The Night Killer Part 3

That sounded to Diane like fuel for anger, and a possible motive. She took a deep breath as they pulled up in front of the house. It was dark and looked just as foreboding as the last time she saw it.

"You don't have to worry none," said Deputy Conrad. "He won't try nothing with me here."

"What about his dogs?" asked Diane.

"Them's huntin' dogs. They won't hurt you," he said.

Diane saw her SUV. It was where she'd left it. The door was still open, but the tree on top of the hood was gone. So was the skeleton.

Just as they were about to get out of the Jeep, the lights came on in the house.

Chapter 7

"Looks like we woke them up," said Diane.

She had managed to slip her backbone back into place, so she was not nearly as freaked as she thought she might be when the lights came on in the house.

"Looks like it," said the deputy.

Diane and Deputy Conrad got out of his Jeep and walked to her SUV. The dome light wasn't on. It automatically turned itself off after a period of time to save the battery. Diane climbed in. The seat was wet from the rain. The key was still in the ignition. She tried to start the engine. It sputtered a little and she looked at the fuel gauge. Empty. She'd had almost a full tank when she left.

"Well, son of a b.i.t.c.h," she said.

"What?" Deputy Conrad was standing next to her just outside the vehicle. "Something wrong?"

"They drained my gas tank." Diane didn't know why she was surprised, but she was. The sheer effrontery.

Conrad shook his head. "Slick's got a bad habit of siphoning folks' gas. I've talked to him about it more than once. Look, it'd be best not to make him give it back. He'd doctor it with sugar before he gave it to you. I've got some in a can in my Jeep."

"Well, h.e.l.l," she whispered to herself as the deputy went back to his Jeep.

She looked over to the pa.s.senger side. The contents of her purse had been dumped into the seat. Fortunately, there wasn't much in it for them to take. The really important things she always kept on her person. Her lipstick was gone, as was a small mirror. So was her small Swiss army knife and first-aid kit she carried in her purse. She stuffed the contents back into the purse and opened her glove compartment. It was empty except for papers. No flashlight, tire gauge, or seat-belt knife. All the small change was gone out of her ashtray.

"Jeez, these people are rats," she whispered.

"Wha'd you say?"

Diane looked up into the face of Slick Ma.s.sey leaning into the car. She was p.i.s.sed off enough that when she looked at him again she didn't have the fearful response that she a.s.sumed she would.

"Nothing for your ears," said Diane. "Where are the contents of my purse and glove compartment?"

"Whataya talking about?" he said.

"She's accusin' us of stealing from her." It was a hard-edged female voice that Diane guessed to be the girlfriend's.

"Folks, let the woman get out of her vehicle."

Diane was glad to hear Deputy Conrad's voice.

Slick stepped back and Diane got out. It was starting to feel like a replay of a few hours ago. The only light they had was from her dome light she'd switched on and the deputy's Jeep lights. Everything was in high contrast and rather surreal.

"That's the thanks we get for trying to help," said the female.

"This is Tammy Taylor," said Deputy Conrad, nodding in the direction of a woman still in shadows. "I put a couple-three gallons in your tank. That should get you to a gas station."

"Thank you," said Diane.

Diane eyed Slick. He sported a black eye, and it took Diane a second to realize that she was the one who gave it to him. It gave her some mild satisfaction. The rest of Slick was not much to look at either. He had grubby clothes, torn, dirty jeans that, Diane realized, could have been purchased that way some places for a lot of money. His short-sleeved plaid s.h.i.+rt was half tucked in and half out, and only a couple of b.u.t.tons were b.u.t.toned, revealing a bare chest with spa.r.s.e hair and a bad tattoo of some sort of animal. He had shoulder-length, stringy blond hair with dark roots, and his straight teeth looked a brilliant white in the light. Diane a.s.sumed they were dentures.

"She's saying we stole her stuff," said Tammy. She walked into the light and glared at Diane. "That's the thanks we get for tryin' to save your skinny a.s.s."

Tammy took a drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke in Diane's face. Diane waved it away and stepped back.

Tammy wore black, tight capri pants and a black tank top decorated with rhinestones. Her hair was light brown, shoulder length, and frizzy. She had long, polished fingernails. All the better to scratch your eyes out All the better to scratch your eyes out, thought Diane. Tammy could have been in her thirties, forties, or pus.h.i.+ng fifty, for all Diane could tell. Her face was lined with light wrinkles that looked like they came from too much time in the sun.

"Miss Fallon says Slick attacked her," said Conrad. "What about it, Slick? Did you attack her?"

"Now, Travis, you know that ain't true," said Slick. "I was trying to help the woman. A tree fell on her ride here and she was all shook up." He chuckled. "All shook up. Anyways, when I tried to see if she needed help, she slugged me and ran-and stole my flashlight, d.a.m.n it. She stole my flashlight."

"Slick tried to find her with the dogs," said Tammy. "I told him not to bother. If the b.i.t.c.h was so stupid as to run into the woods in a thunderstorm, then she deserves to get her a.s.s drowned." She waved her hand in the air, holding the cigarette between her fingers. "But you know Slick-what a tender heart he has. He had to go out in the rain and try to find her. Got soakin' wet. I'll bet he catches his death."

"What's goin' on? Is somethin' goin' on?" A high-pitched, plaintive voice came from the porch.

Diane looked over and saw a woman with a walker standing backlit in the doorway of the run-down house.

"Nothing you need to worry about, Norma, honey. You just go back in and I'll make you some hot cocoa when I come in. Go back in. You don't need to be out here after a storm. The air's too wet."

They all watched as the woman disappeared from the doorway. Tammy stood with one arm across her midriff and the other holding her cigarette up near her face. She flicked ashes off the end of the cigarette and resumed her stance.

"That's my cousin Norma, visiting from Indiana. Poor thing's not in good health. She came down here to try and recuperate. She don't need this kind of excitement." Tammy took another puff on her cigarette. This time she blew the smoke out the corner of her mouth.

"Miss Fallon says a skeleton landed on the hood of her vehicle," said Deputy Conrad. He was leaning against the fender of Diane's SUV, touching the top where it had been bent by the falling tree. "What do you have to say 'bout that?"

"Ain't true," said Slick. "Sho' 'nuff ain't true."

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard," answered Tammy. "I'll show you what she saw."

Tammy marched them over to the side of the road where they had pulled the tree. Among the branches was a crude plastic skeleton.

"We hung it in that old tree last Halloween. Forgot about it. That's what she saw. That's what she got hysterical over," said Tammy, grinning.

"I don't get hysterical over skeletons," said Diane. "I'm fascinated by them. I'm a forensic anthropologist. I a.n.a.lyze skeletons for a living. I can tell bones from plastic."

"Well, ain't you f.u.c.kin' special," said Tammy. "Looky here, Slick, we got ourselves a f.u.c.kin' forensic anthropologist. Well, I'll bet you're real embarra.s.sed about thinking ol' b.l.o.o.d.y bones here was real. Yeah, real embarra.s.sed." She took a puff on her cigarette and smirked at Diane. "Your word against ours, doll. Out here you don't mean squat."

"Tammy," said Deputy Conrad, shaking his head.

"It's true," Tammy said. "Do you see real bones here?"

"Unfortunately," said Travis Conrad, "with no body, so to speak, there's nothing I can do."

Tammy's smirk grew broader. Diane focused on the memory of the skull. Well-closed sutures, angular orbits, narrowish face, small triangular nasal opening, slight jawline, graceful brow ridge, bad teeth. Diane looked at the tree and detritus around it. Of course, it was hollow and had been cemented up. The body was inside the tree. Completely skeletonized. This was Georgia. Even in the mountains, bodies could skeletonize quickly. It was held together when it fell, but broke apart easily. Held together by what tendons it had left. Then there was the healed fracture. Diane was surprised her memory was so good at this point. Must have been the water and candy bar that Travis gave her.

"Of course," Diane said to the deputy. "I understand. However, if a report comes across your desk of a white adult woman who's been missing from about three to twelve months ago, who has bad teeth, and has been beaten about the face or been in a car accident that broke her cheek and nasal area-then you need to come back and take a look around."

Diane watched Tammy and Slick as she spoke. Slick kept his face still, too still. There was a flash of something in Tammy's face as she dropped her smirk and picked it up again.

"Well, aren't you something?" said Tammy. "You need to go into storytelling, the way you can spin a yarn at the spur of the moment like that."

"You're right on, Tammy," said Slick. "The woman's pure entertaining."

"I'll keep my eyes open," said Deputy Conrad, looking at the two of them and shaking his head. "I sure will."

"I don't suppose I can get my things back," said Diane. "From my purse and glove compartment?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Tammy. "Accusing us of stealin', when all we ever did to you was try to help you. People come down this road all the time and steal stuff. You didn't have your car locked, did you?"

"What about Roy's arrowheads?" said Travis. "If you guys took his arrowheads, I'll have the National Guard out here combing your land."

"What the f.u.c.k do we want with a bunch of arrowheads?" said Slick. "Like Tammy said, people come and steal stuff all the time. We can't keep nothing out what it don't get stole. Alls we did was look in her purse to find out her name. Here this strange woman drives by and the tree falls on her. We was trying to help. Had no idea who she was. She didn't say before she run off."

"I need to look in the back of my SUV," said Diane.

Deputy Travis nodded and they walked back over to Diane's vehicle. Diane opened the rear door and looked at the boxes strewn across the back.

"Well, s.h.i.+t," she said.

Chapter 8

The boxes of artifacts were open in the back of Diane's vehicle. Their contents were in disarray. Some were overturned and the arrowheads had spilled out on the floor.

"Well, h.e.l.l," she muttered, and climbed in the back. "I need to sort this out."

"d.a.m.n it, Slick, Tammy, can't you keep your hands off other people's things?" said the deputy. Travis Conrad stood at the back of the vehicle with a hand on the open hatch.

"Now you're accusin' us," said Slick. "We was out lookin' for her. When was it we had time to rifle through her stuff?"

"You had time to move that dead tree," said Conrad. "I doubt Tammy was out looking for her. Were you the one who went through her things, Tammy?"

"You watch your mouth, Travis Conrad," said Tammy. "I could say some things about you."

"A lot of people could, I'm sure. Did you take any of these arrowheads? I mean it. You got yourself in a heap of trouble if you did."

"You gone crazy, Travis? You wasn't this p.i.s.sed about the notion of a skeleton," said Slick.

"Just empty your pockets," said Deputy Conrad.

"Them arrowheads belong to Roy Barre. Now empty your pockets."

"The h.e.l.l I will," said Slick.

"You want me to take you in?" said Conrad.

Diane listened from her vantage point in the back of her SUV. She was a little surprised at the deputy's anger, but then again, after seeing Roy's and his wife's murdered bodies, she understood. While they spoke, she took the knife wrapped up in the rain hat and put it between the front seats. She put the flashlight she took from Slick with it. It felt good not to have them sticking her in the ribs. She felt only mildly guilty not giving them to the deputy. But technically, the knife wasn't part of the crime scene. Nor was the poncho the stranger had given her, and so far Deputy Conrad hadn't asked her for it.

"I won't forget this, Travis," said Slick.

"If you didn't have such a reputation for pilfering people's things and siphoning their gas, you wouldn't be having this problem, Slick. Empty out your pockets, or so help me, I'll run you in."

"If I had an arrowhead in my pocket, it would be mine, and you'd think I stole it," Slick said.

He sounds like a kid, Diane thought as she looked at the boxes of arrowheads. Most of them they hadn't opened, thank heaven. They had pulled the smaller boxes out of the larger one. She supposed when they discovered they were arrowheads, they pretty much lost interest.

"Just hand it over," said Deputy Conrad.

Slick pulled a three-inch, black flint arrowhead out of his pocket.

"It's mine," he said. "Roy ain't the only one who collects arrowheads."

Diane watched Deputy Conrad take the arrowhead and turn it over in his hand.

"You know, Slick, I can imagine you picking up arrowheads and collecting them. But for the life of me, I can't picture you sitting at a desk and putting numbers on all of them." Conrad handed the point to Diane. "Does this belong with Roy's?" he asked, eyeing Slick.

Diane looked at the projectile point, as Jonas Briggs, the museum's archaeologist, called them. She had no idea what kind it was, but it was pretty. Long and jet-black. Near the base on a flake scar was a small rectangle of white paint with neat, tiny black numbers. Roy said he had numbered each of the items in his grandfather's collections-all according to the carefully penned outline his grandfather did of each point he found, along with a rather charming description of where he found it and what he was doing that day. It must have taken Roy months to find which point matched what outline in his father's diary. A real labor of love for him.

"Yes, this is one of Roy's," said Diane.

"You lying b.i.t.c.h," said Tammy. "This is the last time we ever try to help anybody out. They can just lie out in the mud for all we care, can't they, honey?"

Diane ignored her and carefully put the point away, grateful that it hadn't gotten broken in Slick's pocket.

"Tammy, why don't you and Slick go in the house and fix yourselves some of that cocoa you were talking about," said Conrad.