handsome young man. Ever think these little sluts are preying on him?” Jim shouted.

  “Jim—” Meghan said as she gripped her husband’s arm.

  Mr. Pinehurst stood abruptly and rolled up his sleeves. “What did you just say about my daughter?”

  “Please, please!” the principal called over the shouting parents. “Can we discuss this like adults?”

  “Shut up!” both sets of parents quipped back in unison.

  “Your son is a menace!” Mrs. Pinehurst sobbed.

  Now fired up, Meghan shot back, “Well, why is your precious little Millie here, huh? She must have done something awful to land herself in a school for delinquents!”

  “She’s autistic, you damn wench!” Mr. Pinehurst hollered.

  Jim stood and easily towered over Mr. Pinehurst. “What did you just say to my wife?”

  In the background, the principal picked up his office phone and screeched as he requested several security guards report to his office immediately. They arrived just as Jim swung and hit Mr. Pinehurst squarely in the jaw.

  After that, no other schools within driving distance would accept
Kit into their classrooms. It didn't help either that word had gotten around town after Jim assaulted another parent.

  “Kit? Are you ready, dear? I figured we’d start the morning with some Math,” Meghan called to Kit, who played with his action figures in the living room.

  Kit obediently dashed to the kitchen and sat next to his mom to start his lesson.

  “Today, I thought we’d begin with long division. Have you done that sort of thing yet?” Meghan asked cheerfully.

  “No, Mama. I haven’t done long division yet,” Kit said.

  Meghan froze for a moment. Something seemed off about her son. Something seemed different about Kit, and then she realized it: he spoke an entire sentence without stuttering.

  “Kit!” she shrieked, and her son looked alarmed at her sudden outburst.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t stutter!”

  “Oh, yeah. I know,” Kit responded nonchalantly.

  “Oh my, God! You did it again!” Meghan pulled Kit out of his seat and twirled him around the kitchen. He laughed gleefully and played along. After a few minutes, they both sat again, but Meghan’s smile lingered on her beautiful face.

  “When did this happen?” she asked.

  “Well, I’m not afraid anymore,” he said again, without a stutter.

  “Afraid of what, love?”

  “School,” he responded simply.

  “You were afraid of school?” Meghan asked.

  “Yeah. I was scared of getting made fun of because of the way I talked. But now I don’t have to worry.”

  Meghan’s heart melted into a puddle by her feet. She scorned herself for not thinking of homeschooling earlier. Maybe things would have turned out differently.

  “Well, son. You don’t have to worry about that at home. Ready to try this equation?”

  Kit nodded vigorously and began his first lesson of the fifth grade.