We should be closed, he thought. I could be home playing video games, or better yet, taking a nap. The long week at school wore him out and he couldn’t fathom working the entire weekend. Who knows, he thought, maybe we’ll close tomorrow.
At five minutes to seven, he saw a white van pass by the ice cream stand. The red brake lights lit and he got a glimpse of the driver. Nick saw the man step from the vehicle. The man wore a tan baseball cap, with long hair flowing from the back. He could see the man’s skin through the holes of his black tee shirt, which had the arms cut off. He wore denim jeans that covered a pair of work boots that had seen better days. Some kind of creep, he thought. Someone who doesn’t look scared to be out, even though the killer has promised to strike once again.
Though business was slow and the stand could use all the customers they could get, Nick didn’t want this particular man to be a patron. There was something strange about the man.
Then he saw the man look at him. The nice smile on his face didn’t match what was in his eyes. It’s not craziness, Nick thought. Perhaps a look of hunger.
But the man was not hungry for ice cream. He was hungry for something else, though Nick had no idea what. He would soon find out.
* * *
Todd returned home from cruising around town. He only found one more person to talk to: an elderly woman out to get her mail. She was very short with him and claimed to have not seen or heard anything. For an old woman, he thought, she walked back to her house rather quickly.
Upon entering the foyer to his home, he saw Melinda at the kitchen table.
“Want to order Chinese food?” she asked.
“Sure,” Todd said. “Same place as last time?”
“No,” she said. “That place had terrible food. Let’s try another place.” She rose from her chair and walked towards the counter. Under the countertop, she pulled a drawer open and retrieved a small, yellow phone book.
“That’s old school,” Todd said. “Why don’t you just look it up on your phone?”
“It’s in the bedroom, and I don’t feel like getting it. I don’t mind paging through this. Plus they might have a coupon or something.”
“Okay, sound good,” Todd said.
Forty minutes later, the door bell rang. Todd walked to the door and looked out the peep hole. He saw a man holding a brown bag. He opened the door and smiled at the man.
“Delivery for Williams.”
“Thanks. How much do I owe you?”
“Fifteen eighty-five.”
Todd handed the man a twenty dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
Todd and Melinda ate dinner in silence that night. There wasn’t much to say. It was certain that another victim would be found. Every day would be the same. Death would greet them each and every day until the perpetrator was caught.
In bed that night, Todd smiled at his wife. He felt her warmth beneath the cotton sheets that were soft to the touch, though not as soft as her skin. He rubbed her arm and saw that her eyes grew heavy. He leaned towards her and kissed her on the forehead. “Sweet dreams, dear,” he said.
Melinda closed her eyes and spoke softly. “I hope.”
Day 6
On Saturday morning, Todd awoke in the same fashion as usual. His eyes opened slowly and he saw the time: Twenty of seven. He looked at Melinda and saw that she was in a partially-unconscious state. He wanted to lay with her all morning, but he had a lot of work to do. A new victim would surely be found, and perhaps any clue could help Todd figure out how all of the victims were connected.
Todd swung his legs out and stood. His back cracked as he stretched and as he walked, his ankles popped slightly.
“I’m getting old,” he muttered.
Todd took a quick shower and dressed before making his way to the kitchen for a bite to eat. He saw the phone book still lying on the kitchen table from last night. Todd’s eyes lit up.
He grabbed the phone book from the table, ran to his office, and shut the door behind him. He hurried to his desk and sat down.
“The phone book is organized by last name,” he said to himself. “Maybe he used the phone book somehow.”
He reviewed the victim’s names again. He had written them the previous day in the order they were found.
Deborah Miller.
Joshua Adler.
Sam Riley.
Cindy Keller.
Angela Littleton.
“Maybe the order has something to do with it,” he said.
He wrote out the first letter of each other their first names: DJSCA.
“That’s not it,” he said. Then he paged through the phone book and remembered the relic was organized by each resident’s last name.
He wrote each letter of each victim’s last name in order they were found: MARKL.
“You son of a bitch,” he muttered.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed Detective Markley.
“John, listen to me. Look at the last names of the victims in order of when they were found. I think the next victim will have a last name beginning with E. I think he’s spelling out your name.”
There was silence on the line. Then John spoke: “Oh my god.”
“I’m not certain,” Todd said. “But I think he’s picking names at random from the phone book and stalking his victims. He gets their name and their address right from the goddamn phone book.”
Todd hesitated. “John, is your name and information in the phone book?”
“No,” John said. “I’m not listed in the phone book, Todd. I got my name and information pulled from there years ago, when we had Carter.”
“Good.”
“So why do you think he’d spell my name out?”
“I think he’s taunting you. This is fun for him. But you have to keep this idea of mine to yourself. This can’t get printed in the paper. John, are you at home?”
“Todd, hold on, I’m getting another call.”
Moments later, Todd heard John’s voice. “Todd, they found victim number six.”
“Do they know the identity of the victim yet?” Todd asked.
“Not yet. But I’ll give you the address. Meet me over there.”
Todd wrote down the address. “I’ll see you soon.”
* * *
Upon arriving at the address John had given him over the phone, Todd saw a man he did not know standing over the body, face down near a sand dune. The body was missing the left leg, though peculiarly enough, the left foot was in the sand, almost as if the leg were invisible.
“Where’s John?” Todd asked. “He told me to meet him here. I’m Todd Williams.”
“Emergency,” the man said.
Todd looked at the body, then back at the man. “Emergency?”
The man handed Todd a sealed bag with the sixth note. Todd saw that the note only contained an address.
“Whose address is this?” Todd asked.
“Detective Markley’s.”
Todd couldn’t believe his eyes. How had the killer known John’s address if it wasn’t in the phone book? Todd had many questions swirling around in his mind, though the only one he could think to ask the man was: “Do you have an ID on the victim?”
“Nicholas Eyer.”
Todd stepped back in horror. He stared at the body of the man he met the prior day at the ice cream stand. Then he thought about the fact that his last name began with the letter E. Why didn’t I think of this yesterday? he thought. I could have warned him. Anyone with a last name beginning with the letter E was fair game to be victim number six.
Todd knew the detective was now rushing back to his house, unsure of what to expect when he arrived. He was sure that John’s wife and son were home. It was a Saturday morning, so the boy didn’t have school.
Todd looked at the address a second time and memorized it. He handed the note back to the man. “Thanks.”
He turned around and raced to his car. Once in, he punched the detective’s address into his
GPS and sped off. There was little traffic on the road, especially for a sunny Saturday. Todd saw less than a dozen pedestrians during his journey to John’s house. They scurried to and fro on the sidewalks, always in at least pairs, obsessively looking over their shoulders as they went. Tension was running high in Myrtle Beach as the residents prepared for word of another victim, and soon they would learn about Nicholas Eyer. Tomorrow they would learn about another victim. Todd knew the next day’s victim would have a last name starting with a Y, and would be missing their right foot. Though he wasn’t certain of that. It could just as easily be John’s son or wife…or John himself.
* * *
Ten minutes after leaving the crime scene, Todd arrived at the address in the note. He saw John’s car parked outside a two story house two blocks from the beach. He stepped from his car and felt his shoe sink into the curbside sand. Up north, that was where grass normally grew. Here in Myrtle Beach, sand often took the place of soil and grass was sparse.
Todd walked to the front door of the house, which was left slightly ajar. He peered into the house, but nobody was in sight. He pressed his hand against the door and heard it creak as it opened.
“John?”
He stepped into John’s house and saw a figure standing in the center of the living room, looking at something on the ground.
Todd reached for his holstered .38, but relaxed when the man turned around and he saw it was John.
“Are you okay?” Todd asked.
“I’m fine,” John said. “I’m just thanking God that Samantha and Carter were not home this morning.” He bent over and picked up a piece of paper on the floor. “The bastard was in my house, Todd. He was here, and he left this.”
John turned around and showed Todd the note. The handwritten note simply said: “Enjoying the game, Markley?”
“I’m not sure what he would have done if they were home,” John said.
“I’m not sure,” Todd said. Nothing good, I’m sure.” Todd knew that John would never have seen them again, or if he did, he knew they would be found as corpses with one of their body parts hacked off. Of course, that was better left unsaid. The detective already had enough on his mind.
“I just called Samantha,” John said. “Told her not to come home until I said it was safe.”
“Good idea,” Todd said. “It’ll only be safe once this guy is arrested or killed. I’d prefer the latter, of course.”
John nodded. “Me too.”
“You can stay with me if you want to,” Todd said. “I wouldn’t want to stay here if I were you.”
John turned around and walked past Todd. He stood in the open front door and stared out into the street. “I appreciate that, Todd, I really do, but I think I should stay here. If he comes back I’ll be ready for him.”
“I hope you’re right,” Todd said, walking towards the door.
The two men stepped onto the front porch. Todd looked for signs of life, but none could be seen. No cars. No pedestrians. It was the quietest Saturday Todd had ever seen. Either the residents of Myrtle Beach locked themselves in their houses or they fled the region altogether.
“You better go home and take care of your wife, Todd.”
“Keep in touch,” Todd said, walking down the few steps of the porch. Todd saw the sun low in the western sky and wished the day would last a bit longer. He knew what tomorrow would bring. More blood. More terror. And with the killer now stalking Detective Markley, he knew things would become even more intense.
When Todd reached the sidewalk before the sandy curbside where his car was parked, he turned around and looked at John one last time. For all he knew, it could have been the last time he saw John.
“We’ll get this guy,” John said.
Todd hoped he was right.
* * *
John Markley sat in his living room, staring at the locked front door. His head turned slightly to his left and he viewed the tall grandfather clock. He heard the subtle ticking of the clock. At half the speed of his own heartbeat, the clock did not calm him. It was twenty minutes till midnight and he was scared out of his mind.
After finding the note in his home earlier, he spent the rest of the day trying to come up with something to point him in the right direction. He thought of the countless houses he visited. Only a few people answered the doors. Most were not home or were too afraid to even answer their door. Of those who did answer their door, they could offer nothing in terms of eye-witness accounts or anything strange they had seen.
The clock announced that there were fifteen minutes remaining until witching hour. On the final tone of the chimes, John rose from the couch and walked to the front door. He peered out the peep hole and saw the light on his front porch. Beyond that light was an eerie twilight from the full moon that hung in the sky.
The killer knew where he lived. Perhaps he would return.
Or perhaps John would go mad from the paranoia he was now developing.
* * *
Todd used his fingers to move the hair from Melinda’s face as she lay in bed. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Her eyes opened slightly.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered. “I need to go check something really quick.”
“Okay, Todd,” Melinda said, half awake. “Hurry back.”
Todd stood up and walked from the bed. Out the door and down the hallway, he walked quickly. He descended the steps and once at the bottom, checked his holstered gun. He pressed two buttons on the alarm key pad and exited his house.
After he shut the front door he triple-checked the lock. The cool, night air splashed against his face as he ran to his car. Once in, he set the GPS to lead him to Markley’s house.
As he drove, he realized that the town looked the same at night. No cars, no pedestrians. Nothing. The only difference was that it was night and the street lamps took over where the sun left off. Todd thought of the citizens of Myrtle Beach, likely hiding in their houses still, losing sleep over the horror that descended upon their once relaxing town. No more boogie boarding, or strolling along the boardwalk. No more laying on the beach, getting the perfect tan. No more of the life that they knew.
At about three blocks from Markley’s house, he parked his car.
It was almost midnight and the streets were completely vacant, which didn’t surprise Todd. Markley’s street was devoid of the street lamps, but the full moon above was sufficient in lighting Todd’s way.
A vehicle rounded a corner up ahead and Todd saw its headlights light up a few houses before it would eventually shine in his direction. He rushed to the side of the street and flung himself behind a large shrub, avoiding detection by whoever was driving the vehicle. Between the branches, he could see that the headlights belonged to a white cargo van. He expected the van to continue on its way, but it slowed, eventually coming to a stop in front of John’s house.
Todd muttered under his breath: “Who do we have here?”
He moved behind a row of bushes, closer to the side of John’s house, yet still out of sight from the road. He saw a figure in the driver’s seat, but could not make out what the person looked like. Then the driver’s side door swung open and a man stepped out of the van. The engine puttered softly and broke the silence of the neighborhood.
The man wore black pants, a long-sleeve black shirt, white gloves, and a black cap that cloaked his face from the bright moonlight. Todd saw his scraggly hair as he turned around and opened the sliding side door of the van.
Todd’s eyes opened wide when he saw the man lift something from the van. “What the hell?”
Todd pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed John after he saw the one-legged body being carried onto the detective’s lawn.
“John,” Todd whispered into the phone. “He’s on your lawn. With a body. Hurry, we need to nab him.”
Todd pocketed his phone and reached for his pistol. He rushed from the bushes and saw the man throw a severed foot near the body. A sheet of paper fell from the
killer’s hand and was blown in the breeze slightly before landing several feet from the victim. The man walked to the paper and bent over to pick it up when Todd screamed at the top of his lungs. “Freeze!”
The killer did the opposite. He ran to the open driver’s door and jumped in before Todd fired his first shot. The bullet hit the side door of the van as the man slammed on the accelerator in time to avoid a bullet to his side.
Out of the corner of his eye, Todd saw John run from his house. Todd sprinted into the street but it was too late. There was no way he could see the license plate, though he now knew the vehicle the man drove and a few characteristics, though everything he knew could easily be changed. A change in vehicle. A change in clothes. A much-needed haircut.
“Did you see his face, Todd?” John asked.
“No,” Todd said. “I couldn’t see him.”
Todd walked to the sheet of paper the man dropped. He bent over and picked it up. “It just says ‘Can you guess who is next?’”
Todd looked at the body of the woman. He was certain that her last name began with a Y and he was just as certain that Detective John Markley was next on the list.
Day 7
With the seventh victim identified as Kelly Yates, thus completing the puzzle Todd figured out, it was now obvious who the next victim would be. John Markley would be the next to die.
Todd sat in John’s living room while the crime scene investigators finished combing the scene. The last few investigators lingered as the sun rose and abated the darkness.
“We need to get you out of here,” Todd said. “He’ll be coming for you next.”
“I’m not leaving,” John said. “I’m not letting that bastard push me out of my home, my town. I’m going to stay no matter what happens.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed if you stay here,” Todd said.
“That’s just a risk I’ll have to take.”
“Where are your wife and son?”
“They are somewhere safe,” John said. “Somewhere a little off the beaten trail.”
“Good,” Todd said.
“Yeah, but I’m still afraid that something will go wrong. I can handle this creep, but I can’t let him get near my family. He can come for me all he wants, but—”