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AMES SAT IN ONE OF the four kitchen chairs while Sharon McKenan served him coffee. The kitchen—as well as the rest of the home—was sparsely furnished, but everything was spotless. She must have spent hours each day cleaning the place from top to bottom. She obviously suffered from obsessive compulsive disorder.
He received information from Marlena that the State ran the license plate of the burned vehicle. The vehicle was registered to Benjamin Jackson, husband to Leslie Jackson. That information alone did not prove the body in the car at the time of the fire was the Jackson girl, but Sharon seemed convinced.
Ames poured cream into his coffee and stirred it slowly. “I’m sorry about your friend,” he said.
“Yes,” Sharon said. She stood, leaning against the kitchen sink, her arms folded across her chest.
“How well did you know Mrs. Jackson?”
“We weren’t best friends, but I liked her a lot. We met only a couple times in person. We mostly talked on the radio.”
“How often did you talk on the CB?” Ames asked.
“At least four or five times a week. Late at night, after Benny had gone to bed drunk.”
“What did you two talk about?”
Sharon looked at him and said, “Girl stuff mostly. She told me about her marriage and how difficult it had been. We talked about her problems with her husband. She always wanted advice about handling the baby.”
“You two shared some pretty intimate stuff,” Ames said.
“Yes.”
“Did Mrs. Jackson ever tell you about her husband being violent toward her?”
Sharon laughed. “Sorry about that, but if you have to ask, you obviously don’t know anything about Leslie and Benny.”
“Please enlighten me,” Ames said.
“Benny was a real piece of work. Yes, he was violent. He’s the reason why Leslie hasn’t come to see me lately.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, last month I had this barbecue in my back yard. I invited some other couples that were close to me and my late husband. They brought their kids and we had a good time. But I made the mistake of inviting Leslie and Benny and then the party went downhill fast.”
“Something Benny did?”
“Everything Benny did,” Sharon said. “From the very start I knew he was going to be trouble. He walked into the yard and was eying everyone, sizing them up. His comments and attitude offended everyone. When he put himself into conversation, slowly people started to find some excuse just to get away from him.”
“Was he violent toward anyone?” Ames asked.
“At first, his comments were just annoying. Then he started putting people down with his insults. When Leslie tried to interfere, he would turn his fury on her and cut her down. She was so embarrassed. She didn’t know these people and didn’t realize they felt sorry for her and there was nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“You said at first he was just annoying. So, when did it escalate to something more?”
“When he started in on Leslie, one of my husband’s former co-workers, Joe, asked Benny to chill out, have a drink and relax, you know. It was a harmless suggestion, just trying to cool things down a bit. Benny got all flustered and threw a punch at Joe. The rest of the guys restrained Benny and asked him to leave. Poor Leslie followed behind him as filth poured out of his mouth. She was so ashamed. She won’t come back here again.”
“Did he make any threats toward you or any of your guests?”
“Not really. He seemed more upset with Leslie for bringing him to such a “lame ass” party with a bunch of “pansy fucks.” Pardon me, but those were his words.
“This was how long ago?” Ames asked.
“About a month ago.”
“Did Mrs. Jackson mention anything to you later about what happened when she got home?”
“You mean did Benny beat the shit out of her for hanging out with pansy fucks? No, she didn’t ever mention it. She was too embarrassed. She didn’t even talk to me after that until the following week. So, I don’t know what happened.”
“Do you suspect that anything did happen?”
“I don’t know. I mean, Benny had hit her before for less, so I would think this would have been a good enough excuse as any to pound her.”
Ames cleared his throat and sipped some of the coffee Sharon offered him. He considered his next question for a moment and then and asked, “Do you think Benny had anything to do with what happened to Mrs. Jackson?”
“This may surprise you, but as bad as he was to her, I don’t think he killed her.”
Ames was not too surprised by her comment. He already had a handle on the type of guy that was Benny Jackson.
“He was a blowhard, talked the talk but never walked the walk.”
“That’s part of it,” Sharon said. She rubbed the palms of her hands against her jeans as if trying to wipe away something nasty. She turned to the sink and started washing her hands. Over her shoulder she said, “Benny is a lazy son-of-a-bitch with some bad habits. He likes to drink and smoke and place bets at the OTB. He misses work often. Leslie mostly supports his habits. With her out of the picture, he wouldn’t be able to maintain his lifestyle for long.”
“So, you think she was worth more to him alive?”
“Definitely.”
“Is that the only reason you’d dismiss him as a suspect?”
“Just a gut feeling,” she said as she continued to wash her hands. She adjusted the water so that it came out hotter.
He sipped more coffee then cleared his throat again. His gut feeling told him that Sharon McKenan was not telling him everything she knew. Ames asked, “I had a message in my office that you may possibly have some information for me? I’m guessing that you know something more.”
“Yes.” One hand went to her mouth and she started to chew on her nail. She turned off the water and faced him.
He waited for her to go on. After several seconds of silence, he said, “Ms. McKenan? You have something you need tell me?”
“I wanted to talk to you in private because I’m afraid that word might get out that I know something. That’s why I didn’t come to your office. I don’t want that psycho to come looking for me. If you can’t guarantee you’ll keep my name totally out of this, I won’t help you.”
“Are you talking about Benny?” he asked. Now he was confused.
“No,” she said. “I already told you I don’t think he did this. And I wouldn’t be afraid of him. He’s just a big bully.”
“Mrs. McKenan, do you know something about what happened to Leslie Jackson?”
“Are you going to keep my name out of this?”
“I can’t promise you that. If . . . when we catch whoever did this, you may be called on to tell what you know in court. What I can guarantee is your name won’t get out until then.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I have nothing to tell you then.” She moved from the sink and started collecting the dishes from the table. She took his cup of coffee and the cake dishes and put them into the sink. She turned on the water and started to wash them.
“Ms. McKenan, this is your chance to help your friend. Are you going to let this guy get away with what he did to her?”
“I have children to worry about.”
“Then even more reason to help. Let me keep your kids safe by getting a killer off the street.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to guarantee anyone’s safety.”
“Look Mrs. McKenan. I’m going to be straight with you. This man killed two girls and at this point you’re the only lead that I have. I need your help here.”
“It’s not my fault you’re not doing your job, not keeping us safe.”
He felt the hot sting of a slap across his face, although the blow had not been physical. He knew it was the popular opinion of the people of this township that he was not doing his job. He didn’t think it would really bother him as much as it had. Now to hear it said to his face was shocking.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mrs. McKenan. You can think what you want of me, however, the fact remains that a killer is out there, and he will kill again. I’m sure of that much. When he does kill again, you remember you could have helped get that sick man off the streets.”
She said nothing.
He stood, fixed his hat on his head, and shifted his gun to a more comfortable position. When she did not respond he said, “You have a nice day, Mrs. McKenna.”
He turned to go. He got as far as the front door. He halted as she called for him. He turned to face her. She was standing at the threshold between the kitchen and the living room, rubbing her hands against the legs of her jeans.
Without meeting his gaze, she said, “I only heard his voice. I’m sure that’s not what you wanted to hear.”
“It’s a start.” He walked to the sage green sofa, the only piece of furniture in the living room and sat down. He motioned for her to sit next to him.
She moved toward him and sat down quickly, folding her hands in her lap. She spoke quickly, too. “I was up late that night . . . putting things in order because this house is just always so messy when the kids come home from school. I heard her on the CB. She was calling for anyone who was out there, because she just wanted someone to talk to.”
“When you say ‘she’ you’re referring to Leslie Jackson?”
“Yes, but we called her Sunshine, because of her personality. She was the most pleasant little thing, on most days. She’d give you the shirt off her back if she thought it would do any good. Anyway, she was calling for anyone to talk to, because she was scared—”
“Scared of what?”
“I’m getting there,” she said impatiently. “She was stuck in the rain, she was afraid to drive, so she pulled the car over. She was calling on anyone just to have someone to talk with. I answered, and we talked. She had to go out to get her baby some food,” she lied, obviously trying to hide the fact that Sunshine had left her young child in the care of a worthless man because she felt like her life was just one big toilet bowl and she was about to be flushed. “Benny was angry because the baby was crying. If she hadn’t gone to the store, he would have thrown her an ass kicking.
“Anyway, we were talking, and I was teasing her about things in the woods and she was acting upset. Then suddenly, she gets quiet, so I ask her what’s wrong. She says someone was behind her, in another car. So, I say, ‘Maybe it is a good Samaritan that wants to help’ and she says, ‘the car pulled up without any lights on.’
“So anyway, she says she’s even more scared, because no one is getting out of the car and then suddenly, she stops talking. So, I’m calling out for her and calling out for her. I thought she was playing a joke on me now, because I was teasing and scaring her earlier.
“But she never answers. After about five minutes—I’m still calling out for her—this voice gets on the CB and says something like “Bitch Number Two is dead’ and then there’s just static again.”
“Bitch Number Two?” he asked.
“Uh-huh. I have no idea what that meant. Was there someone else in the car besides Leslie?”
“No,” Ames said, although now he wondered what might lay further back into those woods. There wasn’t any evidence that pointed to another victim, but the killer’s comment ignited the fireball in the pit of his stomach. This was confirmation that it was the same man who killed Melanie Thornton. She may have been Bitch Number One.
He said, “Did you recognize the voice?”
“No,” she said, and he felt his heart drop in his chest. He thought she’d left the message because she knew who the killer was but was afraid to identify him.
“Can you remember how the man sounded?” he asked. “Anything that stood out about him? Anything that could point us in the right direction?”
“Well,” her brow furrowed, and her eyes squinted. “He sounded young. I don’t know what else to say about it.”
“Young?”
“Yes, like a teenager, you know?”
“Do you think you would recognize his voice if you heard it again?”
“I guess.”
With his stomach on fire, he stood and said, “Okay, Mrs. McKenan. Here is my card. My office number is on the front and my home on the back. If you’re on the CB again and you hear the voice, I’d like you to call me immediately. I can try and track him that way.”
She took the card and put it in the back pocket of her tight jeans and unconsciously began to rub her hands against her thighs. “Okay. Promise my name won’t be in the papers?” she asked.
“For now, your name will not be associated with the case.”
“Good enough.”
“Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. McKenan. You’ve been helpful. I’ll keep in touch,” he said, and opened the door. He stepped out onto the porch and Sharon grabbed his arm.
“I’m sorry about what I said in the kitchen. It’s just everyone’s scared, and people talk in small towns like this.”
“I know. People talk. There’s nothing can be done about that. Have a nice evening, Mrs. McKenan.” He tipped his hat, walked down the front step to the curb and got into his Expedition.
He watched her go back into the house. He was more than a little disappointed with the information she’d provided. Another dead end and he was still dead in the water. With a heavy heart, he drove to see Benny Jackson.