13
October 22nd, 1:15 PM
Deputy Reed sped down West Summit Avenue and came to a stop in front of a large colonial style home with white siding and brown shutters.
He jumped out of the car and with one hand on his gun, he jogged up the walkway and onto the front porch. He knocked on the door.
“Mr. Slater, this is the police. Please open up!”
There was no answer. He pounded the door a few more times, repeating his initial dialogue. The residence was silent. He reached for the doorknob and turned it. The house was unlocked. Reed pushed the door open and walked in.
The house was cold. The heat had not yet been turned on and with the fifty-degree temperatures outside, it was definitely uncomfortable. Reed made his way through the home, which looked like a pigsty. He could hear a television on upstairs.
Reed positioned himself at the bottom of the stairs and called up. “Bruce? Are you up there?”
A rustling noise in the room above him caught his attention. There seemed to be a groaning coming from upstairs. Reed ran up the stairs and turned the corner, raising his police issue Beretta.
“Bruce?” Reed called out as he peered into the bedroom. He swung to the left and saw Bruce laying on the floor in a t-shirt and gym shorts. He had blood dripping from his forehead.
“Oh my God, Bruce. Are you alright?” Reed asked, hurrying to his side. He rolled him over, and Bruce moaned. His eyes fluttered but finally opened, revealing them extremely bloodshot.
“What happened?” Reed asked.
“I was trying…trying to sleep. I reached over for…for the…the…” Bruce was slurring his speech and waving his arm around aimlessly.
“For crying out loud, Bruce, you’re drunk!” Reed looked up at the nightstand, which had blood on one of the corners. Reed shook his head and helped Bruce to his feet.
“What’s the deal, Deputy? Did you find him yet? Is the festival back on?” Bruce spoke in a tired and groggy manner.
“Is that what this is about, Bruce? Your precious festival gets canned and you drink yourself to death? No, its not back on and no, we haven’t got him yet. That’s why I’m here. We need you to come down to the station for some questioning.”
“What?” Bruce grew loud and pulled himself from Reed’s grip. “I don’t need to come down there!”
“Bruce, I suggest you cooperate.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Bruce stumbled away, causing a ruckus. “That jerk Slasher ruined everything for me!”
“Darn it, Bruce!” Reed grabbed a hold of him, wrestled him to the ground, and cuffed him.
Officer Jamie Dart left his cruiser running in the dirt driveway at the Becker house. He walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell. Aiden answered the door within seconds. His eyes were red, and he was surprised to see the officer.
“Can I help you, officer?” Aiden asked.
“Yeah. We have orders from the Sheriff to bring you in for further questioning. So, you need to come with me,” Dart said, staying calm and professional.
“Questioning? Am I a suspect?” Aiden was stunned. He rubbed his eyes and sniffled.
“It’s procedure. We have a few more questions. Are you…crying?” Dart said, noticing the tears.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Aiden said, wiping his face. “It’s Brandon. He was in a really depressed mood, you know, because of everything that’s happened. I haven’t seen him in about a week.”
Dart’s eyes shot open. “He’s missing? Why didn’t you call us?”
“Because I wasn’t thinking anything bad. I knew his mind was all over the place. He was unstable. I just thought he wanted to get away for a bit, so I didn’t think anything of it. But all of his stuff is still here. He just disappeared.”
“Okay, I still need you to come with me. We’ll find your brother, Aiden.”
“Do you think he could be a…” Aiden stopped in mid sentence, and Dart waited for him to finish. “… killer?”
“We’re not excluding any possibilities at this time. C’mon, we’ll talk about it at the station.”
3:35 PM
Ashley Penner sat in the living room of her apartment. The TV was on, but was on mute. She had a dazed look on her face.
Mark Jenson walked into the room, zombie-like. They had both been devastated by the recent events. Friends had been killed and the town was in a state of dread. Mark cleared his throat behind Ashley, snapping her out of her infinite stare.
“I’m leaving for a bit,” Mark impassively said.
“What? What do you mean?” Ashley asked.
“I need some time. I’m feeling sick. I’m getting angry and I don’t want you to have to see me like that.”
“Mark, we’ve known each other since high school. You can let me see you however you are. Plus, you would just leave me here alone? With a killer out there?”
“I’ll be back. I just need to find some kind of peace.”
“I can’t believe how selfish you’re being!”
“I’m not being selfish, Ashley. Please, I need time.”
Mark grabbed his jacket off the hook and left the apartment.
“Mark, you jerk!” Ashley cried from the couch.
6:00 PM
Deputy Reed walked into Carter’s office, where the soft, bouncy music of The Beatles played from a portable radio on his desk. Carter was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. He sensed his Deputy’s presence, and woke up.
“Why don’t you go home and get some rest, Sheriff.” Reed said.
“No time.” Carter gathered his thoughts. “How’d the interviewing go?”
“Well,” Reed began, “Bruce Slater passed out due to intoxication, and Aiden seems to be more worried about this brother. We’re going to hold them both overnight and try again tomorrow.”
Carter nodded. He noticed Reed had his coat and hat on. “Are you leaving?”
“Yeah. My shift is up. I’ll be in tomorrow to help with the questioning.”
Carter yawned and nodded again. “See you then.”
Reed left and Carter stood up, walking out to the front desk where Bethany was putting on her coat.
“Are you out of here too, Bethany?” Carter asked.
“Yup.”
“Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Sheriff,” Bethany said, shutting off her computer monitor. She bundled up and left. Carter stood in the lobby by himself. He looked over at the holding cells where Bruce was passed out in one of them. Aiden was lying on the bench inside the other one – he appeared to be asleep.
He could hear other officer’s voices throughout the station. Carter felt alone. How could a month long murder spree take place, and his department couldn’t even get one break, tip, clue or lead. They were missing something. The answer had to be easier than it appeared.
The killer was looking for attention – local and national. He wants to be known. He was to create a legacy – a tall tale that people will be telling for years. He’s trying to put Stewart Hollow on the map. Why had he specifically chosen Halloween themed killings? He could have done this anytime in the year, but he had chosen to do it now. ‘The Legend of Stewart Hollow’ suggested the legacy would live on forever – how could the killer be so sure of this?
But who was it? Could there have been a random person passing through and killing people before he decided to leave? Or could it be someone they’d already questioned? Someone who excels in lying? Someone involved in the festival? Someone not involved, but just looking on, hiding in plain sight. The one gut feeling that kept coming back to Carter was the most haunting. Someone in Stewart Hollow was not who they appeared to be. Someone who seemed like an average Joe, a neighbor, a friend or an acquaintance – was moonlighting as a serial killer.
Something else was bothering Carter; something that ‘The Legend’ spoke of: It starts with a puzzling poem, and culminates on Halloween, when the unexpected is the center of a horrific scene of repulsive horror.
What did that mean? Were they still in for a surprise?