Chapter 6
Securing the last of the ropes around Poole’s arms, Herbert got to his feet and took in his work. Not bad, it would get the job done, as usual. Poole’s hands were tied at the wrists behind his back and his arms were pinned to his torso with rope from shoulder to waist. Placing the empty potato sack over Poole’s head, the detective sat back, getting comfortable as he waited for Poole to wake up. Turning so he was facing the subway entrance with Poole’s limp form in front of him, Herbert tried to relax.
He had brought his partner over twenty men to feed on. All deserved what they got, some more than others, but all deserved it none the less. No matter how many times he did it, Herbert still felt uneasy here. He didn’t trust his partner not to attack him, but Herbert sure as hell did trust him to get the job done when it came to the scum he brought. At least this one wouldn’t be hard to sell, he would just say Poole got the drop on him and got away, like all the other times. The first one had been the only one that made Herbert nervous. Probably just because it was the first time, but it could have gone really bad.
Witnesses could have put Herbert at the hotel the night of his disappearance, but luckily no one saw him leave with Zachary’s unconscious form thrown over his shoulder. Herbert had also been lucky that the hotel’s security cameras weren’t properly maintained so they hadn’t been working that night. Abbey said Herbert was with her all night when a detective asked, “just to rule everyone out”. She’d done it to save Herbert the embarrassment of the force knowing how unstable he’d been that night. Sweet wife she was, she never suspected he really had something to do with Zachary and Bale’s disappearances. In the end, the DPD came to the conclusion that Zachary and Bale took off, starting a new life with the money Zachary got from the Jones lawsuit.
After ending his call with Abbey, on the night Herbert fed Bale and Zachary to his partner, Herbert made an anomynous tip to the DPD about concern that something had happened at Ian Bale’s home. When the police inspected Bale’s home, they found Tabitha Jones alive, locked up in his basement just as Bale had said. Although she had been molested, she was alive. Although she would require extensive therapy and grief counseling, as well as exhausting mental rehabilitation, she survived…she would have a chance at a normal life, eventually. Herbert had wanted to drive right back to Bale’s house and rescue Tabitha himself, but knew that would raise too many questions. At least she hadn’t had to spend another night in that sick bastard’s house.
Herbert still checked on her from time to time. She had been placed in the custody of her grandparents. They were good people, Herbert had looked into them. Tabitha had a long way to go, but had made huge strides in her therapy the past couple years. Herbert had opened a trust fund in her name, and added money to it monthly. He hoped it would be big enough to put her through college when the time came…or to buy her a house, whichever she wanted. Herbert just hoped the poor thing could sleep at night, that she didn’t lie awake with memories of the horrors she witnessed filling her mind. Speaking of being awake, Herbert thought, the man of the hour was finally stirring.
Poole’s eyelids fluttered, and he grimaced. His right arm flexed, like he wanted to put his hand to his forehead to soothe the pounding Herbert knew the man had in his head. Poole’s eyes shot open as he looked around frantically, and when he looked down and noticed the ropes, he flipped his lid. Herbert stood up, shaking his head.
“Calm down, Edgar. There’s no reason to be so upset, pal.” When Poole laid eyes on Herbert, he really lost it.
“You son of a bitch! You’re a cop, you set me up! I’m gonna kill you…I’m gonna kill Nate, that bastard!” Suddenly it hit him that he was out in the middle of nowhere, tied up and alone with Herbert. He calmed down at that moment, fear taking over his anger. Swallowing loudly, Poole addressed Herbert in a small voice.
“Where am I? What are you going to do to me?”
“Well, Edgar, I won’t lie. It isn’t good. Why don’t you get up on your feet and start walking, I will explain more as we go.” Poole glared at Herbert, then looked down.
“No. You are going to kill me anyways, what’s the point?” Herbert pulled out his gun, cocking it as he pointed it at Poole.
“Well, you are going to die for sure right here, right now if you don’t do what I say. Get up.” Poole started to cry. Damn it all, Herbert sighed, this part annoyed him. Pieces of trash like Poole were all tough hard-asses when they killed and raped innocent people. But the second the tables were turned, they turned into pathetic, whiny little babies. Disgusting.
“Get up now, Poole! Or I’m going to blow your brains out all over the ground!” Poole cringed, cowering away from Herbert as he blubbered a response.
“Please… don’t kill me. Why are you doing this to me!?” Herbert had heard enough. Grabbing Poole by the shirt collar, he yanked the sniffling killer to his feet. Face to face now, Herbert leaned in, his nose inches from Poole’s.
“Why? You want to know why this is happening to you, you stupid son of a bitch!? You know why! Now start walking!” Giving Poole a rough shove, Herbert pointed the gun at the stumbling man’s back as he started slowly walking toward the subway entrance…still blubbering.
“What do you mean? I didn’t do anything! I swear I didn’t kill that couple!” Idiot, Herbert thought. He’d never told Poole what he suspected him of. No one had. He’d just confessed.
“Yes you did…how else would you know that is why this is happening…idiot.” Poole started sobbing.
“Okay, okay I did it, alright! I was fucking going through withdrawals and needed a fix. I wasn’t thinking straight. When I saw them, and asked them for money and they said they didn’t have any, I just got so mad. I couldn’t control my anger…so I shot and killed them. I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking straight…I swear!” Herbert loved how the weasel left out one little detail.
“What about when you raped Elizabeth Baker!? Right after you stabbed her husband Steve! That’s right asswipe, you didn’t shoot them, you stabbed them. A gun can go off before you can think it through, but a knife needs to be plunged into a person with force to kill them. You knew exactly what you were doing when you killed Steve Baker…when you stabbed that innocent young man 8 times! And when you did what you did to Elizabeth. When you raped her, right on the same sidewalk her dead husband’s corpse was bleeding out on just a couple feet away. You knew exactly what you were doing when you slit her throat and watched the light fade from that sweet, innocent girl’s eyes.” They were only ten feet from the subway entrance, not much longer now. Poole turned around, trying to plead his case.
“Come on man! I screwed up, I confess. Please, just arrest me! Take me to jail, you can’t do this, you are a cop…you can’t kill me!” Herbert backhanded Poole across the face with his gun, spinning the murderer around and to the ground.
“Wrong Poole, right now I’m not a cop…not tonight. So, yes, I can kill you. But I’m not going to…he is.” Herbert shined the light into the subway entrance, pointing to his partner as he continued. “Meet my partner, motherfucker.” As Poole turned and looked into the entrance, the sight of the creature brought out a child-like whimper. That was mustered before the monster grabbed him and tore into him. Herbert forced himself to watch, like he always did. He owed it to Steve Baker, to Elizabeth Baker…but more than that, he had to watch it. Because Herbert was the reason it was happening, he was just as guilty of murder as his partner was. Eventually, the meal was finished. Herbert clicked off the light and turned to leave, waving a nonchalant goodbye to his partner. The monster’s voice came out raspy, like he had something stuck in his throat.
“Leaving so soon, Herbert Vale. Why don’t you- ” Suddenly, the monster hacked something up and spit it out. As Herbert looked back, he saw Poole’s slime covered head fly out of the darkness of the subway entrance and roll to a stop a few feet in front of him. Poole’s horrified
facial expression was frozen on his chewed off head. Nice, Herbert thought, real nice. His partner let out a shrill laugh.
“Oh Herbert Vale, what a funny thing to have happen. Please, be so kind as to retrieve my leftovers and bring them back over to me.” Herbert didn’t want to, but he also didn’t want to be a postmeal snack for the beast. But there was no way in hell he was getting anywhere close to the monster. So he obliged, picking up Poole’s head and tossing it back into the darkness. He heard the creature catch it, then heard Poole’s skull crack and splinter as Herbert’s partner crunched and munched it down.
“Alright then, I’ll see you within a month. Good night.” As Herbert walked away, he heard the monster still laughing.
“Oh, yes, we had quite a fun time tonight. Good night, Herbert Vale. Good night indeed.”