“What do you mean?” he demanded in a hushed voice. “What’s happened?”
“It’s Sara...”
Rumors spread like a wildfire in a small town like Coral Beach. By the time Monday morning came and the exact number of the dead had been counted, that wildfire had turned into a forest fire. Especially with Xander Drew among the missing. The worst part was all of the rumors came back to Mike and Cathy.
“Now I’m sorry I have to ask you two these questions,” Tim White said to Cathy and Mike from behind his desk. “I understand that you’ve been through a lot and if you want to do this later, that’ll be fine. But I want to catch this killer.”
Cathy looked at Mike.
“Now will be fine,” she answered for the both of them.
“Alright,” he opened his folder with a sigh. “I know this is a sensitive issue for you, but do you think... it could have been Drew?”
“Xander?!” Mike exclaimed. “No way! Never. Not in a million years. No.”
Tim raised his hands in surrender. “I know it’s hard, but there is substantial evidence now. The three of you were locked in that room, according to your own statements, right?”
“Yes,” Mike nodded.
“Now, this killer shows up, starts murdering everyone that Xander always hated and now your boy is gone. Not only that, but the first one he killed was a girl who had turned him down repeatedly.”
Cathy wiped her eyes at the mention of Sara.
“Then, the killer comes across you two. You were his friends, which is why he overlooked you. Which is why you were some of the only survivors. Then, he leaves. He realizes that he’s outsmarted himself and that people like me would put two and two together, and he runs. And now he’s out on the streets somewhere.”
Cathy was crying.
Mike looked at her, then turned back to Tim with hatred in his eyes. “Okay. That’s your opinion. Here’s what I think happened. This killer is just another freak serial killer in a long, sad line of freak serial killers. He kills for a reason, but one that we don’t fully understand yet. Anyway, before he tried to kill Tommy and Sud the other night, he heard them talking about Grendel’s big party and decided to crash it. That’s why he let them get away, when he probably could’ve killed both them and you. So, he shows up at the party and kills a lot of us. That girl, Liz you said... right? Well, she runs into the room where Xander, Cathy and I are being kept. He follows, but thinks that the three of us are already dead, when we’re really just unconscious. He kills the girl and the sound wakes up Xander. So, the killer saw Xander wake and was about to kill him, when... he hears the police approaching. Rather than leave his plan undone, with no time to kill Xander in the grotesque and elaborate ways that he employs, the killer decides to take Xander with him if only for a little while. And yes, the killer is on the streets somewhere.”
Tim looked thoughtful, leaning back and stroking the edges of his mouth and chin.
“That’s what you think happened, huh?” he said calmly.
“That’s what I know happened!” Mike shouted in response.
“Mike,” Cathy said, speaking finally. She turned to Tim with a look of desperation in her eyes. “Xander didn’t do it. And if he ran... you can be sure it was for a good reason.”
“What reason would that be?” Tim pried, fingering his pen against the paper.
Cathy looked away, staring instead at the wall in an effort to fight back tears.
“He didn’t,” Mike said again, tapping a finger against the desk to elaborate.
Tim looked taken aback, then he restored himself. “Okay, son. You can go.”
Mike got up, taking Cathy by the hand. “Come on, love. It’s over now.”
They left Tim that day with much to think about, and much to reconsider.
He bent over his desk and looked at the massive pile of files in front of him, one for each person killed during the ordeal. Jamie Dawkins. Carl Dent. That elderly couple, the Jacobies. Liz Taylor. And at least thirty other teens from Coral Beach High, including Julian Grendel.
Of all of them, Xander was their only link... except for the Jacobies.
He furrowed his brow.
“Maybe...” he thought out loud, pulling the file on the Jacobies forward. “I’m playing this the wrong way. Stop looking for what they all have in common... and look at the one that doesn’t have anything in common...”
He opened the file. There was nothing there. There was the autopsy, but that was it. No birth record, no death certificate, no fingerprints, no dental or medical records... nothing.
“What the hell....” he mumbled, pushing through page after page of blank documents until he found one with something written on it. It was a copy of Salvadore Jacobies’ record of employment, of which there was only one position for which he had reference.
“What the fuck is Engen?”
“Coral Beach Precinct Morgue. Tuesday, the 26th. Harry Ford, mortician for this evening.”
The words were once an attempt at levity and humor. Now, as they were delivered with a sad voice muffled by sobs, they just served to add to the weight of the situation.
“Come on, Harry,” Lance said to his partner through tear filled eyes. “We’ve got a job to do.”
Lance’s wife had always asked how he could do this job. How he could dissect the bodies of his fellow human beings, even if it was in the pursuit of whatever killed them. He had always replied that there were worse jobs out there. That police and firemen often had to deal with gore and danger on the job. That stunt artists in movie crews lost partners
