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Requiem for Lost Souls

By Kevin Barkman TW: Suicide, abuse

By Kevin BarkmanPublished 2 years ago 20 min read
1
Requiem for Lost Souls
Photo by Eyasu Etsub on Unsplash

A body hangs by the neck from a tree in the distance.

I stare through my binoculars across the glassy surface of the lake. The limp body swings in the light breeze, silhouetted in the light of the rising sun. One of my colleagues backs the trailer down the concrete ramp, dropping the flatbed boat into the water. The engine roars to life as we load up our gear. I climb in and we cut our way across to the little island.

We kill the boat’s engine, letting us coast onto the shore. Up close, I realize that I know the face of the boy before me. His eyes are locked open, bloodshot, hemorrhaging evident around the iris. Typical imagery from a hanging like this.

It’s a shame, really. The sight of this boy (and I do mean boy), tugs at me, the fear in his expression staring back at us. I rein in my emotions, keeping my analytical thoughts at the forefront. This is the fifth person…fifth child we’ve found like this in as many months. Not all were hanged. Two were found with wrists let open. One with a bottle of pills clutched in his cold hand. The last…I can’t even talk about.

Our coroner ruled them all as suicides. No evidence of foul play. Nothing out of place. I’ve been pouring over the evidence, trying to make sense of these tragedies. Trying to find any common thread. Anything that might link these cases together. That might prove that these kids didn’t take their own lives.

It started with the second victim. The obsession, I mean. By all accounts, the scenes were exactly how you’d expect, but my gut told me otherwise. To me, it was too perfect. I couldn’t let it go. When more bodies turned up, it only confirmed it for me. No one else on the force believes me, but I can’t just let it go.

“Lyle Walker.” The deputy’s voice startles me out of my daze.

“Sorry, what?”

“His name. It’s Lyle Walker.”

“I know. His mother’s an old friend.”

“I’m sorry. That’s gonna be a rough conversation.”

“It always is.”

“You want one of us to take care of it?”

“Nah. Wouldn’t be right. I got it.” I pull out my pack of cigs, tapping them against my hand before pulling one out. While striking my lighter, “So, what’ve we got?”

“Looks like another suicide. Fifth—”

“I know.”

“The schools really should get better mental health service.”

“Hm.” I mutter under breath, “Doubt it would’ve helped much in this case.”

“Yeah, Eddy, we know about your theory, but none of the evidence supports it. You gotta find a way to accept that this is just a series of tragic coincidences.”

“You really believe that?” I snipe, “You really think that five suicides of five children in five months in a town with a population of three thousand. A town where the only deaths are from old age or farming accidents, and you think this is just coincidence.”

“Like I said, tragic.” He claps me on the shoulder, before turning back to the crime scene.

The county forensics unit goes about their work. Despite what everyone thinks about these incidents, they thoroughly scour the scene, searching for anything out of place. They photograph the rope, the body, and any footprints they can find within the perimeter. All while Lyle sways in the cool morning breeze.

Once they’ve finished documenting the scene, we’re finally able to let him down. We lower his body to the ground, carefully laying him onto the stretcher. I loosen the noose from around his neck, lifting the loop over his head. I look the boy in the eyes, seeing the child I’ve known since infancy. I reach down and brush my gloved fingers over his eyelids, closing them for the last time.

As a team, we carry him into one of the boats, laying him gently to the bottom. Four of us pile in and make our way back to shore where the coroner’s van awaits us. We load Lyle onto the gurney and into the back of the van. I turn away as the van speeds off into the distance.

Autopsy results won’t be in for a couple of days, but I know what it’s going to say: “Death by asphyxiation due to hanging. Result of suicide.” Just like all the others. My partner and I climb back into our car to head back into town. Our next stop, the Walker residence.

This is the worst part of the job. I’ve been doing this for five years here in Earnhardt. Before that, I was a detective in Chicago for fifteen. My son and I moved back here to my hometown after my wife was killed in a drive-by shooting. I couldn’t live in that house anymore. Not when I could feel her influence in everything.

Back in Chicago, I saw more than my fair share of depravity. Murder, maiming, you name it. Even worked a serial killer case as a beat cop before making detective. But it was never like this. Not someone I knew. Not until Jen. And now…

I hoped to get away from all that. To get my son away from all of that by coming to the most peaceful place I could think of. Now this.

As we pull up outside the house, I notice Lena Walker’s car in the driveway. A couple of young children play in the front yard. Lyle’s little brother, and a neighbor kid. The pair look so happy chasing each other around. I hate being the one who has to ruin it.

Roger steps up to the door with me trailing close behind. Moments after ringing the bell, Lena’s form darkens the window. I see a look of confusion and worry cross her features when she recognizes me through the glass.

As she pulls the door inward, “Eddy…What are you doing here?”

Roger is the first to speak, “Mrs. Walker, I—”

“Lena, can we come in?” I interject.

The worry deepens in her eyes, “Sure.” Lena leads us into the dining room, offering us a seat at her table. “Can I get you anything? I’m making a pot of tea.”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Walker,” Roger starts, “Will you—”

“I would love a cup.” Roger shoots me a glare across the table. Lena goes about preparing the tea. Two teaspoons of sugar, just like she knows I like.

“So, what brings Earnhardt’s finest to my home this morning?”

I gesture to Roger, indicating to let me handle this. “Lena, when was the last time you heard from Lyle?”

“Oh, no. What’s he done? He and his little friends get into some trouble again?” She cracks a bit of a forced smile, pushing the worry away.

“Please, Lena. When did you hear from him?”

“Last night. He texted me before getting on the bus. Said he was spending the night at a friend’s place.” Placing the mug in front of me, “Why?”

“Do you remember which friend?”

“Nico Roberts, I think.” The worry creeps back into her voice, “What’s going on?”

“Did Lyle have a girlfriend, boyfriend, anyone he was really close with?”

“I don’t… What is this about?” The worry turns swiftly toward anger.

“Lena, please just—”

“Edmund Joseph St. Claire, tell me what is going on, right now. You’re scaring me.”

“Lena—”

“Don’t Lena me, just tell me. What did Lyle do? Is he in jail? What?”

“You’re gonna want to sit down, Mrs. Walker.” Roger chimes in. Sympathy dripping in his tone.

Anger turns to terror as a realization creeps in. Lena pulls out a chair and collapses into it. “Please, Eddy, just tell me.”

I catch myself avoiding her eyes and force myself to make eye contact. “There was another body found this morning.” Her breath catches as I try to finish, “There’s no easy way to say this, Lena, but…”

“Oh, God!” Lena claps her hand over her mouth, gasping against the tears.

“I am so sorry. I thought I should be the one to tell you. I…”

Between sobs, “No. No. No. Are you sure it was him? Are you certain?”

“We’re…I’m certain, Lena. I saw him myself.”

“My sincerest condolences, Mrs. Walker.” Roger chimes, “I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling.”

In her state of shock, Lena can’t even acknowledge him. She sobs and wails clutching her gut.

Discomfort is evident on Roger’s face. He’s still not used to this part. He’s young. He was only just promoted to detective about six months ago. Roger hasn’t had much hardship growing up in Earnhardt. These death’s have really taken their toll on him. He can’t even look at Lena’s grief head on. I can’t blame him. It’s hard to watch. It always is, but Lena and I have known each other since high school. Seeing her like this…seeing Lyle this morning… It’s killing me, but I can’t show it. Not here. Not in front of her. It’s my job to figure out why this happened. To make sense of this tragedy.

Roger makes an excuse and with a last condolence, makes his way out of the house. I can see a pain in his eyes as he turns away from Lena. I wait until I hear the front door close before getting out of my chair. Lena’s lamentations echo through the kitchen as I kneel on the floor beside her.

I place my hand on her knee, the intimate gesture a remnant of a bygone era. “Lena, I promise you, I’m going to figure out why this happened. I know that nothing can ever make it right, but I hope to at least make it make sense.”

I sit with her for a few more minutes until she’s able to stop sobbing. She slips into a state of quiet shock, rocking in her chair. When I finally bring myself to leave her side, I go to meet Roger at the car. The second I exit the home, I whip out my phone and dial the office of a crisis counselor in the city. I apprise her of the situation and ask her to check in on Lena and her family. She assures me she’ll stop by later today. I hate to leave Lena like this, but if I’m going to get any answers for her, I have a lot of work to do.

I look up into the sky, watching a dark cloud roll in over the area. I take a deep breath before climbing back into the car with Roger. We drive off back toward town. Next stop: the Roberts’ residence.

It’s a Friday morning, so I don’t really expect the kids to be home, but it’s worth a shot. The Roberts family lives on their farmstead, so if not at the house, someone should at least be on the property. The drive over is uncharacteristically quiet. Normally, Roger’s a regular chatter box. I guess this one finally got to him.

“There’s people you can talk to, you know.” It’s me who breaks the silence. “Professionals.”

“You’re one to talk, Eddy.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

As we pull up outside the Roberts farm, a large man saunters out of the barn. He’s a younger man. Mid-thirties at the oldest.

“’Scuse me, sir.” Roger calls out. “We’re looking for a Mr. Roberts. Father of Nico Roberts. You him?”

“Julian? Nah, officer. But he is my brother.” The man leans toward us, wiping his hands on a dirty rag before reaching to shake ours. “Juni Roberts at your service. What can I do for y’all?”

“Mr. Roberts, we were hoping to speak to your brother and nephew about Lyle Walker. We understand he was over here last night.”

“Niece.”

“Sorry?”

“Nico. She’s my niece. Believe me, I don’t fully understand it, but it’s important to hi…to her. So, I’m making the effort.”

“Oh. Uh. I see.” I crack a little smile at Roger’s floundering. “Um. Well. We’ll keep that in mind. We—”

“About Lyle.” I interject. “Was he here last night?”

“Probably. Lyle’s over here all the time. He’n Nico are pretty close.”

“Was he here last night?”

“What’s goin’ on officers? Is Lyle in some kind of trouble?”

I hesitate for a moment before answering, gauging the man’s reaction before… “Lyle’s body was found this morning.”

“Oh, my God. Lyle’s dead?” He runs his hand through his hair, seemingly genuine shock evident in his features. “I…uh…Yeah. Lyle was here last night. Left kinda early. Seemed upset. Figured it was just teenager stuff. Do you know what happened?”

Roger answers, “We don’t have all the details just yet, but so far, it looks like a suicide.”

“I see. I can’t…” A flash of terror crosses his face. “Nico’s going to be devastated. I can’t believe this happened.”

“Mr. Roberts, I understand this news is shocking, but is Julian or Nico here right now?”

“N-No, Julian left this morning to pick up some parts in the city. Nico’s at school. Neither will be home for a while.”

“Alright,” I concede, swallowing my suspicion for now. I pull my card from my shirt pocket and hand it to him. “I’d like to speak with Nico. Please have her father call me when he gets home. Better yet, bring Nico by the station after school, if you can. One or both of us will be there.”

“I’ll, uh…do what I can.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Roberts.”

Roger spends the rest of the day doing paperwork. Exciting, I know, but it’s still an important part of the job. I, on the other hand, spend hours poring over the photos and files from this morning’s crime scene. I study each individual detail, comparing them to the other suicides. I wrack my brain for anything that could link the five deaths to one another. Different ages: two fourteen-year-olds, a seventeen, a thirteen and a sixteen-year-old. Three different schools: Two public, one private. No common activities. I can’t find any thread that connects these kids together.

So, why is it that I can’t shake that feeling? Why is my gut telling me it’s there?

As the hours pass, other officers trickle in and out of the station. I skip lunch to make some calls. First to Lyle’s school principal. Small town means small school. Only about three hundred kids from around the district, so it came as no surprise when the principal knew Lyle by name. Apparently, he’d gotten in trouble at school a few times a couple months ago. Suspended for punching another student. Defending his friends, according to the reports.

Around four-fifteen, a distraught teenager walks through the front door of the station. I see her only out of the corner of my eye at first. She speaks to the officer at the front desk for a moment before the clerk points the young girl to me. As she approaches, I realize this must be Nico Roberts. A petit thing, almost gaunt, a dark wig tied loosely at her shoulders, Nico crosses the room to my desk. I make no move, letting her approach me in her own time.

“Officer St. Claire?” She mumbles.

“Detective, actually, but yes. That’s me.” I try to keep my tone light, putting her more at ease. “What can I do for you?”

“My uncle Juni said you wanted to talk to me. Something about Lyle.” She seems nervous. Scared even. “He wouldn’t tell me what’s going on, just said I should talk to you.”

“I see. Please, sit.” I stand up, pulling a chair from a nearby table. “Miss Roberts, I’m so sorry I’m the one who has to tell you, but Lyle…We found his body this morning. Evidence suggests he took his own life.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t seem surprised. I understand you two were close.”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you two been friends?”

“Since fourth grade.”

“So, your uncle said that Lyle was at your house after school yesterday. That he was pretty upset when he left. Do you know what he was upset about?”

Nico shrugs one shoulder, nervousness creeping into her form. “I—I don’t know.”

“Are you sure? Miss Roberts, please, anything you tell me could be very helpful. I just want to figure out what happened to your friend.”

“I dunno. He just—Yeah, he was at my house, but I don’t—It was just school stuff, I guess.”

Nico’s body language tells me a very different story. She’s hiding something, but it’s hard to tell why. Her anxiety deepened when I asked about yesterday. “You won’t be in trouble for anything you tell me.”

Her foot begins tapping against the floor, hands wringing in her lap. She glances around the room as though looking for eyes watching. “I…I can’t.”

“Can’t?” I lower my voice, a hunch coming to mind. “What if we were to speak in private? There’s a questioning room down the hall. If you’re worried about being overheard, we can speak in there.”

The tension seems to ease slightly from her shoulders. She looks me in the eye for a second, presumably to judge my trustworthiness. She nods sharply in affirmation. I give her a gentle smile before leading her to Interrogation Room A. I hold the door open for her directing her inside.

“Go ahead and grab a seat, I’ll be right back.” After letting the door close, I head back into the bullpen. With Roger just getting back from a doctor’s appointment, I approach him at his desk. “Hey. I need you in the observation room. Nico Roberts is here in A. Can you sit in?”

“Don’t wanna be alone with her eh?” He jokes. He all but winks at me with his tone.

“Protocol, Rog. You know that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I’m just kidding.” Dejected.

Turning to walk away, “I can ask someone else if you’re too busy.”

“No. Nah. I got you.”

Roger follows me toward the interrogation room, entering the adjacent door. I catch a glimpse through the two-way glass at the nervous girl sitting inside. I pause for a second outside the room, my hand hovering over the knob. On a second thought, I head to the vending machines across the hall. I swipe my card and get a couple drinks and snacks to take in with me.

I head back to the interrogation room, cokes in hand. I set one of the cans and packs of candy in front of Nico before sitting across the metal table from her. “Go ahead.” I mutter, gesturing to the snack. Nico tears open the M&M packet, picking at the candies. “Alright, Nico. What is it you needed to say? Why was Lyle so upset last night?”

“He…He told me something that happened to him. Weeks, maybe months ago. Said someone hurt him. An adult. He was scared—”

“Hurt him? Hurt him how?”

Nico looked up at me for the first time since I entered the room. Anguish in her eyes. The look spoke volumes. Pain over her friend’s death, sure, but more pain for what her friend had to endure. It takes only a moment for me to realize what she doesn’t want to say.

“Oh. I see.” I concede.

This isn’t the first time in my career that I’ve handled an abuse case like this. Some twisted person taking advantage of kids. Using them to get their satisfaction and leaving the child in ruins.

“Nico, out in the pen, you seemed scared to tell me this. I’m glad you did, but I have to ask why?”

“Lyle… he talked about you sometimes. He trusted you. Said you know his mom.”

“That’s right. I do. And you can trust me too.”

She pauses for a moment, unsure if she should tell me the full story. Ultimately, the next four words from her mouth took me aback. “It was a cop,” she said. “The person who hurt Lyle was a cop.”

“Are you sure?” Reeling from that assertion. “A police officer? Here in Earnhardt?”

We speak for the next few minutes. Nico goes into as much detail as she’s able. When she’s finished, a couple of the details stand out to me. The most important being the timeline. According to Nico, the pervert stopped coming around about six months ago. But why would it stop? What changed?

I thank Nico for everything she’s given me and quickly escort her out of the station. As we exit the interrogation room, I notice the observation room door standing wide open. A hunch strikes, but I can’t act on it yet. I take Nico outside to her waiting uncle before going back to search for Roger.

He’s nowhere in the station. I rush to my computer, pulling up Roger’s ticketing and arrest reports when he was a patrol officer. Within minutes, I find Lyle’s name. Then to my horror, the names of three of the other victims. I had it. I had my connection.

****

I search for Roger all night, hitting up all of his haunts to no avail. Come morning, I get the call. His body has been found. When he knew he’d been caught, he put his shotgun in his mouth.

A note pinned to his chest said only, “I did not kill those kids.”

Sad part is, I believe it. I don’t think he killed them. I think he hurt them so badly they didn’t see any other option.

****

The whole situation turns over and over in my head. I can’t sleep. I barely eat. I visit Lena whenever I get a chance, which isn’t often. The images plague me. Night after night, I see my son going about his life. He eats, he sleeps, he does his homework. I see when he’s happy or when he’s hurting, and I can’t help but think about what could happen to him.

It haunts me. Driving me crazy. I see what these deaths have done to this sleepy town. It tortures me that it took so long to find such a simple connection. My own partner…

In a moment of weakness, I venture down to the local bar, and I drink. For the first time since my wife was killed, I take a drink. Then another. Then another. I drink until I can barely stand up. How am I supposed to be the person my son needs… the person to protect him from the world, when I can’t even see my own partner for who he is?

I get in my car and start to drive toward home. When I hit the straightaway, I feel my foot press hard into the accelerator. Heartbreaking, agonizing images dancing in my mind. I knew it was stupid. I knew it was reckless, but I couldn’t stop myself. Didn’t want to stop.

Suddenly, darkness.

****

I wake up days later to a beeping monitor next to my head, the tones’ pace matching the pounding in my skull.

As my eyes open to the dimly lit hospital room, I notice a young boy sleeping on a chair in the corner. As my vision clears, I realize it’s my son.

In that moment, the guilt overwhelms me. I realize what I did…what I could have done… I almost left him alone here. Almost destroyed the only family he has left.

All because of my own self-pity.

With a start, the boy wakes from his nap. Realizing I’m finally awake, his eyes light up. He rushes to my bed, wrapping his arms around my neck.

Tears well in my eyes, my only thought, “I’m so sorry.”

Short Story
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About the Creator

Kevin Barkman

Somehow, my most popular story is smut. I don't usually write smut. I did it once, and look what happened. Ugh.

Anyway, Hope you enjoy my work. I do pour my heart, soul, sweat and tears into it.

PS: Please read more than my smut story.I beg

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