Kevin O'Brien - One Last Scream

Miriam let out a long sigh. “Then Lon threw his rifle down, and Amelia ran into his arms. She was hysterical, crying, but Lon kept rocking her and telling her, ‘You’re safe now, baby.’”

“And Clay Spalding was dead,” Karen murmured.

Miriam nodded. “I think he died in the ambulance on the way to Samaritan Hospital.”

“What about Amelia?” Karen asked. “I understand she was never really the same after that day. I hear her parents had a very hard time with her.”

“Well, it might have been more gradual than that,” Miriam said. “I know she was giving Lon and Joy some problems even before that Sunday. So Lord knows how long Clay had been- pawing at that poor little girl. I heard stories later that he had Polaroid snapshots of Amelia, undressed .” She shook her head. “Anyway, if she had problems before that day, well, you’re right, they just got worse and worse after that. She tried to run away several times. I remember once, talking in the front yard to Joy and the twins, and a pickup truck came speeding up the block, like a bat out of you-know-where. I said to Joy something about how they could kill somebody, driving that fast. And before we knew it, Amelia broke away and ran into the street smack dab in front of that pickup- on purpose . The driver almost had an accident, swerving to avoid her. Four years old, and she was trying to kill herself. Can you imagine? Lon and Joy kept her home most of the time after that, and they didn’t take visitors. I hardly saw her. Then I heard they sent her to stay with Joy’s relatives, a cousin, I think.”

Karen imagined Lon’s solution to Amelia’s problems was to lock the tormented girl in her room most of the time.

“What about the sister?” she asked.

“Annabelle? Oh, she was very well behaved. I don’t think they had any problem with her.” Miriam rubbed her chin. “No, the only time I ever saw her kick up a fuss was that afternoon before the shooting. And then later, I remember noticing her in her bedroom window, looking out and crying. I guess she’d seen the whole awful thing. But she didn’t act up or anything after that, not like her sister.”

Karen reached over and put her hand on Miriam’s bony arm. “Did Lon run into any legal trouble for the shooting?” She winced a little. “I mean, even if it seemed justified, some people might say he took the law into his own hands.”

Miriam frowned. “Well, I know there were some concerns. But Lon cooperated with the police a hundred percent.”

“Did a doctor ever examine Amelia to determine whether or not she’d actually been molested?”

With a pained look on her careworn face, Miriam shrugged. “I really don’t know. But they found her clothes in Clay’s bedroom. And in the kitchen drawer, they found a wallet and a necklace belonging to a woman who had been missing for nearly a month, a waitress.”

“Kristen Marquart,” Karen interjected. “I read about her.”

Miriam nodded, then shuddered a bit. “You can just imagine what it was like for me to realize I’d been living next door to a serial killer for two years.”

“Did they ever find Kristen’s body?”

Miriam fiddled with her necklace again. “No, I don’t think so.”

“And did they ever really connect Clay with any of the other disappearances?”

“Well, they found whatever was left of one poor woman near the reservation where he used to live. That was enough for me. Oh, this girlfriend of Clay’s raised a big fuss….”

Karen nodded. She’d already left a voice mail for Clay’s friend, Naomi Rankin, who still lived in Moses Lake. But Naomi hadn’t phoned back yet.

“She insisted he was totally innocent, and incapable of hurting anyone. But she didn’t see what I saw that day. No, she certainly did not.”

“Then you believe Clay murdered those young women,” Karen murmured.

Miriam glanced at Karen over the rims of her cat’s-eye glasses. “Well, dear, the girls stopped disappearing after Clay was shot dead. So what do you think?”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Stephanie announced. “Real bad.”

“Well, hold on a little longer, honey,” Jessie said, with a glance in the rearview mirror. “We’re almost there. The last few blocks are always the worst.”

Driving up the cul-de-sac toward George’s house, Jessie kept looking for that beat-up black Cadillac with the broken antenna. She didn’t see it. She didn’t spot Karen’s Jetta either. Nothing looked unusual or out of place as she pulled into the driveway: no strange cars, no smashed windows, no one lurking around the house.

Approaching the front door with the children, Jessie didn’t notice anything wrong with the door handle. To be on the safe side, she would have left the kids in the car while she ducked into the house for the damn inhaler. But Steffie had to go to the bathroom. She was all fidgety and squirming as Jessie unlocked the door. At least the door was still locked. That was a good sign.

“Now, let me go in first,” Jessie announced, reaching for the light switch.

But Stephanie darted past her through the doorway, and made a beeline for the bathroom off the kitchen. Jessie had left the light on in there.

“I gotta go, too,” Jody said, heading toward the facilities by his bedroom.

Rolling her eyes, Jessie turned and saw the door open to the front closet, with the light on. Had she left it like that?

She remembered setting the alarm code before hurrying out of the house earlier. It should have started beeping when they came through the front door. Something was wrong. “Steffie? Jody?” she called.

Starting toward the kitchen, Jessie glanced around the living room, and stopped dead. “Oh, no,” she murmured. She felt this awful sensation in the pit of her stomach. For a few seconds, she couldn’t move.

The drawers to the antique cabinet were left open. One drawer was taken out completely and dumped on the floor.

She heard a toilet flush. Continuing toward the kitchen, Jessie saw that someone had been through the dining room breakfront, too. More open drawers, a few of them dumped out and scattered on the floor. The silver candlesticks on the dining room table were missing. All Jessie could think about was getting the children out of there, and then calling the police from a neighbor’s house.

“Kids, we need to leave!” she called nervously.

“What?” Jody called back. “What’s going on?”

Jessie turned and saw him coming from the bedroom hallway. But Jody suddenly stopped in his tracks. His mouth open, he gaped at Jessie and shook his head.

She realized he was looking at something behind her. She heard a whimpering sound, and recognized Steffie’s cry. Jessie swiveled around, and for a moment, her heart stopped.

Stephanie stood trembling in the kitchen doorway. Tears streamed down her face. She’d wet herself.

Standing behind her was a young man with black hair and sunglasses. He wore a shiny black suit, and held a gun to Stephanie’s head.

“Holy crap, I think I found something,” the deputy said. He stopped digging for a moment and gaped down into the hole.

George hadn’t had much difficulty persuading Tyler to follow him out to the Schlessinger ranch. The deputy had had a little crush on Sandra Hartman back in high school, and for a while, he’d obsessed over her sudden disappearance. And George had been right about Tyler’s hatred for his boss. He’d suggested that if they found a body buried on the ranch, Tyler could say he’d gotten suspicious and followed George out there while off duty. And yes, wouldn’t the sheriff look stupid after that?

Tyler had a flashlight in his car, and they’d set it on a tree stump so it shined in the general direction of the wildflowers. They’d chosen a patch, and started in. George had worked the pick, and Tyler had manned the shovel. While they’d worked, the deputy had gone on and on about how much he couldn’t stand that ballbuster boss of his. They hadn’t even dug two feet down when Tyler had noticed the bones.