Chapter
Twenty-Eight

Tally stared at the picture of Darrell Fisher’s mother and shook his head. She’d died in an accident, hadn’t she? Why did she look like the other victims? Was it coincidence, or was it something more?

While waiting for the pictures from Leon, he’d done an online search for Darrell R. Fisher. Unfortunately, he’d found a death certificate. Seemed Fisher had died not long after leaving Garden City. A little further research revealed he’d died in a motorcycle accident. Obviously, Darrell’s uncle had no idea his nephew had been dead all these years. Leon had told him the uncle was dying. For now, Tally decided to keep this information to himself. As a law enforcement officer, Leon would feel obligated to tell Fred his nephew was dead, and Tally couldn’t help but wonder if the old man’s death would be a little more peaceful without knowing the truth about Darrell.

Tally had all kinds of notes scattered across his desk, along with the B.E.K. file. Interesting, but there was no way to make sense of it all. He grabbed some index cards and began to write on them. Each fact as it came to him. Then he began to put the cards in order. What happened first? What had caused the emergence of a serial killer?

He put the card with Dorothy Fisher’s name on it at the top of his desk. Under that, he put a card with Tammy Rice’s name. Then Ann Barton’s. He stared at them for a while. This seemed to be the order in which they’d died. He picked up the first card and wrote Darrell Fisher on it. Then he wrote Warren Killian on Tammy Rice’s card. After staring at it for a few seconds, he added Barney Clevenger. Were these boys murderers? Had they really killed together? He picked up the card with Ann Barton’s name on it. He wrote Barney Clevenger on that. He put all three cards together and studied them. First of all, it was entirely possible that Dorothy Fisher had simply died in an accident. The police had investigated, and from what Tally could tell, they’d done a thorough job. Darrell was never suspected of hurting his mother. However, Darrell had been Barney’s friend, and authorities knew Barney was involved in killing Ann Barton and Tammy Rice. So Tally couldn’t rule out the notion that Dorothy’s death was something else. Part of this murderous arrangement. And what about Warren? He and Barney went to the same school. Barney knew Darrell; therefore it made sense to conclude that Warren probably knew Barney, too. A little research had uncovered some of Barney’s history. His mother had died of cancer when he was young. She’d hardly had time to twist him into a serial killer. And why was Ann buried in Dorothy’s grave? What was the significance? Why would Barney care about Dorothy Fisher? Unless he’d killed her, too. Maybe he and Darrell killed her together. That made the most sense.

So . . . Darrell and Barney kill Dorothy Fisher. Then they kill Ann? And what about Warren? Could all three of them be involved? Maybe B.E.K. had started out as a three-man team. But now Barney Clevenger was dead, so was Darrell, and Warren was living in Shelter Cove, Arkansas, where the only survivor of the Blue-Eyed Killer lived.

Tally picked up the card with Warren’s name on it. He was the only person still in play. Could there be more to him than met the eye?

Tally scribbled one more name on a card. Alan Gerard. He put the card next to the others. No matter what, Alan didn’t seem to belong. He picked up a file with information about Gerard. Gerard was born in Lincoln, Nebraska. He barely graduated high school, then moved to St. Louis when he was twenty-five. He’d spent almost fifteen years as a truck driver. A year before the attack on the O’Brien girls, he’d secured the job at the college. Tally couldn’t find any connection between him and Clevenger or Killian . . . at first. Then, on a hunch, he went back through some notes he’d made a long time ago. It only took him a few minutes to find what he was looking for. Three hours after fleeing the scene of Kelly O’Brien’s murder, Gerard was arrested and hauled down to the St. Louis P.D. There, on the list of arresting officers, was the name . . . Officer Warren Killian.

Gerard ordered Bobby to secure Kate and Tony’s plastic bonds together as a way to keep them in one place. Easier to control. Once he’d completed the task, Bobby stepped back and stared at the crazed serial killer. “I . . . I did it,” he said.

“Good. Now step outside,” Gerard hissed.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked. “He stays with us.”

“You’re not in charge, Mr. DeLuca.” Rather than being reassuring, Gerard’s smile made Tony’s stomach turn over.

“Tony . . .” Bobby looked petrified.

“He was only doing what I told him to do,” Tony said. He wanted to rush Gerard, but now that he was attached to Kate, he couldn’t risk putting her in the line of fire. “If you want to punish someone, punish me. Bobby’s innocent.”

Gerard laughed. His high-pitched voice was manic. He wasn’t in a place where reasoning with him could make a difference.

“Please, Gerard. Alan. Please . . .”

Gerard ignored Tony. Instead, he grabbed Bobby and shoved him outside. He followed after him, slamming the door behind him.

“Tony, we have to do something,” Kate cried.

“I know.” Tony gritted his teeth and began to pull on the plastic ties. But before he could break them, he heard the sound of a gunshot. And then silence.

“What have you done?” Tony asked when Gerard came back into the cabin. “Is he . . .”

“Let’s just say your friend Bobby won’t be a hindrance anymore.”

Kate gasped, and a surge of anger flowed through Tony. “I’m going to kill you, Gerard,” Tony said. “You have my word on that.”

Gerard closed the door behind him and grinned. “I don’t think you will, Mr. DeLuca. You’re not in charge here. I am. But let me tell you what you will do. You will watch as I complete my assignment with Miss Kate. This time it will end the way it should have the first time.”

“I’ll never let you touch her, you piece of human garbage,” Tony growled, his voice shaking with rage. “It won’t happen.”

“Oh, but it will. You see, even if I want you to watch, in the end, if you don’t, it’s not a big deal.” He turned his attention to Kate, who was strangely silent. “Your choice, Kate. Either you cooperate or I’ll kill him. What’s your choice?”

“Don’t hurt him,” Kate said quietly. “Please. Just don’t hurt him.”

Tony turned to look at her. “Kate, don’t be stupid. We’ll get out of this. Help is on its way. Don’t give up.”

She gazed into his eyes. “I’m not giving up, but I won’t allow you to die. Not if I can stop it from happening.” She took a deep breath, and a tear ran down her cheek. “I love you, Tony. You don’t need to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

Tony felt as if his heart had crawled up into his throat. She was probably speaking out of fear and would regret her words once they were off the mountain, but he was touched and deeply moved.

“We’ll be okay,” he said. “We’re going to make it through this.”

“Well, that was sweet,” Gerard said. “Really. But you won’t make it through this. I can guarantee it.” He put down his gun and took a large knife out of a pocket of his jacket. He ran it down his own cheek. “You have an appointment, Kate, and it’s time to keep it.”

Gerard ordered them to stand up. Although it was difficult with the zip ties holding them together, they managed to get to their feet.

“Now turn around.”

Gerard walked over to them as they faced the other way. Tony felt the muzzle of the gun against his head. Then Gerard cut the zip ties with his knife and separated them.

“You sit back down on the couch, Mr. DeLuca,” Gerard said. “You come with me, Kate.”

“No.” Tony wasn’t about to stand by and watch Kate be murdered by this madman. He had to find a way to stop this. Even if it was the last thing he’d ever do.

He swung around, intending to knock Gerard to the ground, but before he got the chance, he heard Gerard say, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

As he dove toward Gerard, Tony heard a shot ring out.

Leon followed Linda into Fred Fisher’s house. Although he felt like nothing more than a pack mule carrying supplies, he was happy to know that Fred would soon be living in better conditions.

“I’m going to need some time in your kitchen,” Linda told Fred, who seemed overwhelmed by the people invading his home.

Leon was happy to see that Fred had changed out of his bathrobe and underwear into slacks and a shirt. He’d even run a comb through his hair.

“Best if we get out of the way, Fred,” Leon said as he followed Linda to the kitchen. She began moving things off of Fred’s kitchen table and instructed Leon to put everything down.

“I need to clean the refrigerator before I put food in there,” she whispered to her husband. Then she stepped out into the hallway and waved three other women from the church into the kitchen. Leon was pleased to see that none of the women appeared to be repelled by the mess and the smell. In fact, one woman, Dawn Reed, was talking to Fred as if they were old friends. The smile on Fred’s face made Leon think this intervention was going to work. Dawn was the kind of person who could make an angry mountain lion lie down and purr like a kitten. She was a godsend in this situation.

“Fred, we need to get out of here for a while,” Leon said as Dawn passed him in the hallway. She winked at him, and he smiled at her. Thank God for Christians who took the commandment to love your neighbors seriously.

For just a second, a look of uncertainty flashed across Fred’s face. But Dawn’s laughter coming from the kitchen seemed to wash away his apprehension.

“Let’s sit outside,” Leon said. “It’s going to be a nice evening.”

Fred nodded. “Okay.”

As Fred headed for the front door of the small house, Leon noticed he seemed to have trouble walking. Leon stepped in front of him and opened the door. He wanted to ask Fred if he needed help, but he knew the old man’s pride would probably keep him from accepting it. Fred held on to the doorframe and then grabbed the arm of one of the lawn chairs on his front porch. Leon breathed a sigh of relief when he finally sat down. Leon pulled up the other lawn chair and sat down next to him.

It was late afternoon, and a light breeze wafted past them. Leon loved Kansas in the spring, and he breathed in the fresh air. A real treat after being inside the smelly house.

“So did you hit anything when you shot at the sky?” Fred asked suddenly.

It took Leon a moment to figure out what he was talking about. “I’m not sure, Fred,” he answered slowly. “Ever since we found Ann Barton’s body, something’s been bothering me. I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“What’s that, Sarge?”

Leon took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’ve been trying to figure out why Ann was buried with Dorothy. What’s the connection?”

Fred grunted. “Not sure there is one, Sarge. You might be looking too hard.”

“Just seems . . . odd somehow.” He shook his head. “We have three boys with dead mothers. One of the boys is dead. One is missing, and the other is . . . well, I’m afraid he might be going after the only woman who ever survived an attack by the Blue-Eyed Killer.”

Fred raised his eyebrows. “Who are you talkin’ about?”

“Warren. Warren Killian. Tammy Rice’s son.”

Fred snapped his fingers. “That’s it. That’s the guy who came by here and asked about Darrell. I didn’t make the connection.”

“Warren Killian was here?”

Fred nodded. “Yep, a few days ago. As I said, there was somethin’ about him I didn’t trust. That’s why I didn’t tell him about Darrell’s box. I’ll bet a part of me recognized him. I just couldn’t remember him well enough to realize who he was.”

“And he was asking about Darrell?”

“Yeah. He wanted to know if I knew where Darrell was. I told him I didn’t. Hadn’t seen him for years. Ever since he left town.” Fred shook his head. “He didn’t seem to believe me.”

“Did he ask about Barney Clevenger?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t recognize the name. Like I told you, I only knew him by his nickname. Stinky.”

“And Warren didn’t know the nickname? Even though he went to school with him?”

“Didn’t seem to. They were a couple of years apart, you know. Darrell and Stinky left town before they graduated. Makes sense that Warren didn’t know too much about them.”

Leon turned this information over in his head. “So the only thing he learned from you is that you didn’t know where Darrell was?”

“Yeah. He asked some questions about Dorothy’s death, but I told him I didn’t want to talk to him about that.”

“Fred, is there any possibility Darrell killed his mother?”

“Nah. No possibility whatsoever.”

Leon studied Fred for a moment. “But you said Darrell was cold-hearted. And that Dorothy was a bad mother. You don’t think he could have had something to do with her death?”

Fred shook his head and looked up at the sky. “Look at those clouds. Never have seen clouds like Kansas clouds. So white and fluffy.”

Leon didn’t know whether to push Fred a little bit or let it go. Maybe it didn’t matter after all these years. Darrell was gone. Might even be dead. “Yeah, they’re great. Sometimes I like to sit outside and just watch the clouds. Relaxes me.”

“Yeah, me too.” Fred turned his head and looked at Leon. “Darrell didn’t kill Dorothy, Sarge. I’m sure of it.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because I did it. I killed my sister.”