Still, he thought turning the key and bringing the car back to life, he better get home for some sleep before he started looking into the farmyard murders in the morning. He would have some catching up to do on the other reporters, but perhaps there was a personal connection he might be able to leverage to make up the deficit.
Chapter 4
CARSON LEMOND HAD NEVER been so scared in his life. He didn’t know what to do. At first he wanted to go home, grab a shower and get out of these bloodstained clothes, but that was insanity. The police would be at his door before he even got there, waiting to shoot him at the first provocation. Something at the back of his mind was telling him just to go to the police himself. He hadn’t killed Jeff; if he told them the truth surely the evidence would exonerate him?
Carson’s mind played out this scenario for him to show him how bad an idea this really was. You want to walk into a police station, covered in the victim’s blood, carrying the murder weapon, having threatened to kill this man only earlier today in front of multiple witnesses (after beating him up) and you tell them the real killer was some big huge guy who was in the bathroom? Does that sound about right?
But it’s true, he protested but the idea was whipping away in the wind like the trash it was. They would never believe a guy like him. The police knew him from previous assaults and robberies and they would just assume he’d made the natural progression to murder and was too stupid to cover it up. He would be in jail for life and that would be the end of any dreams he might have for his future.
The night was cooling and the blood was hardening on his clothes making them uncomfortable as well as disgusting. He had to get out of them. He carried on through some more alleyways and then saw a couple of concrete apartment buildings he recognised. The people were poor enough there that any clothes drying that went on was outdoors. At any time of the day or night clotheslines would flutter with drying and he should be able to grab something temporary there.
Carson stopped at the street corner; he was going to have to make a dash across a wide road and then a derelict site of a former small playground long since vandalised beyond recognition. He wasn’t too worried about anyone from the apartments seeing him as they saw violence every day and might not even bat an eyelid at him. People on the street though, in the cars passing by could be trouble. This was unlikely but possible; but it was really a cop he was looking for. There was no way a cop was going to ignore someone running from an alley and ducking into the apartments covered in blood.
The coast looked clear, and Carson took a deep breath and sprinted for all he was worth. Car horns honked him as he passed in front of the headlights-no one actually came close to hitting him, but people can be very annoyed about having to slow down when they are driving, especially in a place like this one.
He continued his run even after getting to the other side and then decided to let his momentum take him over the knee high wall that separated the apartment compound from the street. As he’d expected sheets and clothes hung all over. He ripped through grabbing a few things (no one was stupid enough to leave any of their decent clothes down here on the ground floor- he’d have to take whatever he got).
“Hey! Give that back, asshole!” someone shouted at him but it was from a higher floor and no running footsteps came to his ears of anyone in pursuit.
“Fuck you!” Carson called back in an almost gleeful way, the giddiness of his theft getting the better of him. This had been his trouble all along. For a moment, he even forgot why he needed these clothes at all.
When the reality seeped back into his mind, though, the buzz dropped at once and again he was running scared. He went to a gap in the metal railings of Druid Hill Park, and made for one of the ornate fountains there.
The place was thankfully deserted and Carson dropped to his knees and took off his bloody shirt. He washed his hands and dried them quickly with the back of the shirt and then checked in his coat to see that the money was still there. It was fine and for that he felt blessed. It was what was going to keep him going for now. Ten grand could be spread pretty far if he was hiding out.
Next he unwrapped his coat the rest of the way and took out the long knife. He looked it over a moment and marvelled at how long the blade was; he would have trouble trying to use this to stab someone. Looking around to be sure no one was observing him, Carson then dipped it into the water and started to clean it up with one of the garments he’d stolen from the apartment clotheslines. He carried out this work for a full minute before deciding he’d probably managed to get any fingerprints of his off it. He then put it in the fountain base, letting the water come all the way up to his shoulder and placed it on the concrete bed as close to the wall as he could. It would be fairly well hidden here, but someone would find it at
