BODY COUNT: Killers (a novel): Chapter 13. Next Day

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The next morning, Blake awoke to the smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee. The clock showed 7 a.m. He pulled on a pair of jeans and walked toward the front of the motorhome. He expected to see Shelley cooking away at the stove, but it was Bobby, happily breaking eggs in a bowl. “Where’s Shelley?”
    Bobby threw the eggshells into the garbage pail and faced Blake. “She went up the hill, to the tree where the preacher was killed.”
    Blake started to look out the door, but from behind him Bobby said, “You need to put a shirt on, boss. It looks like you went a few rounds with a wildcat last night.”
    Blake walked back to his bedroom and donned a shirt. He felt not only like a fool but like an old fool. When he came back, Bobby had his food and coffee on the table. Blake slid into the booth around the table and picked up his coffee cup. “Thanks, Bobby, not just for the breakfast but the other thing also.”
    Bobby sat down across from Blake. “You made it clear last night that it’s none of my business what you do, but what if she’s the killer? You’ll have compromised the entire case.”
    “Bobby, I’ve been doing this for more years than you have been on this earth, so when I tell you she had nothing to do with the killings, you can believe me.”
    “Why do you exclude her? I’m not questioning you, just trying to learn something.”
    “Killers, especially serial killers, never change their method of killing. If they start out killing with a gun, knife, machete, or – in Betty’s case, it would be an ax – they never change, unless they have to for some reason, which is not the case in these murders – all done with a machete.”
    “What do you mean, Betty’s weapon would be an ax?”
    Blake told Bobby what he had witnessed in the barn. “She’s an expert with the damn things, and people go with what they know best.”
    “So you think someone at the party last night is an expert with a machete?”
    “No, I didn’t say that. The first killing, which took place here, may have been the first time they had ever picked up a machete. But that’s what they used, and it felt comfortable to have in their hand. So it became their weapon of choice.”
    The door opened and Shelley sprung into the motorhome. “You two need to walk up the hill. That preacher was looking down on the church where his family was killed when his head was chopped off. The killer seemed to want the church to be the last thing the preacher saw in this life.”
    Blake finished his last piece of bacon as Bobby brought Shelley her plate. “So, you think that was the killer’s intent?”
    Shelley took a bite of eggs and smiled. “I’d put money on it. The preacher was awake and the killer wanted him to feel the loss before he died.”
    Blake finished his coffee. “Then that makes the killings personal. Or at least that’s how they started. It’s looking more and more like a local. But I really liked Willcocks for this.”
    Blake walked back into his room and put on his shoes. He came out and sat down. “When you finish eating, show me which tree it is.”
    Shelley used her toast to make a sandwich with the rest of her eggs and bacon. She stood up and turned to the door. “Come on, I’ll walk up there with you.” She turned as she stepped down to the ground. “Are you coming, Bobby?”
    “No, go ahead. I’m going to clean up this mess.”
    They walked across the flat, grassy area and started up the hill, which in places was very steep. It was a good 10-minute climb. Blake was out of breath by the time they arrived. Shelley was in much better shape than Blake, but even her breathing was labored.
    “That’s a long way to carry a grown man,” said Blake. “Is this the tree?”
    “Yep.” Shelley ran her hand over the cut in the bark. “Not much of a tree, but it stands out in front of the others. My guess is that’s why it was picked.”
    Blake looked back at the terrain they’d just climbed.
    “Maybe we’re looking for two people,” said Shelley. “The police report didn’t say anything about drag marks or footprints, and I don’t see one person pulling a man up here, I don’t care how big or strong the guy is.”
    Blake looked at her. “So we’re back to it being a man?”
    Shelley laughed. “I’m at it being two men.”
    Blake was shaking his head. “There was too much rage in the killing. This killer wouldn’t want to share that with anyone else – it was one killer that released his rage on this family. It was a personal moment and not to be shared with someone else.”
    Shelley sat down and put her back to the tree. “Then how the hell did this one person get the body up here?”
    Blake thought for a second. “The preacher had to walk up here on his own power?”
    Shelley thought about that for a while. “I don’t buy it. If his family had just been murdered, and in front of him or not, he wouldn’t walk up here like a lamb to slaughter. I think the only way he would have done that is if his family was still alive when he was killed. That would make him the first kill, not the wife and kid. So then, why the mess in killing them?”
    Blake put out his hand and pulled Shelley to her feet. “Let’s walk down the fence line. We may be missing an easy way up here.”
    Trees and brush had been cleared from both sides of the fence, which allowed for repair work to be done. Suddenly, the hill took a gentle slope down into a small valley. Blake guessed that the slope had been created by drainage during rainstorms, even though the valley was dry now.
    “Well,” Shelley said, “an A.T.V. could come this way with no problem.”
    “You think the killer might have used an A.T.V. to bring the preacher up here?”
    “But, in that case,” Shelley wondered,“why was there no report of tire tracks?”
    “Hell, Shelley, we’re in the country. I’ll bet whoever brought the body down came up this same trail and thought nothing of it.”
    “Now we’re right back where we started – nowhere!”
    “That’s not true. We now know how the preacher could have ended up on top of this hill, and we’re back to it could be a woman.”
    Shelley started down the slope. “Let’s go back this way. It looks a lot easier.”
    At the bottom, they looked around, not expecting to find anything but wanting to be sure they didn’t overlook a clue.
    They came around from the back of the church and found Bobby on the porch going through a stack of paper. “The printer’s spitting out all kinds of background information from the pictures we took last night.” Bobby handed Blake a stack of paper. “I’ll go print more.”
    Without waiting for a reply, Bobby took off for the motorhome. Blake began flipping through the stack. Each background report was 3 or 4 pages long, and it would take some time to read through them all. He handed a few to Shelley. He had hoped the computer would flag some of the reports, but he hadn’t seen any flags so far.
    He and Shelley were about finished looking at the reports when Bobby returned.
    Blake said, “We haven’t found anyone yet that would come close to our profile. No death in the family, no terrible event in their life in the last year.”
    Shelley put her papers on the pile and took a few more from Bobby.
    They finished the rest of the reports, and still no one emerged as the possible killer. “I guess our only hope is this guy Willcocks,” said Blake.
    Bobby was stacking the papers. “So, when do we go see him?”
    Blake thought about it for a second. “We don’t. I have someone undercover checking him out.”
    Bobby drew his head back in surprise. “And we’re just now finding out about this?”
    “It’s a need-to-know, and you two didn’t need to know. That’s how this game is played: nobody is put in possible danger without a damn good reason.”
    Blake’s burner phone went off. No longer needing to hide it, Blake said in front of Bobby and Shelley, “Hello, Rainbow, what’ve you got for me?”
    “Sorry, Blake, but Willcocks was in Arkansas during the month that family was murdered. The only reason he carries a machete is that he got busted with a switchblade, and some old farmer he was in jail with told him a machete was a farm tool and they couldn’t stop him from carrying one.”
    “Thanks, Rainbow. Can you safely get out of there?”
    “I’m heading out with a group tonight for Canada. I’ll see you back in Memphis. I have some information on a warehouse full of drugs and guns that the DEA will be interested in.”
    “Be careful.” Blake put the phone away. “Well, that was our inside man. Willcocks was in Arkansas, so he’s no good for our killer.”
    Shelley pulled her legs up onto the porch, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her head on her knees. “What are we going to do now?”
    Blake stood up and headed towards the motorhome. “We start over. We’re missing something. Now that Willcocks is out of the picture, I believe more than ever the killer’s in this area. We may already have seen the answer but just didn’t know what the question was.”

Copyright © 2019, 2020 by Ed Rogers