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  I ate a small snack then changed into some workout clothes and made my run to the gym. I had a good workout, although I was constantly meandering out into the cardio area, glancing at the TV’s and keeping an eye out for any news pieces about my previous night’s events. I saw none. I ran back to the Sanderson Homestead and ate lunch, showered, and then joined Ralph in two games of chess. We split that night, which was better than the embarrassing thumping he usually delivered. After the second game we flipped on a baseball game on the TV and watched a couple innings until Minnie called us in for dinner.

  After dinner while we were all in the living room watching the end of the baseball game, Ralph on the verge of falling asleep and Minnie with her nose in a magazine, the game suddenly cut away for a breaking news report. I knew what it was going to be long before a word was ever spoken. It seemed like Ralph might have sensed something too because he quickly sat up in his chair and leaned forward, his attention undivided from the TV.

  On the screen the familiar image of a male local news anchor appeared, he was sitting behind his usual desk and his TV face and voice were on. He said the words with just the right amount of concern and professionalism, as only newscasters can do. His message was one that was sure to send paranoia and fear once again through the area.

  A young girl, Alexis Creasy, nineteen, was officially missing. She had failed to meet her friend

  Zappo

  at the City Star Theater in Larendale late the night before and had not been heard from since. When her mother noticed she wasn’t home the following morning, she first called the friend whom Alexis was supposed to meet, and then called the police. The police stated that until Alexis was gone at least twenty-four hours, there was nothing they could do, also stating that the girl was of legal age and free to do as she wished. Alexis’s abandoned Toyota Camry was found on Route 688 a few hours later, sparking the investigation the mother had wanted all along. The screen was then splashed with a recent picture of Alex, looking very much like she did when I had met her, dressed mostly in black and not smiling, and the news anchor ended his story by advising anybody who might have any information to aid the police in their search to call and report it immediately.

  The TV went back to the baseball game just in time to see a runner get thrown out trying to steal second base. Minnie closed her magazine and turned to Ralph saying, "Ralph that’s Patty Creasy’s daughter. Do you think…"

  Ralph ignored her and got up from his chair. I heard him a few seconds later on the phone in the kitchen talking rapidly. He hung up and went up stairs, coming back down several minutes later fully dressed in warm clothes and pulling on a jacket. Minnie looked at him with worry in her eyes.

  "Ralph, where are you going this late?"

  He zipped up his jacket. "The Station. Herb’s gonna deputize me. They need all the help they can get."

  "Oh, Ralph don’t--"

  "Minnie!" He held up a hand and it was the first time I’d heard him raise his voice at her. "I can help. There’s a girl missing out there, and I’ve got half a mind to say she’s probably already dead. Either way, I’m going to help find her, or help track down the son of a bitch who’s doing this."

  "Ralph, you don’t know if it’s the same--"

  "Of course it is!"

  Minnie took in a deep breath, closed her eyes and nodded. Ralph turned and left, the sound of tires on gravel as the Oldsmobile made its way down the driveway. I got up and headed to the front door, looking out the window and seeing Ralph’s taillights in the distance.

  He was going to hunt a killer who lived under his own roof.

  Chapter 33

  Alex’s body was found around noon the following day. While most of Jacob’s Bluff was opening their paper bags and lunch boxes, ready to take a quick break from the day’s work to enjoy their sandwiches and cans of Coke, a drifter, wearing worn out blue jeans and a dirty sweater, along with shoes with soles which were nearly non-existent--all this told to me by Ralph--was walking along Route 688 headed nowhere in particular, and came across Alex’s cell phone laying in the gravel on the side of the road. I remembered seeing her through the rear windshield, holding the phone up and searching for a signal right before I attacked. The phone must have fallen out of the car with her and I never saw it then, nor when I returned back to the car and drove away.

  This drifter goes over and picks up the phone and at the same time sees the faint traces of footprints headed towards the trees and marks in the gravel looking like something had been dragged, also headed towards the woods. Curious, and not in a hurry to keep walking towards nowhere, he follows the prints and heads into the woods.

  I don’t know what kept him going so far, like I said before, I walked a long ways, deep into those woods as to avoid being found. I guess somebody with no real agenda finds no problem walking aimlessly though trees. Maybe he thought he’d come out under better circumstances on the other side, wherever it may be. He obviously never made it out the other side. He found Alex’s body, turned around and ran back towards the road. Once back to Route 688 he took off towards Jacob’s Bluff, jogging until he got tired and then walking just long enough to catch his breath before jogging again. He claims he tried to flag down two cars, but wasn’t surprised that they didn’t stop for a "dirty old hobo" like himself, especially one who appeared panicked. When he finally made it back to town, he found a payphone, dialed 911 and told them what he had found. The 911 operator told him to remain exactly where he was, and a squad car was there in minutes, placing the drifter in the backseat, asking him questions and analyzing his story the whole way while he directed the driver to the spot he had found the phone. Ralph said the poor guy probably never even had any idea he was a suspect, more than likely just hoping for some kind of reward. The police were thinking it was terribly convenient that the guy just happened to be walking through the middle of the woods.

  Ralph and Herbie met the officers who had driven the drifter to where he had directed them and the four of them headed out into the woods, following the drifter’s lead through the trees. Although the other two officers hadn’t noticed, Ralph and Herbie immediately dismissed the drifter’s possible association with the murder. Besides the footprints and the drag marks in the dirt and gravel, there were also tire tracks. Whether the girl had been murdered first and then dumped in the woods, or taken into the woods and then killed, the killer had come in a car. The man before them most definitely always traveled on foot--unless he was hitch-hiking.

  Ralph said the drifter stopped maybe thirty yards from the body and pointed saying, "Ya’ll go ahead. Once is enough for me."

  The three of them approached and even with her body covered in dried blood, insects and leaves, they had no doubt the dead girl before them was Alexis Creasy. The back of her head had been literally beaten in, but her face was the same unsmiling, yet warm, face that had lit up the television screens the night before, courtesy of the picture her mother had given the police.

  They did a quick check on the drifter, using the name he gave them when asked, and when it came back that he had no priors they drove him back to Jacob’s Bluff, bought him a good meal and offered to buy him a bus ticket to anywhere he wanted. Ralph said he never heard where the guy went.

  Word spread quickly that a body had been found, but the police were still waiting on an official ID from the mother before claiming it was Alex. There was a press conference later that evening, Minnie and I watching from the recliners in the living room, and Herbie got on stage, a handful of officers behind him--including Ralph--to verify the tragic news. Alexis Creasy had been murdered. After a brief statement he stepped aside, and along with the rest of the crowd present, I assumed it was over. Then I heard a voice I recognized well and glanced back towards the TV. Ralph had stepped up to the podium, and with a look in his eye that said "Don’t anybody fuck with me," he said, "I promise you all that no member of the Jacob’s Bluff, or Larendale Police Force will rest until this killer is hunted down and had justi
ce dealt to him." Herbie walked to Ralph’s side and put a hand on his friends shoulder. Ralph nodded, signifying he was OK, then his eyes locked onto the camera and stared into it hard--it looked like he was staring directly at me--and he said, "If you’re out there watching, and I hope you are, know this: We will find you."

  I shuddered a chill and went into the kitchen for a beer.

  Things changed in the Sanderson house that night, and I’m not talking about a change for the better. Just as my murders had disrupted the mindset of the entire town, they had also caused a storm cloud, dark and gray and full of doom and gloom, to manifest and park itself over top of Ralph and Minnie’s home, which was also my home.

  The press conference had ended--after Ralph’s parting words--a little after eight that night. Ralph didn’t walk through the front door until almost midnight and passed right by me in the living room--Minnie had gone to bed hours before--and into the kitchen. I heard him open a beer and sit at the table. Ten minutes later he went up the stairs and to bed. I followed suit and I when I heard the Oldsmobile start up the following morning it was barely 5:00 AM.

  Ralph had jumped off the Jacob’s Bluff Police Department’s Retired shelf, stretched, dusted himself off, and fell right back into what he did best, never missing a beat. He left early every morning and returned home late. Minnie and I hardly ever saw him. Every once in a while he’d come home for a few minutes to grab something he needed, or maybe scarf down a quick sandwich, but he never said more than ten words to either of us, and he always looked tired. I don’t know how a man his age kept up with such a pace, I really don’t. Minnie, clearly phased by the "loss" of her husband, and probably out of fear for him as well, tried to call him occasionally during the first two days, asking how things were going and if he thought he might be home for dinner. But on what must have been her third phone call before lunch on the second day, Ralph laid into her. I was at the kitchen table and Minnie stood at the phone at the wall, receiver in hand, and I watched the tears build up in her eyes as Ralph yelled at her and told her that he was fine and too damn busy to have to deal with nagging phone calls every damn hour. She hung up the phone and went to her recliner. I decided it was a good time to take a jog.

  That night I never saw Minnie eat dinner. When the time came and past and I realized Minnie wasn’t cooking that night I made myself dinner and when I walked into the living room to offer her some, she looked up at me from a magazine and said, "No thank you, my stomach’s feeling a little upset." It was the first time I’d seen her skip a meal.

  And that’s the way things went for a while. Ralph’s hours continued to be long, and Minnie’s usually chipper and pleasant personality continued to hide itself. She spent most days walking aimlessly around the house, sometimes never even changing out of her nightgown--which was something I had grown accustomed to, yet wished I hadn’t ever seen--and wasting away hours in front of the television. It seemed like she only ate when absolutely necessary, and even then she didn’t have the energy to actually prepare a decent meal. She’d get up from her chair with a heavy grunt, make her way to the kitchen to grab a bag of chips or pack of cookies or box of Little Debbie’s and then head back to the recliner. Our conversations went from little to none, mostly because I stopped trying to force words out of her when she clearly had no desire to speak to anybody except when yelling at contestants on The Price is Right.

  Yes, things had gotten sad around the house, but I used the new found silence and inactivity to my advantage. My writing was coming along great. Killing Alex had created a great couple of chapters and I had been on an author’s high ever since, building plot and navigating a truly engaging story like I felt I had never done before. The writing sessions would fly by. I’d start a little after lunch and it was usually dark outside when I clicked the SAVE button for the last time each evening. One thing did have me worried, though: I didn’t have an end. Without a solid ending to wrap everything up my story was worthless. Sometimes this would get me thinking about my own life, the things I had done and where I had ended up, and then the question "How’s it going to end?" would have a double meaning. Things had to stop somewhere.

  But how?

  It was eight days exactly before Ralph was finally in the house and in one place long enough for us to actually talk. I had avoided the news for the most part, focusing on my writing, and had absolutely no idea what kind of progress the Police were making in the murder investigations. I wasn’t behind bars yet, or had even been questioned for that matter, so I was assuming that things weren’t going well enough.

  It was almost midnight and I was in Ralph’s recliner in the living room watching SportsCenter. I heard Ralph’s car pull up and then heard him come into the front door and walk to the kitchen like he did most nights. I heard the fridge open, the beer’s bottle top twisted, and then as I listened for the footsteps that usually led down the hall and up the stairs I heard them, instead, coming in my direction.

  Ralph’s body appeared in the doorway. He looked surprisingly fresh and lively considering the hour and the amount of sleep I knew he’d been getting--or maybe I should say not getting. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and the result was a spotty stubble. He was still wearing his jacket and hat.

  "Now who the hell do you think you are sitting in my chair?"

  Not prepared for a joke--or anything that might produce a smile--I sat dumbfounded, mouth open ready to reply and brain yelling at me to get my ass out of that man’s chair ASAP. My startled expression must have shown through because Ralph grinned and then let out a quick laugh. "I’m just messin’, Dan. Don’t you worry yourself, I’ll sit in Minnie’s. God knows she’s probably broken it in by now." With that he walked to the chair and sat, slumping down hard, causing a tiny bit of beer to escape the top of the bottle and slide down the side. He let out a sigh as he sat, as if his body was verbally thanking him for allowing it to finally relax. Ralph’s eyes fixed to the screen but I knew he wasn’t really watching. I knew his mind was still out there, even if his body was in the house, out there working.

  The question formed on my lips and I hesitated only a second, thinking twice about probing, before I just let it out. "So how are things going?"

  His eyes came back to life then, I saw them focus instead of staring into space. I think he was almost glad I asked. So he wouldn’t have to keep his thoughts to himself. He turned and looked at me.

  "Dan, it’s not going good at all. I hate to say it but I think this guys going to get away. From us, anyway."

  "Don’t think like that, I’m sure you guys will stumble across something," I said, not believing what I was saying.

  "That’s just it though," he said, setting the beer, still full, on the coffee table next to the chess board. "We have evidence, more than enough to convict somebody. We’ve got semen from both bodies, a match. We’ve got hair samples, a match. The lab upstate is one hundred percent positive. We’ve got freakin’ fingerprints on the murder weapon that match prints found in the hotel room where the first girl was killed. We are absolutely positive this is the same person who committed these crimes. Hell, it’s almost like the guy doesn’t even care if he’s caught, as sloppy as he’s been, leaving all these things behind."

  I thought about what Ralph was saying and about how right he was. I almost wanted to tell him, put his mind to rest.

  I didn’t.

  "So what’s the issue then?"

  Ralph stood up fast, the chair rocking back and forth with his force. "The problem is none of what we have; the semen, the hair, the prints. None of it matches any record in any database. Anywhere! This guy is either killing for the first time, or his other murders were never discovered. Either way, finding this guy--or even finding out who he is for that matter--is quite literally like trying to find a needle in a haystack."

  I had riled him up and that was definitely not my intention. He looked up to the ceiling then, probably thinking he didn’t want to wake Minnie, and then sat back down in his chair. I
didn’t say anything else. I had the information I was looking for and didn’t want to risk upsetting him more. We sat there together with the SportsCenter anchors filling in the silence.

  I was about to get up and go to bed when Ralph asked, "I know it’s late, but you up for a game of chess?"

  There was no way I was going to say no.

  While we were playing somebody left me a voicemail on my cell phone, which was upstairs. It was the first part of my ending I had been searching for.

  Chapter 34

  Ralph, even with his distracted and exhausted mindset, beat me in chess again that night, and I definitely didn’t let him. I played as focused as I ever did and still managed to fall into his traps, always overlooking one move here or there that helped to ultimately spell my fall.

  We finished up and reset the board like we always did after every match and then I turned to head upstairs, grabbing the TV remote to switch it off. Ralph told me to leave it on, that he wasn’t quite ready for bed, and when I looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was almost two in the morning I knew that even after the distraction of our game of chess his mind was still not ready to wind down. Maybe he just couldn’t shut it off.

  I bid him goodnight and climbed the stairs up to my bedroom. As I walked I saw the image of Ralph, the innocent man who had graciously welcomed me into his home and befriended me, setting my past problems aside and willing to help, sitting alone in his living room, staring a TV show he wasn’t watching and his mind racing with thoughts of murder, evidence and police work to the point that he couldn’t even join his wife in bed to fall asleep.