Kentucky Murders: A Small Town Murder Mystery Read online

  The social services office had one guard and one night shift orderly. Four rooms served as temporary lodging for clients until they found more permanent places to stay. Their tenets were often battered spouses and children, or as in this case, children who lose their parents to events like late-night car accidents. This was their first murder, as far as Kate knew.

  After a few minutes of sitting quietly, Kate and Zack went upstairs.

  “Do I get to sleep in our room?”

  “Are you going to stop drinking?” When he nodded she said, “Fine. But I’m still pissed at you. We’ll talk about it later.”

  Zack undressed. “I just have to get a nap and then go back out to the scene at first light.” He set the bedside alarm for an hour later and climbed onto the bed.

  Slipping around to her side of the bed, Kate joined him. “Zack, are you all right? I don’t like it when you drink, and now look at what you have to deal with.” She curled up behind him and spooned with him. “Maybe being sheriff is too much pressure.”

  Facing away from her, he spoke, “You could have mentioned your doubts months ago. It’s a little late now.”

  She didn’t speak.

  Finally he continued. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

  She felt his sigh.

  “And that poor, innocent little girl. She’s…she’s all alone now. Kate, I don’t know, you may be right. Maybe I’m in over my head.”

  Kate waited for him to continue. He didn’t. “Don’t worry. You’ll get through this.”

  Then Kate felt a tug on the blanket and looked over the edge of the bed.

  “Mommy?”

  “Jimmy?”

  “Can I sleep with you?”

  She lifted the covers. “Come on.”

  He jumped up, climbed over her and in between her and Zack, all in one swift motion.

  Zack rolled over and faced his son and wife. “Hi, little buddy.” He smiled, put his arm over them, and closed his eyes.

  ---

  As the sun broke above the treetops Zack stood looking at the splintered doorjamb of the back kitchen door. They had entered here but left no foot or fingerprints behind. They had been very careful to wipe their feet and wear gloves. This wasn’t a couple of dumb junkie burglars stumbling across a home to rip off; although, they had emptied a jewelry box and all the cash from the man’s wallet and the woman’s purse. They may have taken other valuables, too, but an expensive stereo and television still stood in the living room. It appeared they’d only taken small items because they were in a hurry. And petty burglars don’t normally execute their victims, or draw swastikas in blood on the wall above their bodies, Zack thought.

  “I’m going to check out the backyard, sheriff,” said Rachel. “They probably came from the woods across the field by looking at the dirt they rubbed off on the door mat out back. There should be footprints somewhere.” She nodded and went out the back door.

  One side of the kitchen served as an informal dining area. Zack pulled out and sat in one of the wooden chairs tucked under the small table. He took out his notepad and began going back over his notes. He wanted to make sure he hadn’t forgotten any details. He would spend hours later going over these notes and the photos Rachel had taken. These killers were good, but no crime was perfect. He’d learned that in his college criminal investigation classes and during his two years as a deputy on the force. He had investigated burglaries, but this was his first murder investigation. Unless you counted the murder of his friend, Max, six years earlier, when he’d first come to Michaeltown. But he wasn’t a cop then. He felt vaguely guilty - he hadn’t thought of Max in years.

  “Sheriff!”

  He heard Rachel calling to him from outside and he exited the back door to find her crouched down at the corner of the house.

  “Bingo,” she said, pointing to a patch of dirt. “I’ve got two sets of boot prints. I’ll make casts of them. You find these boots and you’ll have your killers.”

  Great, thought Zack. I’ll put out an APB for boots.

  ---

  Kate slowly opened her eyes and blinked. Yellowish early morning light filtered through the half open bedroom blinds. She turned over and found the rest of the bed empty.

  Jumping out of bed she rushed down the hallway. As she approached Jimmy’s bedroom, she heard his T.V.

  She looked into her child’s room and saw Jimmy sitting on his bed. Dozens of toy soldiers were poised for battle on the cloth battlefield before him. His T.V. played unnoticed in the background.

  “Good morning.”

  “Hi, Mommy. Can I eat now? I’m starving.”

  “Come on.” Then Kate remembered that Zack had said he would be getting back to work at sunrise. She hadn’t even noticed him getting up.

  “Captain Crunch here I come!”

  As they went downstairs, Kate thought about Zack and their future.

  Chapter 8

  The lights in the cellblock had been extinguished twenty minutes earlier. Lee lay in his bunk, listening. His eyes strained to see movement in the shadows outside his cell bars. Everything seemed to be moving in the low light, but nothing actually was. At least he hoped . . .

  He’d arrived at Kentucky State Penitentiary that day and he knew he was new meat on the cellblock. A moan came from somewhere a few cells away. He couldn’t tell if it was a moan of pain or pleasure.

  The two hundred fifty pound, tattooed, skin headed hulk he’d drawn as a cell mate lay snoring in the lower bunk below him. Maybe he would make it through his fist night in prison without getting raped---as long as he didn’t sleep.

  “Cherry, boy,” came a low call from another cell. “Fresh meat.” Voices bounced from the metal and concrete, losing their sense of direction and making it impossible to tell where they were coming from. “We’re gonna get you, boy.” Low, menacing laughter came from somewhere.

  Lee sat up and looked out through the bars and into the dimly lit cellblock.

  “You’re gonna squeal like a pig,” came from some other direction. More muted laughing erupted from another unseen cell. “Gonna pop that cherry.”

  Lee lay back and wondered if he would ever really sleep again.

  The sound of birds singing outside his window awoke him. He quickly rolled to a sitting position at the edge of the bed. He rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. He scanned the bedroom, safe in his house, in his bed. No one was trying to rape him and the cops hadn’t arrived during the night to arrest him for murder. Everything was cool, quiet, and normal.

  Then he thought about last night. Normal? He wondered if things would ever be normal again. He’d slaughtered two people like animals. Why? For money? His ex-wife was to blame for all of this. If not for her, he would never have killed her loser boyfriend, and he wouldn’t have gone to prison. Living in prison, among those immoral animals, had turned him into one, or had at least given him the ability to become one when he was backed into a corner. Now his only goal was survival for himself and his daughter. All of his options had been stripped away from him. Now there was no way to get back a normal life, unless he could finish this job and go away to a place where no one knew him or his little girl. His only chance was to start fresh.

  He got up and went into the kitchen, removed a Coke from the refrigerator, and popped the top. He thought about his next move. He had to find that girl. He knew the place where the news would have traveled to by now. After all, even with the new subdivisions sprouting up near the freeway and all the strangers driving around in their BMWs and Cadillacs, this was still a small town. And the diner was still the place you went to find out the latest gossip from the locals. They were sure to be discussing the murders and someone would know what had happened to the girl. And he was hungry anyway. He flipped on the coffee pot, went to the bathroom, and jumped into the shower.

  Fifteen minutes later he stood wearing a pair of boxer shorts in the kitchen. He needed more caffeine after that restless night of sleep. The hot shower
had helped, but the memories that kept him awake every night wouldn’t allow him to ever rest peacefully again.

  He had to concentrate on getting the money, no matter what it took, so he and his daughter could start a new life. If they could escape to somewhere out west, maybe Vegas, they could take on new names and start over; he would make sure she had a chance at a better life. He sat back in his recliner with a cup of coffee and pictured her waiting for him to pick her up from school. She would smile as he drove up. Then he saw her playing sports. Maybe she would make the girls basketball team. He would have to start teaching her soon. He had been a pretty good ballplayer himself in school. She would have a chance at a life, but not if that bitch mother of hers had anything to say about it. Lee vowed to set her free, even if more people had to die to make it happen.

  He stood and finished the last of his coffee. Setting the cup on the countertop, he went toward the bedroom at the back of the trailer to get dressed.

  Chapter 9

  At 8:15 Lee entered the diner and took a seat on a stool along the right side of the counter. Millie, who’d worked there forever, came towards him with a coffee pot in her hand. Bags hung under her eyes and the stale stench of Marlboros assailed him. She smiled with tobacco stained teeth. She reminded Lee of his dead mother.

  He reached up and turned over the coffee cup

  She filled his cup. “What can I get for you, honey?”

  “I’ll take a western omelet, hash browns and keep the coffee coming.”

  “It’ll be right up.”

  Lee scanned the diner. A mother, father and a couple kids sat in a booth. Three old men sat along the counter down from him. A teenage boy and girl occupied one of the tables and an old lady sat alone in another booth.

  “You hear about the murders, son?” asked the old coot next to Lee.

  “Murders?” Lee responded, feigning disbelief.

  “Yeah, we were just talking about it. That old farm out on Riker’s Road. Whole damn police force’s out there. ‘bout time they start earning our tax dollars”

  “What happened?” Lee strained to sound casual.

  “The Johnson’s who live down the road are saying a black couple got shot.”

  “Yeah, I reckon I’ve seen them around town,” said Lee nonchalantly. “Didn’t they have a kid? Little girl I think.”

  “Don’t know about no kid,” said the man next to Lee.

  “Yeah, Calvin. Weren’t you listening? The little girl made it out alive,” said the second man in the row.

  The third man said, “I think Calvin’s getting the Alzheimer’s. Can’t remember a conversation from five minutes ago, but ask him about the war and he can tell you how many pimples that German had that he fought hand to hand back in ‘44. And the fralines, that’s what they called the girls in them German bars. He sure as hell remembers them from forty five years ago. Heard the stories a hundred times. But ask him about what happened yesterday and he can’t remember a damn thing.”

  The middle man spoke up again. “I heard they called the Social Services people and they picked up the girl. Must have taken her to their office.”

  “Middle of the night?” asked the one closest to Lee.

  “They’re on call twenty-four hours. Ya think bad things only happen during the daytime, Calvin?”

  “So they found her?”

  “Yup. Heard Sheriff Taylor found her in the playhouse out back.”

  Damn, thought Lee. They must have walked right by her on the way out.

  The waitress stepped in front of Lee and slid his omelet and potatoes across to him. “Enjoy.”

  Lee ate and thought. The old men moved on to some other gossip and forgot about him. Sheriff Taylor. Wonder boy. Lee had been jealous for that son of a bitch ever since he had married Kate Jenkins. Lee had had a thing for Kate since her senior year. She had been a couple years behind him in school but she hadn’t been much to look at until her last year of high school. Then her braces came off, her tits got bigger, and suddenly she was little Miss Popular. Even after his graduation Lee had continued to go to all the games where she had been a cheerleader. He could still remember her in that short little skirt with that blond hair bouncing as she jumped up and down. Damn, he thought, feeling the stirrings of an erection.

  Then he realized he needed to get over to Social Services.

  He quickly scooped the rest of his food into his mouth, chewed a few times and washed it down with coffee. He stood, took five dollars out of his pocket and laid it on the counter. Looking at his watch, he saw it was 8:55. He left the diner and went to his truck. First he needed to make a phone call. Then he had to find that girl.

  He drove out of town. After about fifteen minutes, he pulled into a gas station near the freeway and walked over the pay phone at the side of the building. After dropping several quarters into the slot, he dialed the number. He had wondered where the number was located. Although he knew it was probably a cell phone, which meant the person who answered the line could actually be anywhere. Even nearby. On the third ring a familiar man’s voice answered.

  “Hello?”

  “I think I know where the girl is but I’m not sure we can get her. Maybe we can negotiate for less.”

  Lee had gotten a call out of the blue several weeks earlier. This same voice had offered to pay him $25,000 to do a “job” for him. He explained the details. Lee found out later that someone he’d known in prison, but the caller wouldn’t say who, had recommended him for the job. The deal was for him to kill certain people and kidnap their kid. Five thousand of the money would be paid up front and the rest after he delivered the kid. Then he would be out of it.

  Lee had taken several days to think about it before he called the man back and agreed to the terms. He didn’t want to do it but he had no choice. The life of an ex-con was basically hopeless. When he could find a job, his employers knew they could pay him less and treat him like shit. If he gave them any trouble, they’d just fire him. After all, they had given him a break by hiring him, so he owed them. At least that’s how they saw it. There was no way to get a good job with a felony on your record, especially when your crime had been murder.

  Then Lee thought about his daughter. His little Jenny had been just a baby when he went to prison. He couldn’t stand seeing her living with that bitch, her so-called mother. The parade of boyfriends that moved in and out of the house would eventually turn the girl into a worthless piece of trash like her momma. Lee hoped none of them were perverts that liked little girls. If he ever found out one of them was hurting his daughter, he’d happily go back to the joint for murdering that son of a bitch.

  He had to get her out of there before that happened.

  The bitch had made sure he had no visiting rights and the judge had gone along. After all, he had murdered a man just a few rooms from where the baby had been sleeping. But Lee had managed to meet his daughter on the sly after getting out of prison. He found out where and when she walked home from school and found a way to happen upon her.

  He remembered that first time. As she had walked down the sidewalk toward him leaning against his truck he felt his heart race. At first she didn’t really pay attention to him until she got closer. She looked up at him and their eyes met. She blinked once, then again. He almost fainted when she said, “Daddy?”

  “Jenny?”

  She dropped her book bag and ran to him, her arms spread.

  When she hugged him, he couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. He finally managed to speak. “I didn’t think you would…how did you know?”

  She looked up from her hug. “I have your picture.”

  Since that day he’d met her each afternoon. They couldn’t spend much time together for fear of getting caught, but he cherished their short conversations and the minutes he spent with her.

  Now he had a chance to make some real money. He could get his baby and they could disappear. Twenty grand would be enough to give Lee and his daughter a new start.

  “What
about the girl?” asked the voice on the other end of the line.

  He’d forgotten he was on the phone.

  “She’s at Social Services.”

  “The job was to kill the adults and bring me the girl. You haven’t fulfilled your end of the contract.”

  “But we’ve lost the element of surprise. It will be dangerous to try to get her now. She’s just a kid. What do you want with her anyway?”

  “Call me when you’re ready to deliver the girl. Then we’ll arrange for you to get the rest of the money.”

  The phone went dead. Lee slammed down the receiver. “Damn it.”

  ---

  He pressed the End button on his cellular phone and placed it back into his inside breast pocket of his leather vest. That’s what I get for hiring rednecks instead of professionals. Hopefully the money would be enough of a motivation for them to finish the job. As he pulled back the curtain and looked out of his motel room window at the McDonalds across the street, his stomach growled. A sausage biscuit and some hot coffee would hit the spot. He heard the roar of a truck passing by on the freeway bridge next to the motel. He opened his door and stepped out into the cool morning air. As he crossed the parking lot and started across the street, he looked over at the sign next to the road. It read: Michaeltown 8 Miles.

  Chapter 10

  At not quite noon Zack pulled into his driveway. He turned off the engine and sat for a few minutes, exhausted. The long night and morning he’d just spent out at the farm had sapped most of his energy. In fact, he’d almost dozed off at the wheel on his trip home. He sat and looked at his house as he summoned the energy to go inside.

  He and Kate had sold the small house in town the first year Zack had joined the Sheriff’s Department as a deputy. It had gotten too small for their growing family. When the first new subdivision of the town’s expansion had started going up a few years earlier, they had put a down-payment on a three bedroom, two-story home with a two car garage. It was located just outside the city limits on the west end of town. He remembered taking Jimmy out to the house as it was being built and watching the framing go up, then the roof went on, and each piece of the puzzle was added as it came to completion. Jimmy would run through the plywood and two-by-four structure looking for something new from the last time they’d visited. “Dad, look, new sink!” he’d yell. It had been the ultimate father-son experience that Jimmy might not remember later, but Zack certainly would. Just in case, Zack had taken pictures to jog Jimmy’s memory when he got older. Sometimes they would even let Mom come along.