thirty-five

Today I’m going to be a reporter, Nell told herself. She would be a witness soon enough, but now she was here only to be a journalist, to do what she knew how to do.

It was time for the perp walk—for Doug Shaun to be walked out of jail and into the waiting sheriff van to be taken to court. She did note that Sheriff Hickson had made sure the van was parked as far away from the building as was possible without being ridiculous. He clearly intended for the cameras to get as many shots as they wanted of Doug Shaun in prison orange. It was a gray day, with a hint of chill from the damp in the air.

There were cameras from all over. This story would go national—a rogue killer police chief who both murdered and framed people for the murders.

“Nell, good morning.” Harold Reed approached her.

“It’s a morning, Harold, and we’re alive. I can’t call it good,” Nell replied.

He gave her a nod, bringing her away from the pack. “Buddy will do the official press conference, but I thought you deserved an update.”

She nodded for him to continue.

“Doug Shaun was a clever man, but even he couldn’t resist taking trophies from his crimes. We only found things from what he did here, but we have some leads from the other places and will probably find more things in storage. Every other town where he murdered wants a piece of him.”

“I’ll bet they do. Will Buddy let him go?”

“Not until he’s tried here and put on death row. I’m sorry to say you were right about Tasha Jackson, the girl we found on the beach. Seems she was his first victim here.”

“How good is the case against him?”

“Pretty tight. We’ll see how strong the forensic evidence is. We do have his DNA from Rayburn, Joey, and Marion. We can test that.”

“Pretty arrogant of him to leave his DNA at the scene.”

“Yes, but he thought his would never be tested.”

“Has he confessed?”

“No, and I doubt he ever will. I guess you should know he’s claiming that Ronald Hebert was the killer of the kids, and that Kate Ryan killed Marion in a lovers’ quarrel over her having an affair with you.”

“Kate having an affair with me, or Marion?” Nell asked ironically.

“You and Marion, I think.”

“I have my children as witnesses that I haven’t been doing anything other than nagging them to do their homework and get to bed on time in the evenings,” Nell answered with a wry smile.

“No one, not even the sheriff who opposes all things feminist, believes that one.”

They were pulled from their conversation by a commotion at the jail entrance. It was time for Doug Shaun to have his moment of infamy.

“Thanks for the update, Harold,” Nell said.

“Just don’t quote me until I check with Buddy.” He slipped back through the crowd in search of his boss.

Nell turned her attention to the jail. A path was cleared, with deputies stationed every ten or fifteen feet. There was a large crowd, although the length of the walk thinned out the people. The media was out in droves, but also a number of the curious were there. Nell was startled to see Velma Gautier.

If it were my son, I’d probably be here, Nell realized. I’d want to see the evil that had shattered my life. Velma was in a shapeless coat, one that showed how much weight she’d lost over the last few weeks. She was across from Nell. I’ll talk to her afterward, after he’s walked past, Nell decided.

Several sheriff’s deputies came out, followed by men in suits who Nell thought might be FBI. Next was Sheriff Hickson, and following him were two burly deputies escorting Doug Shaun.

Nell felt a tinge of triumph as she noted the bruises on his face and his smashed-up nose. He looked straight ahead, as if this had nothing to do with him.

They brought him down the steps, the cameramen and women whirring to attention. Nell listened to the familiar click of shutters. She lifted the camera she’d brought, again reminding herself that she was a reporter today.

As Doug Shaun came closer, she willed herself not to step back. The fear was still there, and she had to tell herself that he was handcuffed between two deputies and there was nothing he could do to her. She brought the camera up to her face as he came near. She wanted some protection if he looked her way.

It was through the lens of the camera that she saw what happened next.

Velma Gautier stepped in front of him. From under her shapeless coat, she pulled out a shotgun and placed the barrel at his chest.

Nell didn’t hear what Velma said, but she caught that one moment with her camera, that second when Doug Shaun finally felt the fear he had given to so many others.

Velma pulled the trigger.

Nell stopped taking pictures.

She later learned that Velma had aimed just below his heart, whether by design or by fate. The blast hadn’t killed him instantly, but did cause too much damage for him to survive. It took several minutes for him to bleed to death.

Nell left the scene knowing she was no longer a reporter but once again a witness. She would write this story in first person.

From the jail, she went to the Crier office. Jacko’s empty desk was the first thing she saw. Dolan wasn’t there, but he had left a note saying he’d be back in an hour. She would talk to him then. As a friend.

She left the Crier and headed into town. Ron’s Flower Shoppe had reopened, run by a cousin.

“What do you have that would cheer up a friend who … is in the hospital?” Nell asked the woman behind the counter.

“Some irises and sunflowers?” she suggested. “Nice color combination.” Nell could see a resemblance in her to Ronald.

“That’d be great.”

The woman added softly, “You’re the first customer in here all day. Like the flowers are guilty.”

“No, the flowers aren’t guilty,” Nell said. She started to say neither was Ronald, but his cousin would know that soon enough. Right now Nell needed the common, simple things that could get her through the day. Like flowers for a friend.