RBK

Water dripped on the floor as a tall dark man stood on the floor mat. Removing his hat, he walked up to the front counter. The officer behind the counter was busy behind the counter looking down at the desk. The man tapped his hand onto the counter to make his presence known. Without looking up he tells him to have a seat. The man rustled with his wet hat as took a seat in the main waiting room. He takes notice of the time as he waits patiently.

A half an hour had elapsed and the man was growing impatient. He slowly stood up and walked to the counter. This time he leaned over the counter. His face was so close to the officer, any closer he could kiss the top of his head. In a deep and stern tone, he addresses the man.

“I am here to see your sheriff!”

“I said-”

The officer stopped dead in the middle of his sentence. Their gaze met and the officer froze. Cold and serious, the man’s eyes never broke focus. The officer’s voice started to quiver. He nervously reached for the phone in front of him. Five times he accidentally dialed the wrong extension trying to reach the sheriff. Noticing the state of panic of the officer, he softened up a bit to ease the tension.

“Hey sheriff, it's Officer Lawson. You have someone here to see. Okay.”

The man mouthed the words thank you and returned to his seat. In the matter of minutes a slightly overweight man with a bushy mustache. He walked towards him meeting directly in the middle of the lobby.

“One would think a man with a string of murders would have guys that care more.”

The burly fellow threw his hands in a startled fashion. He then started shushing him looking around. He beckoned for the tall man to follow him down a corridor leading to his office. He closed the door behind him and put down the shades. The burley points to a chair while taking a seat behind his desk.

“By the way, I am Sheriff Joel. Everyone calls me Barry or Sheriff.”

“Sheriff Joel, I am Special Agent Darnel Reynolds. So these strings of murders, what can you tell me about them?”

Sheriff Joel hands Agent Reynolds a folder and directs his attention to a white board in the corner of the room. Reynolds gets up from his chair to examine the board further. He looks over a series of photos and names. He noticed the board and noticed a lack of details but a sense of familiarity. As if there is a personal connection between all the victims. Reynolds took a quick over the folder in his hands and sat it briefly on the desk.

“Run this all down to me and from the top.”

The sheriff wriggled in his seat. He moved a few things around on his desk out of being nervous. He, not looking at Agent Reynolds, clears his throat and proceeds to talk.

“Over the last few weeks we started receiving random phone calls. At first the usual was just heavy breathing and such. We ignored it. Then after the first victim, we just got the word ‘hurry’ and address. We would arrive at a messy crime scene at the address given. By the third victim, it was like the killer was taunting us. He would tell us, we can’t save them or we will be too late. We tried to trace his call but it came up at the address he gave us. I don’t know what else we can do.”

The sheriff scratched his head. He flipped over his copy of the file. He tried to find the words to say. Reynolds puts his hand up, palm facing the sheriff. He then moved said hand to having one finger pressed against his upper lip. Checking the call logs, he noticed that the calls were from the address of the victims and usually around 8 to 9 p.m. Reynolds checks his watch. It read 8:09 p.m.

“I will pick up the phone, sheriff. Let me talk to him. I have a fresh voice and face. From the looks of your board, you all have a connection to the victims.”

“Well it is a small town. We usually know all the towns folk. It has been hard trying to figure out the killer. They don't say much and give no clues.”

The sheriff scratches his head and lets out a deep sigh. He grabbed for his drink and took a deep gulp. He gestured for Reynolds to take a seat. Reynolds waved him off and stared at the board. From the sheriff notes nothing is adding up. What could possibly be missing?

Silence fell on the room. Reynolds' concentration has not broken and he is constantly running his hand across the map to pinpoint each crime scene. Five crime scenes, all scattered across the city in no significant location. He goes to rattle off the method of death for each one and then the phone rings.

“Hello this is Agent Reynolds.”

“This is new. Wow, they really need outside?”

The caller’s arrogance echoed in his tone. He laughs loudly. He put the phone down and walked to another part of the room. Reynolds can hear him mutter something. He can hear him say okay that’s as his voice gets louder. The caller picks the phone back up.

“Let’s play a game, shall we? Since they need outsiders I’ll give you three hints. You will not make it here in time, so don’t try. But I know you will try, I know you will. All officers are all the same. I go to the same location after every murder. And last but not least, I am courteous. I will wait in that same location for at least an hour. Goodbye.”

The phone immediately hangs up. They contact the dispatcher to see if they have an address. They headed to 151 Mulberry Avenue and fast. Agent Reynolds proposed to drive, but the sheriff insisted that he knew a shortcut. They blazed down through the town’s streets, cutting down back roads leading through a thick wooded area.

“Did you guys search this area for the perp?”

“No Reynolds. Never had a reason to. No one lives back here anymore. There was a family. A lovely farmer couple and their little boy. They had a big red barn. One night there was a call. The boy was very shaken up. By the time we got to the wife, she was lifeless. Just one entry wound. The husband was standing there, zoned out.”

“Do you have a map of the town?”

“Yes sir. Right in the glove box. Why?”

“Stop the car!”

Sheriff Joel slammed on the brakes abruptly. Reynolds had him rattle off all the addresses linked to the case. Just Reynolds suspected, everything fits in a similar radius to the barn. All the victims have the same single entry wound. Reynolds was sure he figured it out.

“Head to the red barn. That's where we will find the killer. Go!”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Sheriff. Just make you cut the lights and pull up slowly.”

The entry to the property was a long dark road. Without the lights, they drove slowly and cautiously for a quarter mile. They pull up between the house and the barn. Reynolds hopped out the car with his gun drawn saying he will check the barn. The sheriff nodded and headed towards the house.

The sheriff walked up in the back of the house. He checked the door and it was unlocked and slightly ajar. He crept in. It was like a time capsule. The house was the same way he remembered it when he responded to the scene. The table was set neatly. The only place that was distrubed was the kitchen. The smell of homemade chicken noodle made him nauseous. He turns and bolts out the door. As he made it through the back, he saw Reynolds breach the barn.

Reynolds edged into the barn doors. A figure stood in the distance still, motionless. The silhouette a man faced at the wall plastered with photos. A happy family vibe was given off in this off putting candle light. A skeletal remains was under the photos, resting neatly on a pile of hay. The figure never budged.

“It’s over. You lost. Put your hands up. The sheriff told me what happened. To witness something that devastating at a young age must be traumatizing. It’s over now you can get the help and closure you need.”

The figure slowly put his hands up. The crimson red blood stained his whole arm. It was as if he cradled his victim afterwards. He neatly folded his hands behind his head. He slowly got on his knees. Reynolds approached him slowly. He cuffed him quickly and brought him to his feet.

As Reynolds walked him out the barn, the sheriff had already called for backup. A group of squad cars lit up the wooded area with flashes of blue and red. They cheered Agent Reynolds on as he led him to the car. The killer didn’t mutter a word throughout their whole interaction. It was as he was being placed in a squad car that he finally opened his mouth.

“Closure or reality? Since my first victim I prayed to be caught. Now she can be laid to rest, dear mother.”

His dark laugh could be heard echoing as they drove off.