The Devil, the Witch and the Whore (The Deal Book 1) Read online

  Again, my voice trails off. If Mikey Cane had aimed slightly differently, or if I'd taken even half a step further forward, I'd have been the one who got shot, and it would most likely have been our front door that Buddy would have knocked on just now. Emma would be listening to him explain how I'd died during an incident at Dodderidge Farm, and then she'd have to tell Ramsey. I'd have left my family in pieces.

  “Come here.”

  Suddenly Emma puts her arms around me, holding me tight. I want to tell her I'm fine, to make a joke and head to the kitchen for a beer, but I feel like I'm not even myself anymore. It's almost as if I'm on auto-pilot. Buddy's whiskey helped steady my nerves, even if my mind is still racing.

  “You couldn't have done anything for Gary,” she says after a moment, hugging me even tighter. “It was just terrible, terrible luck, and an awful tragedy, but you can't blame yourself. Do you hear me, James?” She pulls back and looks at me, as if she's searching for something in my eyes. “I swear to God, I'm not going to let you blame yourself for what happened to Gary. You'll end up losing your mind if you go down that path, and I refuse to watch that happen.”

  “We got the killer,” I whisper. “You don't need to worry about that. We got him.”

  “That's good. Were you there when he was caught?”

  “He wasn't caught,” I reply. “He was shot. He's dead.”

  I pause for a moment, thinking back to that moment in the forest. And to Buddy's insistence that we should keep the truth to ourselves.

  “Were you there when he was shot?” Emma asks cautiously.

  “Not really,” I reply, figuring I should spare her the details. She'd only worry if she knew how close I'd come to death, and I want to protect her. “It was a joint effort. The whole team, you know? Buddy was the one who took him down.”

  “You should get some sleep,” she continues, stepping back. “I heard it all happened up at Dodderidge Farm. Does that mean...”

  “Liam survived,” I reply. “He's been taken off for checks, but the rest of his family is dead.”

  “That poor boy,” she whispers, as fresh tears roll down her face. “What causes someone like Mikey Cane to go off the rails like that? He always seemed like a nice boy. A bit of a loner, maybe, but being a loner isn't necessarily anything to worry about. I know he spent a lot of time out in the forest at Devil's Lookout, but that's hardly a crime. Why would he suddenly turn around and murder his parents?”

  “He did more than just murder them,” I tell her. “He...”

  My voice trails off for a few seconds as I remember the sight of Mrs. Cane on the bed. Her eyes were wide open, almost bulging from the sockets, and there was blood all over her legs and crotch.

  “Never mind,” I whisper.

  “What did he do to them, James?”

  “It doesn't matter. It's not something we should be talking about.”

  “But why would he do it?” she continues. “I just don't get it.”

  “I don't know,” I tell her, and again I figure it's best to withhold a few of the details. It'd only worry Emma if I told her about all the things Mikey said in his final moments, and I know she has a tendency sometimes to take all that mystical crap a little too seriously. If she knew about Mikey's claims, about there supposedly being people in the tunnels, she'd just start worrying about the whole town. “I guess sometimes people just crack,” I continue, “and they can't go back to seeing the world the way it is.”

  “We should pray for Liam.”

  “Sure. Whatever. If it makes you feel better.”

  “Is that whiskey on your breath?”

  “Just a little. Buddy gave it to me.” I wait for her to make a joke, but she seems worried. “We all had a shot,” I add finally, hoping that a little lie will make everything better. “Relax. If you'd seen and heard what I saw and heard tonight, you'd have taken a whiskey too.”

  “But you're okay?”

  I nod.

  “You're not upset?”

  “Do I look upset?”

  “I guess not. I was worried when you walked in the door, but you seem fine. Go up to bed. I'll join you in a moment.”

  We talk for a little while longer, mostly about Liam but also about how the whole town will have to deal with the tragedy, and then Emma goes to grab a glass of water while I make my way up the stairs. It's already almost dawn, and I know I only have a few hours before I have to get back to the station and help with the clean-up. There'll be teams out at the farm, and at the spot in the forest where Mikey died, and I'm sure there's going to be a mountain of paperwork. And that's even before the investigations that'll inevitably get set up, and all the press interest.

  “Don't forget,” Buddy's voice whispers in the back of my mind. “Mikey Cane was going to kill you. That's why I shot him. Got it?”

  He's right.

  That's the story we should tell. Anything else would just become too complicated for people to understand. It's not exactly a complicated lie, and as I head toward the bedroom, I already feel pretty confident that I can make it stick.

  “Daddy?”

  Stopping, I look through a nearby open door, but all I see is darkness. Stepping closer, I peer into the room as my eyes adjust to the darkness, and finally I spot a figure sitting up on her bed.

  “Hey Ramsey,” I whisper, slipping into the room. “It's still a little early. You should be asleep.”

  “I'm going to go play with Leanne later,” she replies, before hesitating for a moment. “Daddy, have you been at work all night?”

  I should leave her alone and let her rest, but I want to give her a hug. Heading over to her bed, I sit next to her, and she immediately moves closer and puts her arms around me.

  “You smell funny,” she says, sounding tired.

  “I do?”

  “Like the forest. Have you been outside tonight?”

  “I have.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “Oh, this and that.”

  “Like what?”

  I can't help smiling. My little girl is always so curious and inquisitive.

  “It's complicated,” I tell her.

  “Why's it complicated?”

  “It just is.”

  “But why?”

  “You'll understand some day.”

  “Why?”

  “Why will you understand?”

  “Why can't you tell me about it now? Why do I have to wait until it's some other day?”

  She pulls back and looks at me, and I swear she looks way too smart for a six-year-old.

  “Am I too little at the moment?” she asks.

  Before I can answer, I think back to all the things Mikey Cane said while he was trying to provoke me. In my mind's eye, I see him storming into the room and grabbing Ramsey, and I swear that for a fraction of a second I even hear her screaming. I force the image from my thoughts, but I know it'll be back soon enough. In fact, I'm starting to wonder whether I'll ever get those ideas out of my mind at all.

  A moment later, I feel a ripple of pain in my belly.

  “Are you okay, Daddy?”

  “Of course,” I reply, forcing a smile. “Why wouldn't I be?”

  “You look sad.”

  “I do?”

  She nods, and right now she has that very serious expression that only a six-year-old can pull off.

  “How about now?” I ask, pulling a silly face.

  She stares at me, and then she nods. “You still look sad.”

  “Well, I'm not sad,” I continue, kissing her on the top of the head before getting to my feet and heading back to the door before she has a chance to ask any more questions. I know it's dumb, but I feel like I need to shower and wash my clothes so I don't bring any more of the night's events into the house. I need to draw a line under what happened, and then I need to move on. “There's no need to worry about me.”

  “But you're sad. How can you sleep when you're sad?”

  “I'm not sad, sweetheart.”

&
nbsp; “Yes you are.”

  “Daddy's just tired.”

  “Daddy needs to sleep,” Emma says, joining me in the doorway as we both turn and look back at Ramsey.

  “Can I come into the big bed with you?” she asks, with a hint of hope in her voice.

  “You know the answer,” Emma whispers to me.

  “Is it worth even trying to say no?” I continue, and Ramsey immediately leaps out of her own bed and rushes to join us. Squeezing through, she races to our room.

  “Are you sure you're okay?” Emma asks.

  I hesitate for a moment, before nodding “I'm fine.”

  “Good.” She kisses me on the cheek, before taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom, where Ramsey is already settled in the middle of the bed. “You need to sleep, and then everything'll be okay again. Sometimes bad things happen in the world, but the rest of us have to keep going. Mikey Cane obviously had some kind of serious problem.”

  “He was insane,” I tell her. “Deeply, seriously insane. If you'd heard some of the things he claimed right before he died... He was beyond help. Buddy thinks the same thing.”

  “And you should always trust Buddy,” she replies, before kissing me again. “Everyone in this whole town knows that Buddy's a smart guy. Now go to bed. I'll lock up downstairs. Everything's fine now.”

  Heading over to the bed, I sit next to Ramsey, but after a moment I realize that she's staring at me.

  “What is it?” I ask. “Pumpkin? What's wrong?”

  She stares at me for a moment longer. “You're not okay, Daddy, are you?” she says finally. “You're really upset about something.”

  I reach over and tousle her hair. “Didn't you hear what Mommy said just now?” I ask, forcing a smile. “Everything's fine. There's nothing to worry about, and we just need a little more shut-eye. Deal?”

  Instead of answering, she continues to stare at me. Maybe I'm crazy, but I swear, I don't think she believes that I'm fine at all. Still, after a moment she snuggles close and puts an arm around me, and I guess she's satisfied for now. At least she has no idea about people like Mikey. If I can help it, she'll never be exposed to that kind of madness. After all, anyone who rambles on about devils and witches under the forest is clearly insane and beyond help. My little girl is pure and innocent, and I want to keep her that way as much as possible.

  That's why I do the job I do. To make the world a better place for my little girl. At the end of the day, that's all that really matters.

  Thirty-Seven

  Sheriff James Kopperud

  Today

  “There were small traces of cloth fiber in this wound,” Doctor Shaw explains as she uses the tip of a scalpel to indicate the bloodied stump of Leanne's left arm. “My best guess is that she tried to stop the bleeding somehow. Since the same isn't true of any of her other injuries, I can only assume that it was her left arm that was severed first. Now, if that's the case, I'm also wondering whether -”

  She stops suddenly.

  “James? Are you sure you're up to this?”

  “Keep going,” I whisper, unable to take my eyes off the bare, bloodied torso.

  “We can do it another time,” she continues. “You look pale.”

  “I'm fine.”

  “But -”

  “I'm fine!” I hiss, turning to her. “I've seen dead bodies before! I'm not going to go weak at the knees and crumple! Just get on with it!”

  She hesitates, before looking back down at the torso.

  “The major cuts were made when the girls was still alive,” she continues. “Obviously she would have lost a lot of blood when the left arm was severed, but I believe she remained alive for several more minutes at least, until the head was removed.”

  As if she feels the need to illustrate that point, she moves the scalpel tip up to the stump of the neck.

  “She was alive when she was decapitated?” I ask.

  She nods. “I believe so.”

  I stare at the stump for a moment longer, before turning and looking over at the next trolley. All I can see is a set of white cloths, but I know Leanne's severed head is hidden in one of those containers. I can't believe I didn't recognize her when I saw the body the first time, but I guess it's been several years since I even met the girl. I remember her as a very sweet, very polite kid, and for a while she and Ramsey were thick as thieves, always running around together.

  “Is it true that people can retain consciousness for a few seconds after they've been decapitated?” I ask finally.

  When Doctor Shaw doesn't answer, I turn to her.

  “Well? Is it true?”

  “It's possible,” she replies cautiously. “There are reports of blinking eyes in some cases. There are older claims of heads talking and even laughing for thirty, maybe sixty seconds, but those are impossible to verify. I wouldn't put too much stock in them.”

  “But there's a chance that she knew,” I continue, heading around the table and over to the next trolley. The last thing I want is to see Leanne's head again, but at the same time I feel as if I need to force myself to confront the awful reality of what we're dealing with here. I hesitate for a moment, before moving one of the sheets away and looking down at the girl's open-eyed face.

  She's staring straight at me.

  Feeling a shudder pass through my chest, I move to one side, just to make sure that her eyes don't follow me. They don't, of course. Why would I even think something like that?

  My phone starts buzzing in my pocket, but I figure it can wait.

  “We found evidence of a struggle out at the diner on Trelawney Road,” I say finally, still looking down at Leanne's face. “The timeline's coming together now. She was at a cabin near Pellow's Peak, out by mile-marker eighteen, and then she seems to have made her way to the diner, which is where she was killed. Whatever happened to her, it must have been a sustained assault lasting several hours at least. If the timeline is correct, and if she made her way to the diner alone, it seems she might have actually escaped from this maniac for a short period before she was recaptured.”

  “What about her cellphone?”

  “We can't get a trace on it. Must be off.”

  My phone stops buzzing, but then it starts again a moment later. I check the screen and see that Hinch is trying to call me, but I'm not in the mood for another of his rambling conversations about broken coffee machines. I reject the call, before turning my phone off and slipping it away. I can check in with him as soon as I'm done here.

  “There's absolutely no evidence of a sexual assault,” Doctor Shaw explains after a moment. “I know it's not much of a saving grace, but at least we know she didn't endure anything of that nature.”

  “Then what the hell did he do this for?” I ask. “Why did he track her down, fight with her, then track her down again, cut her up while she was still alive, and then toss her body parts out in the middle of the forest like they were trash?”

  “There is one other thing I noticed,” Doctor Shaw says, heading around to the other side of the trolley and pulling another sheet aside, revealing a clean white box filled with the girl's intestines. “I could be wrong, but I think perhaps her intestinal tract was subjected to some form of postmortem examination.”

  I cover Leanne's face and head around to take a closer look at the box of intestines.

  “See here?” Doctor Shaw asks, indicating a ruptured section with her scalpel. “And here? And here too? Small splits, approximately finger-sized, created at least a couple of hours after she died. I know it must sound crazy, but it's almost as if the killer was searching for something.”

  “In her intestines?”

  She shrugs. “I'm just telling you what it looks like. It's your job to figure out why it might've happened.”

  I open my mouth to ask if the ruptures could have been caused by a wild animal, or simply during the cutting of the corpse, but suddenly I hear a voice in the back of my mind. A voice that echoes through the years from a dark night in the forest.<
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  “I thought she had the marker,” Mikey told me, just seconds before he died, when he was describing the way he'd mutilated his mother's body. “I had to be sure!”

  It could all be coincidence, but I'm still sticking to my belief that there aren't likely to be many coincidences in this case.

  And that's when I remember the scarred cut on Mikey's hand.

  “You mentioned a carved section of flesh,” I whisper, before turning to Doctor Shaw. “You said there was something on her hand.”

  Before she can reply, the phone starts ringing in her office.

  “Just let me get that,” she replies, removing her plastic gloves as she heads over to the door. “But yes, there's a pattern on her left hand. It seems to have been made some time after she died. That's the next thing I was going to show you.”

  Instead of waiting for her to come back, I make my way around the trolley and start lifting sheets, searching for the box that contains Leanne's severed arms. I wince as I see other body parts instead, but I keep hunting until finally I locate the arms, at which point I immediately start checking her hands. Sure enough, on her left hand, there's a carved pattern of jagged lines arranged inside a rough circle. The flesh is discolored and it's hard to make out the pattern with any degree of certainty, but I think it might be the same as the mark I saw on Mikey Cane's hand all those years ago.

  “I saw the witch in her prison of wood!” he told me at the time. “I was chased by the devil, but I had protection!”

  “Protection against what?” I mutter, tilting my head to get a better look at the marking on Leanne's hand.

  Grabbing a piece of paper, I quickly jot down a rough copy of the lines and circle.

  “It's for you,” Doctor Shaw says suddenly, appearing in the doorway.

  “Whoever it is, tell them I'll call back.”

  “It's someone from your office,” she explains. “He says it's extremely urgent.”

  “Tell him I'll -”

  “He says they've found another girl.”