6
October 9th – 5:54 AM
The phone rang in Sheriff Carter’s quiet and dark bedroom. The rapidly blinking green lights on the phone illuminated the room for seconds at a time. Carter rustled out of his sleep, and ripped the phone from the machine on his nightstand.
“Hello?” he said, barely awake.
“Sheriff, it’s Bethany.”
“What’s going on? It’s not even six yet?” Carter said, glancing quickly at the clock radio as it changed to 5:55 AM.
“There’s been another murder.”
Carter froze. His gut told him this was inevitable.
Carter sped through town with his sirens blaring, waking up everyone in the town. He arrived on Main Street at a quarter after six. He fought his way through a crowd on onlookers who were yanked out of their sleep by an army of police cruisers, fire trucks and paramedics. Crime scene tape had been strung around the North Hollow General Store, and the onlookers were kept across the street by more caution tape and officers.
Red and blue lights from the emergency vehicles were flashing all over the block, acting as strobe lights, bouncing their reflections off of windows and cars parked in the street. A news van sat across the street with a reporter and photographer arguing with police, trying to get closer.
Carter stopped his cruiser and jumped out, ducking under the police tape and racing up to the store.
“Sheriff!” a voice called out from behind him. Carter stopped and turned around to see Deputy Reed hopping out of the passenger’s seat of his wife’s car. He slammed the door shut and chased after Carter. Stacy Reed sat in her car for a moment, looking at the mess on Main Street before a couple officers approached her and told her to move.
Reed caught up with Carter. “Bethany called me. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I just got here.”
Carter and Reed jogged up to the scene together, and were ultimately horrified when they saw the body.
A young man had been hung; a thick rope wrapped sloppily around his neck. He dangled from the second floor of the store. Twisted around the rope was a string of orange and purple holiday lights. Blood covered the man’s front and back, still dripping from the body and into a pool of red on the sidewalk below.
“Oh my God,” Reed said. Carter stood speechless, looking up at the latest victim.
An officer rushed by the two of them, and Carter grabbed him by the arm.
“Who is that?” Carter said, referencing the deceased.
The officer was in a rush, but quickly spilled all he knew.
“We identified him as Brady Murphy. He worked at the store. He was closing last night, and that’s the last time anyone saw him. The owner left a few minutes early. He was the last one to see Brady alive as far as we can tell at this time. The owner showed up early this morning to do his weekly cleaning and arrived to this.”
“Where is he now?” Carter asked.
“He’s over there with Dart.” The officer pointed across the street where Dart was talking to John by a police car.
“Thank you.” Carter jogged off. Reed looked at the body once more then joined Carter.
John sat in the car with his feet hanging out the side.
“You were Brady’s boss, right?” Carter asked.
“Yes. My name is John Blankenship.”
“You were here with Brady last night?”
“Correct. I told him to lock up the store after I left.”
“Tell us about Brady real quick. Was he a good employee? Hard worker?” Reed asked.
“He was great employee; a little weird at times though. I kind of always got the impression he was gay. He was suppose to work tomorrow, but had to stop by the community center first.” John explained.
“The community center? Why?” Carter asked as his interest piqued.
“Well, he worked there part-time. He was going to be working with the Halloween Festival this year,” John said, watching Carter’s reaction.
“Really?” Carter pondered on that for a moment, then looked at Officer Dart.
Dart was starting to catch on. “All three victims worked for the community center.”
“And all three victims were directly involved with the festival,” Reed added.
“Exactly,” Carter said with a small glimmer of hope in his emotions.
1:30 PM
A small, carved pumpkin sat on the windowsill of the police station, facing out into the streets. Bethany Kidd lit a match and removed the top of the pumpkin. She lowered the match in and brought the pumpkin to life. Blowing out the match, she placed the lid back on it.
Carter stood behind her with a hot cup of coffee in his hand. “Bethany, I’ve calling a meeting. I’d like you there so we’re all on the same page with this situation.”
“You got it, Sheriff.”
Soon after, everyone in the office had gathered around. Carter stood in front of his department with Deputy Reed by his side. The group was chatty. Carter cleared his throat, quieting down the room. All eyes were on him. Behind him was a dry erase board with names, locations and dates written on it – all detailing the murders.
“Alright. I wanted to get everyone up to date with the current situation, and let you all know what we plan to do now. On October 1st, we received a letter – or a poem, if you will – threatening violence on our town throughout the month. So far, this has come true. On October 1st, we were called to the Simmons farm where we found the body of Carly Simmons. She’d been stabbed multiple times.”
Carter turned around and referenced the dry erase board before continuing. “Three days later on the on the morning of October 4th, we found Ms. Eleanor Cook stabbed to death at the community center where she worked. The security system had not worked in some time, so that, along with the lack of fingerprints and witnesses didn’t fair too well for us. Now, this morning, we have our third homicide in the last nine days. Brady Murphy was found stabbed several times, and hung from the second story of the North Hollow General Store where he worked. I will now pass the torch to my Deputy, Allan Reed for his further analysis.”
Carter stepped aside, and Reed took center stage. He referenced a small pad of paper that he carried around and took notes on.
“Up until this morning, we didn’t have any concrete way of connecting the victims. We now know that not only were all three employees of the community center, but all three of them were directly involved in the annual Halloween Festival that Stewart Hollow puts on each year.
“This morning, we took a man by the name of John Blankenship into custody as a person of interest. He was the last person to see Brady Murphy alive last night. We are currently talking to other witnesses who were in or around that block last night. Not only will we be interviewing Mr. Blankenship, but tomorrow we are going to bring in the rest of the employees from the community center for questioning. It would seem appropriate to say that since the three victims are specifically linked to the center and festival, it would be extremely wise to interrogate all who are involved.”
Reed stepped down and Carter stood in front again. “We will issue small details to the press this afternoon to get the word out, and to let the public know that we are trying to solve this problem. In the meantime, any information you may receive or hear of is going to be considered valuable to the case. Respond to all calls and tips. Let’s not let these murders make our town fearful. Remember, we live in a very peaceful community, and I would like to keep it that way.”
Carter stepped down and Reed followed him to his office. The rest of the department went back to their daily grind.
Carter sat down at his desk, and Reed stood in the doorway, sipping his cup of coffee. Officer Dart appeared behind him.
“Um, Sheriff?” Dart said, trying to squeeze by Reed.
“What can I do for you, Dart?” Carter asked.
“I wanted to give another thought on the case.”
“Okay.” Carter shooed Reed away and invited Dart in. He sat in the chair across from Carter.
“It’s just a thought, but don’t you see that all of the murders seem kind of, theatrical?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, these types of crimes don’t really happen in the real world.”
Carter was once again interested in his theory. Dart intrigued him. His thoughts were outside of the box, and he looked at the case like no one else did. Dart continued:
“In the real world, a killer would murder someone and either try to hide the body, or cover it up somehow. But these three homicides seem to be the work of someone who is grasping for attention – not to mention they are all themed.”
“Themed?” Carter asked.
“Halloween themed. First off, the obvious – the killings are happening in October. When Carly Simmons was killed, the report said that there was a carved pumpkin sitting in the yard that the family denies putting there. When Ms. Cook’s body was found, ‘The Monster Mash’ was playing over the PA system – a very popular holiday song. This morning, Brady Murphy’s body was found hung outside of the general store, which has been transformed into a costume shop. Throw in the poem we received and the fact that that all of the victims were working on the festival - you have all the ingredients of an extremely unstable person who is obviously looking for attention. Someone who wants to be the next national news story.”
Dart sat back in his seat, satisfied with his theory, and waiting for a response.
Carter smiled. “You’re acting more like a detective than a rookie.”
“Well, like I said. I’m looking for that big break. I want to retire from the FBI one of these days, Sheriff.”
“Keep this kind of thinking up and you very well may.”
3:45 PM
Sheriff Carter and Deputy Reed sat inside the Oregon Trails Diner about a mile from the station. They sat at a booth in the far corner of the crowded dining room, finishing up the food on their plates. The coffee in their mugs was cold and nearing the bottoms. The waitress came over and offered a refill, but they refused. She left, and they continued talking.
“I don’t want the chance of another murder happening. The killer may be angered by the festival for some reason, or have something against the community center in general – we don’t know at this point.” Carter downed the last drops of his cold coffee. “I think we may have to consider canceling the festival.”
Reed finished off his coffee and set the mug down. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well, like you said, we don’t know anything official yet about the killers intentions or motives.”
“His intentions appear to be knocking off the festival’s staff for some reason. I think that canceling the festival might help save some lives.”
“I know I haven’t been living in Stewart Hollow as long as you have, Ben, but I have been here long enough to know that unfortunately, that festival is all this town has going for it. It brings the community together, and let’s not forget about the money it brings to the local economy. People travel from all over the state to go to it.”
“So you don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“I just say we think about it more before we do it. We don’t want to upset the town.”
Reed pushed his plate to the end of the table, and put his used napkin and fork on it. A woman’s voice shot out from the booth behind the Deputy.
“So, canceling the festival is an option?” Her voice spoke in a sweet, yet devious manner.
Sitting behind Reed was Kelly Rodgers, the pushy reporter from the Hollow Gazette.
Carter’s expression became one of annoyed. “Rodgers, if I remember correctly?”
“Yes, sir, Sheriff. Good memory. I’m surprised you remembered my name. You looked very nervous and flustered at the press conference the other day.” Kelly stood up, throwing down money on her table to pay for the food. She stood at the end of their booth.
“What are you doing here? Spying?” Reed asked.
“I’m not spying. I was having lunch and just happened to overhear the conversation you were having.” Kelly tried to play innocent, although Carter and Reed could see right through her lies.
“You cannot repeat what you just heard, Ms. Rodgers. This is official police business and it shall be treated as such until the media is addressed by us,” Carter stated.
“Yeah, we got your little briefing a couple hours ago. You have someone in custody and you’ve connected all the victims by where they worked. Do you think somebody working at the community center is the culprit?”
“You already know that we’re setting up interviews with the other employees tomorrow, Ms. Rodgers. That is all you need to know right now,” Carter said, trying to shut her up.
“Have you looked into that community center’s manager? Bruce Slater? That drunk tried to come onto me once when we were doing a story about a baseball tournament. That guy gives me the creeps,” Kelly said.
“We are going to look into everyone,” Reed said, as he could see that Carter was getting furious.
“Well, I will let you gentlemen get back to your ‘official police business,” Kelly said, mocking them. “I hope you catch the Harvest Slasher before he strikes again.”
“The Harvest Slasher?” Reed questioned. They looked up at Kelly, who was smiling.
“It’s catchy, huh? We needed a moniker for the killer - something to catch our readers’ attention. I kind of like it.”
“You can’t print that name.” Carter stood up, and towered over Kelly by a good foot and a half, trying to intimidate her.
“Why not?” she asked, not backing down.
“Because you can’t.”
Reed stood up and backed his Sheriff. “The killer may read that and get a big head. If it is attention he’s looking for, you would have just supplied him with more motivation. You don’t know how he will react to a name like that.”
Kelly Rodgers shrugged her shoulders with a smile, turned around, and left the diner.
Carter shook his head. He was worried now. “If she prints that name, she might have just made things a heck of a lot worse for us.”