Blood Eagle by Stephen Byrd - HTML preview

Blood Eagle

Stephen Byrd

Published by

Dreamscape Books

Columbia, Tennessee

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2025 by Dreamscape Books.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

Cover Design by GetCovers

ISBN: 9798309224999

Printed in the United States of America

February, 2025

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Chapter 1

The sun was setting. It would be dark soon, and the October nights could get pretty cold. It wasn’t cold enough yet to freeze you, but if you didn’t have a warm place to sleep it could be mighty uncomfortable. Howard had slept on a gravel lot the past two nights, and he was hoping to find a nice grassy patch for once. He had a ratty old blanket, and he used his coat for a pillow. As long as it didn’t rain, he would be fine.

In the bigger cities, like Nashville and Knoxville, there were bridges and overpasses that homeless people could camp under. There were camps, shelters, churches and other resources for homeless people. But here in the city of Greenwell, surrounded by farmland to the west, the Great Smoky Mountains to the east and dense forest to the north and south, there were no such things available. Howard had been run out of town multiple times, only to be picked up by police in the next county over and brought back to Greenwell.

There was a sizable homeless population in Greenwell, about seventy-five people in all. But unlike the bigger cities, the homeless in Greenwell rarely banded together to help each other. It was every man, or woman, for themselves. Howard missed that about Nashville. When the weather would get cold, they would burn trash in an old metal barrel, and gather around the fire for warmth. He had never been turned away.

There were an awful lot of churches here, but none who would open their doors to the homeless. Churches here were locked up at night, with no staff or volunteers to help the poor. There were no homeless shelters, and most everyone Howard had talked to about sleeping on their property had shooed him away. His own sister wouldn’t even give him a place to sleep, now that she had been elected to public office.

Howard had been on the streets for about ten years now. He used to have a home, a car, a job. He paid his bills, and had a happy life. Until it all went south. He started having flashbacks, became fearful of people, paranoid. It made work difficult, and he eventually lost his job. Without his income, he soon lost his car and his house. He’d been on the streets ever since. He knew where to find food, and he could usually find shelter when it was required. Most of the time he stayed out in the open, but on rainy days he could always find someplace dry to wait out a storm. 

He supposed he was lucky. Some people don’t have what it takes to survive without their expensive lifestyles and high-tech gadgets. Howard knew that whatever life threw at him, he could handle it. He’d been handling it for ten years. 

There was a large grassy strip on the shoulder of the highway. Howard didn’t particularly like the idea of sleeping so close to the road, but it was better than sleeping in the gravel lot again. And he was far enough out of town that the traffic would be light, and he should be okay unless a State Trooper came along to run him off. 

He had an old folding chair in a carry bag that someone had donated to him a long time ago. He took it off his back and set it up on the shoulder of the road. This is where he would camp tonight. He sat in the chair to rest his aching feet. They were blistered from wearing shoes that were too small with no socks.

Howard opened his pack and took out a can of beans and his bottle of water. He sat in his chair and ate slowly. It felt good to sit after a long day of walking. He tried to do useful work during the day, like picking up trash on the side of the road. Of course, he had to spend a little time trying to find necessities like food and water, but the rest of his time was spent being productive. He doubted that anybody noticed the service he provided to the community. He was invisible to most people, they just overlooked him. 

The lack of thanks wouldn’t stop him from doing his part. It wasn’t for other people that he did it, it was for himself. Being homeless stripped you of any pride or dignity that you had. Howard picked up trash so that he could take pride in doing a day’s work, even if nobody else recognized it or appreciated it.

After he ate, he put his trash into a bag and lay down on the cool ground. The grass felt soft, much softer than the gravel lot. He bunched up his coat underneath his head and spread his blanket over him. Several cars came by, but as darkness fell the traffic slowed and Howard drifted off to sleep.

It felt as though he had only been asleep a couple of minutes when he heard the car stop. Howard prepared himself for an inevitable encounter with a State Trooper. They were the only ones who stopped this far out, and the Trooper would want him to pack up and move on somewhere else. He tensed up, waiting to be kicked by a steel toed boot. When the kick never came, Howard opened one eye. There was someone standing over him, either a woman or a man of smaller stature. It was difficult to tell with the car’s headlights. All Howard could see was a silhouette. Those headlights were bright. He put his arm up to block the light that was shining in his eyes. A voice said, “Shhh. It’s all going to be okay now.” He still couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. The silhouette was no longer standing in front of him, but those headlights were still shining in his eyes. Howard felt a blinding pain in his head, and spots began to flash in his eyes. He heard the sickening cracking sound as something hard made contact with his skull.

Chapter 2

Margot Thompson whipped her car into the turn lane and pressed the accelerator. She didn’t have time to be sitting in all this traffic. As she reached the intersection, she zipped back into the left lane to proceed through the light. If she didn’t hurry, she would be late for the ceremony. And it would not look good at all for the County Mayor to be late for the ribbon-cutting ceremony at the new steel mill, her pet project that was going to create two hundred new jobs in Fulton County. 

As she raced toward the site of the new mill, Margot rehearsed her speech in her head. She hated these things, but she had to put on a good face for the public. She needed their votes to win re-election. The jobs this mill created would put two hundred more votes in her pocket. 

When she was only a block away from the site, her phone rang. It was Ray Greene, the sheriff. Margot ignored the call. Whatever it was, it would have to wait until after the ceremony. She didn’t have time for anything else right now, and Ray had a scheduled meeting with her later today.

Margot arrived at the new mill and hurried to the platform that had been set up out front. A large red ribbon stretched across the front of the building, and the platform was centered just behind the ribbon. Margot climbed the steps, and shook hands with Richard Bradbury, the new site manager. 

Richard was in his mid-thirties, not bad looking, about five and a half feet tall and slender. He had piercing blue eyes and short blonde hair. Margot thought he was nice man, based on her previous interactions with him. Richard had been integral in getting the new mill opened in Greenwell. 

The site was technically within the city limits of the City of Greenwell, but since the city and county governments were integrated, Margot didn’t have to share credit for the new mill with any city politicians. 

Richard introduced himself, and then Margot. She delivered her speech and together they cut the ribbon, smiled for the cameras, and gave quotes to the reporters who showed up for the event. 

When it was over, Margot was in a hurry to leave. It wasn’t any pressing matters of local government that caused her to rush, although that was the excuse she used. She just really hated these things. The press, the crowd, the speech, the smiling, it was all just too much for her. She said her goodbyes, then hurried back to her Lexus. 

She was back at her office fifteen minutes later, ready to hide behind a closed door for a while and let her nerves recoup. But when she opened her door, Ray Greene was sitting in her office, looking serious. She sighed. She had forgotten about Ray. 

“Mayor, we have a problem.”

“What is it now, Ray?”

“Well, you know my deputies keep tabs on the homeless population around here.”

“Yes, what’s your point?”

“Well, they have been noticing a decrease in the number of homeless people.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Well, it’s suspicious. It just started a few nights ago. Two or three each night are disappearing.”

“Again, isn’t that a good thing?”

“Mayor, be serious. I suspect foul play.”

“I am being serious. I don’t give a damn about the homeless. Homeless people don’t vote, they don’t work, they don’t want a hand up, they want a hand-out. I have no patience or tolerance for them, and if they’re leaving here, I say good riddance to ‘em.”

“Mayor, we believe Howard is among the ones missing.”

“What do you mean? Howard was out on highway 212 two days ago, picking up trash.”

“Yes, but nobody’s seen him since then.”

“You’re telling me that my brother is missing, and nobody knows where he is?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well, that’s Howard for you. He runs off, tries to make his way back to Nashville. Panhandling’s better there. Bunch of liberals who just can’t wait to throw their money away on junkies and lazy lowlifes. He’ll be back.”

“Mayor, I don’t think so. Usually when there’s movement of this many people, my deputies know about it. They’re concerned, and so am I. I want to bring in an investigator, someone who can find out what’s happening to these missing people.”

“Don’t you have a detective on your department?”

“No. Not since the last one quit. And we don’t have it in the budget to send anybody back to the academy to train as a detective. Right now, our only option is to call in Grant Bell.”

“Grant Bell!? Oh, hell no! Shit! You are not calling in that drunken sot to run any investigation in this county, and I don’t care if it is a frivolous pursuit to begin with. Grant Bell is not a county employee, nor will he ever be while I’m the mayor. We don’t work with amateurs, and certainly not those who can’t stay sober longer than ten minutes. Grant Bell! Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“Now, Mayor, he’s the only trained and certified detective in Fulton County.”

“I don’t care what training or certification he has. He’s a drunk, and he couldn’t investigate his way out of a bottle long enough to find his own balls. We’re not calling Grant Bell.”

“Now, Mayor- “

“Don’t you patronize me with that ‘now, mayor’ bullshit. I said no and that’s the end of it. Have your deputies look into it if you want to, but I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

“What if something bad did happen to Howard? How would you be able to live with yourself, knowing that you refused to call someone to get justice for him?”

“That’s dirty, Ray.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Fine. Call him. Just keep him away from me. Tell his assistant, that queer fella, to send the invoices to the county clerk’s office. And tell him not to charge us an arm and leg. I don’t want people finding out that we’re paying an alcoholic to do the job of the sheriff’s department.”

Chapter 3

Grant stumbled into the office. His assistant, JJ, was already at his desk and working. Grant started to remove his shades, and immediately put them back on. His head hurt, and the bright fluorescent lights overhead just made it worse. 

“Drunk again, huh?” JJ asked, and not quietly.

“Shhh. I have a headache.” Grant hissed through his teeth.

“I bet you do. If I drank an entire bottle of bourbon in one night, I’d have a headache too.”

“It wasn’t an entire bottle. And don’t yell so loudly.”

“I’m not yelling. This is my normal voice.”

JJ went back to his work and Grant went into his office. He turned off the lights and sat down in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk. A couple of minutes later, JJ entered the room with a cup of coffee. 

“Oh God, you stink.” JJ said. “You smell like you took a bath in bourbon and rolled around in a chimney.”

“Go away.” Grant said.

JJ set the coffee on the desk and backed out of the room, closing the door as he left. Grant sipped at the coffee. He could smell himself and JJ was right. He stunk. He rifled through his coat rack and found a clean shirt. He changed, and sprayed himself with deodorant body spray. 

Grant could hear the phone ringing in the outer office where JJ’s desk was. Whatever menial, low-paying job was coming in, he was not interested in it. He stormed out of his office to tell JJ to decline it.

JJ was on the phone, and listening intently to the other side of the conversation. Grant started to interrupt, but JJ held up his index finger. Grant stood impatiently.

“Yes, sir. I understand. I’ll get him started on it right away. Thank you for calling.”

“JJ, did you just accept a job?” Grant asked through gritted teeth.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you need to work. How else are you going to pay me? You’ve already turned down three jobs this week, the last one being that lawyer for Josh Barnow who wanted to catch his wife cheating on him. That was a bad case, probably a good thing you turned that one down. Turns out, he was cheating on her too and got involved with that crazy girl, Cheyenne, who works over at the nursing home. Terrible situation. And now he’s with that doctor from Nashville, whatever her name is. We’ll see how that one turns out-”

“JJ, what was the job?” Grant interrupted.

“What job?”

“The one you just accepted on my behalf.”

“Oh, that job. Ray Greene wants you to look into some missing homeless people.”

“What else did he say?”

“Only that the mayor ain’t stopped cussin’ since your name was brought up.”

“No surprise there. That old bat hates me. Is the sheriff going to brief us on the details of the case?”

“Yeah, he’s on his way over here.”

“Okay. We’ll meet with him in your office.” JJ’s outer office looked neat and immaculate, while Grant’s office looked like a tornado had just ripped through it.

“I figured as much. I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee on, too.”

“Thank you, JJ.”

“You’re welcome, you old drunk bastard.”

Grant went back into his office. He tried to remind himself why he ever hired JJ. It hadn’t been because JJ was his first choice. Grant had decided that he needed an assistant and tried to recruit Kristen Jacobs right out of high school. She had turned the job down, but her older brother John applied for it. Nobody else did. JJ had been a good assistant, and had done a good job helping Grant for the past several years. He was a sassy thing, but he was equal-opportunity sassy. He got smart with everybody. And he was so damn flamboyant. Grant wasn’t homophobic or anything, but he wished JJ would tone it down just a little, especially when there were clients or guests in the office.

Grant tried to make himself as presentable as possible. He put eye drops in his eyes, straightened his shirt and made sure the buttons were all lined up, and he sprayed himself with the body spray again. 

“Quit spraying that shit!” JJ yelled from the outer office. “You’re gonna smell like a French whore and you’re gonna stink up the whole office in the process.”

Grant put the spray bottle down. He double checked himself in the mirror to make sure his appearance was presentable. He walked from his officer to the outer office just as Ray Greene was stepping out of the elevator. 

“Gentlemen. Good morning. I won’t waste your time; I’ll get right to it.” As the sheriff spoke Grant noticed that he looked much older than his 57 years. “As you know, my deputies check up on the homeless folks each evening. It’s something the mayor had us start doing back last year when we had that freezing weather. Coldest winter on record. Her brother is among the homeless here in Greenwell, and she wanted us to make sure they all didn’t freeze to death. And we’ve been checking on them every day since. Come evening, we count them. Every night. There are, or were, exactly seventy-two homeless people living in Greenwell. Been that same number for over a year. Sometimes we count less, but within a day or two the missing ones show back up.”

Grant asked, “So how can we help you?”

“Well, it’s more of a suspicion, really. We’ve noticed that over the last three nights, the homeless population of Greenwell is decreasing by three to four people each night. The first night, we didn’t think anything of it. The second night was an oddity, but by the third night, last night, we were starting to get concerned. We’ve never seen a pattern like this. And one of the people missing is the mayor’s brother, Howard. We’d like for you to find out what’s happening to the homeless here in Greenwell, and find Howard.”

Chapter 4

After the sheriff left, Grant said, “Come on, JJ. We’ve got to talk to the homeless folks and see what they know.”

“Uh uh. Oh, no. JJ don’t do investigative work. JJ is an administrative assistant. I don’t know what ‘we’ you’re talking about.”

“Well, I’m promoting you.”

“What kind of raise do I get with this promotion?”

“No raise, just the thanks and appreciation of your boss.”

“Thanks and appreciation don’t pay my car payment.”

“Speaking of your car, I’m gonna need you to drive.”

“Oh, hell no. I don’t want the smell of body odor, cigarette smoke and booze in my car.”

“JJ, they’re homeless. They can’t help it.”

“I’m talking about you.”

“Just get your keys, and let’s go.” Grant was getting annoyed. JJ’s sassy attitude was usually funny, but Grant wasn’t in the mood today.

JJ grabbed his keys and they took the elevator to the parking garage. JJ drove a bright red Mustang and Grant waited at the passenger side door while JJ unlocked it. 

They drove around for several hours, the homeless people they encountered were less than helpful. Most of them didn’t want to talk to Grant, and just walked away, the few that did talk to him didn’t know anything. In the early afternoon, Grant’s phone rang. It was the sheriff.

“Hello?” Grant answered.

“Mr. Bell, this is Ray Greene. One of my deputies has found a body. We’re at the corner of Eighth Avenue and Main Street, in the alley behind the grocery store. Looks like a homeless man, and it’s pretty gruesome. We’re waiting for you.”

“I’m on my way.” Grant hung up the phone. “Let’s go, JJ. The grocery store at Eighth and Main. They’ve found a body.”

“Aww hell. Why do I have to go with you to see this shit? I don’t wanna see this shit. Dammit all to hell. And at the grocery story of all places. I’ll never be able to shop there again.”

“Quit your bitching and let’s go. I’d like to look at the crime scene before all the cops contaminate it.”

JJ did an illegal U-turn and sped down Main Street in the direction of the grocery store. When they arrived a crowd of onlookers had gathered just outside the police tape at the end of the alley. The unmistakable outline of a body on the ground was covered with a white sheet, with blood just starting to soak into it.

Grant pushed his way through the crowd and stepped across the police line. He identified himself to the officers, who let him through. JJ, on the other hand, waited at the yellow tape. The sheriff met Grant beside the body and warned, “It’s pretty gruesome. Adult male, late forties to early fifties. He’s a John Doe for now. Bastard cut him up and ripped out his lungs.” The sheriff lifted the sheet for Grant to see the body.

John Doe was lying face down on the asphalt, the sheet bulging upward over his back. Grant was taken aback when the sheriff lifted the sheet. The man’s back had been sliced open, his ribs cut and twisted backwards and lungs removed. 

“Have you ever seen anything so heinous?” The sheriff asked.

“It’s called a Blood Eagle.” Grant replied. “It’s a form of Viking torture. The back is sliced open, the ribs are pulled out to resemble wings, and then the lungs are taken out. The victim almost always bleeds to death before that point, though. Notice how little blood there is on the ground. This isn’t where he was killed, this is just a dump site.”

The sheriff had an impressed expression on his face. “Know a lot about Viking torture, do you?”

“I read.” Grant surveyed the ground near the body. Seeing no evidence lying about, he started snapping photos of the body with his phone. When he had finished, he told the sheriff it was okay to move the body. EMT’s sprang forward from the crowd, carrying their stretcher. As they loaded the body, Grant said to the sheriff, “There is no evidence here. We might get lucky and find something on a traffic camera, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. You can release the scene whenever you are ready, I’m done here.”

The sheriff nodded and Grant walked back to the police tape where JJ was waiting. “Let’s go.” He said. “There’s nothing more to see here.”

“Are you sure?” JJ asked. “That was an awful quick investigation. Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Because that ain’t how they do it on TV. You didn’t collect any DNA, or footprints, or fingerprints or nothing.”

“Get in the car and let’s go.” Grant said through gritted teeth. JJ opened his mouth as if he were going to say something further, then thought better of it. He got in the driver’s side of the car and started the engine. Grant slid in the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt.

After driving in silence for several minutes, JJ once again spoke up. “So what do we know about the case, Mr. I-Don’t-Need-To-Collect-Any-Clues?”

“Well, we know that several homeless people are missing. One of them turned up dead, tortured and killed and dumped outside the grocery store. I have a feeling we’re dealing with a serial killer, and that there are going to be more bodies before we stop him.” Grant replied.

JJ’s attitude changed to one of astonishment. “A serial killer? Right here in Greenwell? Wow. A real-life serial killer? How are we going to stop him?”

“We? I thought you only did administrative work?” Grant wasn’t about to miss an opportunity to use JJ’s own words against him.

“You know what I mean. So, answer me. How are we going to stop him?” JJ persisted.

“We’re going to have to find out who he is first. And that means talking to the homeless people some more.”

Chapter 5

Howard woke with a splitting headache. He was lying on the cold concrete floor of a dark room. He could hear the rattling of chains, which just made his headache worse. He could sense the presence of other people in the room, maybe two or three of them, judging by the sounds of the chains moving. He was, himself, chained to the wall by his wrists and ankles. The chain was just long enough to allow him to move around some, but kept him confined to the area he was in. The coppery smell of blood filled the air.

“Where am I?” Howard asked out loud, his voice trembling with fear. He could hear the faint echo of his voice off of the concrete walls and floor.

“Nobody knows where we are.” The voice came out of the darkness, sounding just as fearful as Howard’s. “We don’t know where we are, or who is doing this to us.”

“What’s being done to us?” Howard asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

“It’s torture.” Came the reply, the voice sounding smaller and more fearful than before. “There were three of us at first. I was the only one left until you were brought in.”

“What happened to the other two?”

“Well, when he comes for us we can hear screams and smell blood. It goes on for what seems like forever. And then when we are dead, we’ll be carried out and dumped somewhere.”

Fear gripped Howard tightly. His heart started beating faster and a feeling of dread came over him. He felt a tightness in his chest and had to remind himself to focus on his breathing. He had been a Marine, and they don’t scare easily. As the panic started to subside, Howard realized he needed to escape. He needed a way out.

Desperation began to set in as he realized that the chains were too strong to break, and he didn’t know how to pick the locks. He would have to wait and fight. Finally, he introduced himself to his fellow captive. “My name is Howard. What’s yours?” He asked.

“Anna. I was camping out on the side of the highway when somebody stopped and hit me in the head. I blacked out and woke up here. How did you end up here?”

“Nice to meet you, Anna. I wish it were under better circumstances. My story is the same as yours, actually. I was asleep on the side of the road when I heard a car stop. Somebody hit me in the head and I woke up here.”

“That bastard. He’s kidnapping us off the streets and killing us.” Howard detected bitterness and anger in Anna’s voice. Just then he heard the faint sound of someone softly snoring.

“Is there someone else in here with us?” he asked.

“Just Mark. He came in after me, but before you. He’s a big guy, big enough to whip both of us at the same time. But he’s kinda simple, you know? Mentally handicapped, I think is the right word. He’s like a kid. I kinda envy him, being able to sleep in a time like this.”

“When was the last time someone…” Howard trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

“When was the last time someone was killed? It hasn’t been long. Less than a day, I would say. It’s hard to tell time in the dark, but the last one hasn’t been that long ago. And before you ask, there’s no pattern to which one he chooses next. At least, not that I’ve seen. It could be any one of us.”

He shuddered at the thought of being the next one to die. He tried to mentally prepare himself for the coming fight, as he did not intend to go quietly or easily. But it had been many years since his Marine days, and he was out of shape. Picking up trash didn’t do as much for his physique as daily physical training sessions would have. Maybe if he were a few years younger and a few pounds lighter a fight would be in his favor. But he still intended to give it his all.

He would have to wait until the chains were released. In that moment, he would attack. He would punch, bite, kick, whatever it took to defeat his captor. Then he would free Anna and Mark, and they would run for the door. Not only would the three of them survive, but he would be a hero. He might even get his picture in the newspaper.

Lost in thought, he didn’t hear the big, heavy door opening at first. Then bright fluorescent overhead lights blinded him. Heavy footsteps could be heard echoing on the concrete floor, stopping near the sound of Mark’s snoring. A heavy thud was heard, followed by Mark screaming. Howard assumed he had been kicked.

“What’s going on?” Mark asked.

“Time to wake up.” The voice was familiar. Howard recognized it as the same voice that had spoken to him on the side of the road, just before he was hit in the head. He smelled the chloroform as his eyes finally adjusted to the light. They were in a windowless room, probably a basement. Blood was puddled on the floor near a large workbench. There were tools scattered on the workbench. The cinder block walls were dingy and dark-colored.

The man was standing over Mark. Howard didn’t have a good view of him because Anna was in the way. He could see enough to tell that the man had a chloroform-soaked rag in his hand and was holding it over Mark’s face. Mark’s muffled screams made Howard’s blood curdle.

He wanted to yell at the man, to tell him to stop and leave Mark alone. But he was afraid that if he did so, he would be the next victim. And as he realized that the man would make sure he was unconscious before unfastening the chains, the hope of fighting off his captor sank.

Chapter 6

Margot was sitting at her desk, tending to mundane tasks of county government. Her mind, however, wandered back to her conversation with the sheriff about Howard. When she could finally stand it no longer, she pressed the intercom button on her phone and instructed her assistant to get the sheriff on the phone. She waited impatiently for the buzzing sound to let her know that the call was ready, and when she heard it she snatched up the receiver.

“Ray? What’s the update on the missing homeless people?”

“Why, Mayor, I thought you didn’t want to be bothered with this case.”

“Don’t jerk me around, Ray. I want answers.”

“Well, we found a body today. It’s a John Doe. Looks homeless, he was cut up and tortured. Grant said it was some kind of Viking ritual.”

“Grant said - I want that clown off this case! It sounds to me like we’ve got a serial killer on our hands, and my brother could be the next victim. I want a real detective working the case. Call in the FBI if you have to.”

“Now, Mayor. You know as well as I do that the FBI wouldn’t accept this case. And Grant’s doing a fine job so far. It’s still too early in the investigation to know anything yet. Give the man time to round up some clues, and do his job. In the meantime, I have deputies canvassing the homeless folks to see what they know.”

“I’m not kidding around, Ray. I want this joker arrested and this case settled yesterday. If Grant Bell is not up to the task, I want him replaced.”

“There’s no need for that yet. I’m sure he’s up to it. Besides, you know I don’t have anybody to replace him with.”

A knock at the door reminded Margot that she had a meeting. “Ray, I’ve got to go. But I want to be kept in the loop on this, and I want it solved immediately.” She hung up the receiver before the sheriff could respond.

Her assistant opened the door and Richard Bradbury walked in with another man Margot did not know. “Mayor Thompson, I’d like you to meet Robert Cooper, our head of human resources. He’ll be integral in the hiring process as we create over two hundred new jobs here in Fulton County.”

Robert stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you Madam Mayor.”

“Likewise, Mr. Cooper.” Margot shook his hand firmly. She tried to focus on the business of building the new steel mill, but her mind kept wandering back to Howard and the missing homeless people. Despite her disdain for the homeless, she didn’t want to see them killed. Mr. Cooper droned on about job creation and population growth, but she was only half listening.

Finally, she asked, “How many of those jobs will go to local folks? I mean, I’ve heard you talk about how the new mill will attract population growth, and folks will be coming to the area looking for work, but what will you do for the people who are already here? Say, the homeless who are looking for work?”

“Well…” Robert shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked to Richard.

Richard spoke up. “We will decrease your homeless population by about one-third. That’s what we did in other towns where we’ve built new mills. We give hiring priority to local residents first, including those who are homeless and looking for jobs. Now, we can’t solve your homeless problem altogether, because, let’s face it. The homeless are a blight on society, and the majority of them don’t want jobs. We can’t help those individuals. But for the ones who want to work, we’ll be happy to hire them on.”

“Good. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have another meeting to get to.” Margot stood abruptly, and both men scrambled to their feet. As she ushered them out the door, she felt bad for lying, but she wasn’t in the mood to deal with new business while her brother was still missing. Besides that, there was something about Richard’s response to her question that felt creepy.

“Oh, Howard.” She said out loud in her empty office. “Why are you always making a mess for me to clean up?”

Chapter 7

Grant was getting frustrated. For two days he had been pounding the streets, begging for information about John Doe’s killer and warning the homeless to protect themselves. In the mid-afternoon, his phone rang. It was the sheriff.

“Mr. Bell, this is Ray Greene. We’ve found another body, and this time the scene is even worse than the first one. You’d better get over here. We’re at the bank on Main Street.”

Hearing the sheriff on speakerphone, JJ wheeled the car around and sped toward the bank. When they arrived, Grant jumped out of the car before JJ could get it fully parked. He ran around behind the bank, across the police line and to where the sheriff was standing.

He surveyed the scene, and just as the sheriff had said it was much more gruesome than the first. The body was face down, flayed open from the back, with giant puddles of blood on the ground, the ribs had been inverted and the lungs were missing. As he looked, a partial footprint in the blood caught his eye. He took a tape measure from his pocket and photographed it beside the footprint.

Also near the pool of blood was a matchbook. Grant photographed it and picked it up by the edges. It bore the logo of The Honeysuckle Inn. He dropped it into an evidence bag and stuck it in his pocket. As he took the routine photographs of the body, the sheriff walked up and asked, “So what’s different about this crime scene?”

“Well,“ Grant replied, “The victim was killed here. At the last crime scene, it was just a body dump. I’m guessing the killer made a huge mess trying to transport the body last time and learned to wait until he got to his destination to kill them. It looks like he may have dropped something as well.” Grant showed the matchbook to the sheriff.

“Good. I’ll have our fingerprint technician run that for prints. If we get a hit, we may just crack this case wide open.”

Just then a deputy walked up to the sheriff and spoke quietly. Grant could not hear what he was saying. The sky darkened, and rumbling thunder threatened to wash away the remaining evidence from the crime scene. When the deputy was finished, the sheriff turned back to Grant and said, “It looks like we might have a witness and an ID on the body.”

Grant took a long final look at the crime scene. He noticed a piece of paper, partially covered in blood. He photographed it, and picked it up. It was a receipt from a coffee shop, and the name on the receipt was Richard B. He placed the receipt in an evidence bag.

The sheriff led the way to the edge of the crime scene. Just on the other side of the tape stood an elderly homeless woman. “Are you Mrs. Berta?” The sheriff asked the woman. She nodded. “Can you tell us what you saw?” The sheriff prodded.

“I seen a man dragging Janie there out of the trunk of his car. He took out a big knife and started cutting on her. I ran away from there as fast as I could.”

“Did you see what kind of car it was?” Grant asked.

“Sure did. It was a 1985 Cadillac Fleetwood. Silver. I used to have one exactly like it, except mine was brown. Lost it when I lost everything else back in ‘92.”

“Okay. We’ll be in touch. Thank you for your help.” Grant said. Just then he heard the sound of a backup alarm from a vehicle backing up. He looked and saw the van from the funeral home had arrived.

“Well, they got here quick.” Grant said to the sheriff. “I guess they’re trying to get the body out of here before the rain starts.” He watched as two funeral home employees gingerly placed the body on a stretcher and loaded it into the van.

“Yeah, Dickie doesn’t like to work in the rain.” The sheriff replied.

“Dickie?” Grant asked.

“Dickie Brewer. He’s running the funeral home now. He’ll be calling me this afternoon to complain about nobody paying for the embalming and casket for a homeless person. I swear, he hates the homeless just as much as the mayor does. And he hates being called Dickie.” The sheriff chuckled. “Anyway, I’ll put out a BOLO on the silver Cadillac, see what we come up with, and I’ll have my fingerprint tech run that matchbook for prints. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

As the sheriff was finishing his statement, the sky opened up and began pouring rain. Grant sprinted back to the car where JJ was waiting in the driver’s seat.

“You smell like an old wet dog.” JJ said as Grant buckled his seatbelt.

“And you drive like you’re trying to qualify for NASCAR.” Grant retorted. “Try not to kill us in this rain, please.”

JJ responded with a “hmph” and pressed on the accelerator. “Did you at least collect some evidence this time? Or are you too good of a detective to need clues to solve a case? We talking to more homeless people tomorrow?”

“I’ll have you know; I did find some clues this time. I learned a lot about our killer, and we have some work to do when we get back to the office. I want you to get me a list of all registered silver 1985 Cadillac Fleetwoods in the county.”

“You already know what kind of car the killer was driving? Just from one crime scene? How on earth did you figure that out? You some kind of Sherlock Holmes or something?”

“There was a witness who saw the car. Let’s hurry up and get back, I want to get this thing solved as quickly as possible. Whoever owns that car is likely our killer.”

Chapter 8

When they arrived back at the office, JJ set about the task of running vehicle registrations for the silver Cadillac. Grant recapped what he already knew about the case. “Okay. So we have this guy, he kidnaps Howard and four or five other homeless people. He’s got to be keeping them somewhere, so we’re looking for someone with a house that has some privacy. He kills John Doe, then transports the body to the grocery store and dumps him in the alley. He makes a mess in his car, so when he kills Janie, he takes her to the bank to do it. He’s driving a silver 1985 Cadillac Fleetwood and his name is Richard B. He may or may not be linked to the Honeysuckle Inn. Did I miss anything?”

“No, I think you pretty well covered it all. I’ve never seen you this bright-eyed before. You’re enjoying this. And you didn’t come in hung over this morning.”

“I’m not enjoying this, JJ. Two people are dead and more are missing. How are those vehicle registrations coming?”

“Just finishing up the search now. It looks like there are four silver 1985 Cadillac Fleetwoods registered in Fulton County. One is registered to Alma Hickman, who is seventy-five, and the oldest living beautician in the state. The old bat fried my hair last time I was in there. The next one is registered to Elaine Brewer, who died last month. That’s Dickie Brewer’s mama. Must have been hard on him, having to do his own mama’s funeral. There’s one registered to Carl Cotter, over at the feed store. His wife left him last week for another man. And looky here, the last one is registered to Richard Bradbury. And the address it’s registered at is the Honeysuckle Inn. That’s got to be our Richard B. I don’t know anything about him.”

“He’s been in the newspaper. He’s the manager of the new steel mill they’re building. And he came to town just before the disappearances started. But he’s not keeping his victims at the Honeysuckle Inn. Where would he have room to keep them?”

“How about the construction site? There would be plenty of room there to hide people.”

“Yes, that’s possible. Get Ray Greene on the phone for me, would you?” Grant strutted into his office and sat down at the desk. He waited for the red light to indicate that the sheriff was on hold and picked up the receiver.

“Sheriff? It’s Grant Bell. We have our first suspect in the case.” Grant relayed all of the information he had gleaned about Richard Bradbury.

When he had finished, the sheriff was silent for a moment, then said, “Richard Bradbury, huh? It sounds compelling, but it’s all circumstantial. If you go after Richard Bradbury with circumstantial evidence, the mayor will eat you alive. That new steel mill is one of her pet projects. Let me set up some surveillance on him and see what that turns up. How sure are you that this is our guy?”

“Well, I’m not positive, but like you said the evidence is pretty compelling. And JJ and I can handle the surveillance. We’ll set up a stakeout and follow him, see where he goes and who he interacts with.”

“All right. In the meantime, it’s probably best that nobody mentions this to the mayor. That is one hornet’s nest I don’t want to stir up until I have to.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.” Grant finished his conversation with the sheriff and hung up the phone. “JJ!” he yelled.

The office door opened and JJ came swishing into the room. “You have an intercom, you know. You do know how to use the intercom, don’t you? If you use the intercom, you won’t have to yell.”

Grant brushed past him and said, “Grab your gear. We’re going on a stakeout.”

“Gear? What gear? I don’t have any gear!”

“Just come on. Get your keys and let’s go.”

“I should have taken that job at the Piggly Wiggly.”

“It’s not too late for me to fire you!”

“You can’t fire me, you old drunk bastard. You’ll never figure out how this office works.” JJ grabbed his keys off the desk and ran to the door where Grant was waiting. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was excited about getting to do real detective work. He secretly admired Grant’s skill as a detective, although you could never tell it from their banter. Grant knew that JJ admired and looked up to him, but his pride would never let him show it. He thought of JJ as a younger brother, one that he never had growing up.

In the car, Grant buckled his seatbelt. He was concerned about JJ’s driving being too conspicuous, so he suggested that they switch places.

“You? Drive my car? Oh, hell naw! I don’t think so. You just buckle up and hold on, Miss Daisy.” JJ said with attitude. He steered the car out onto the street and Grant heard the engine roar as he was thrown backward in his seat. A car honked at them as JJ sped through a yellow light that was just turning red.

“Do you know what yellow means?” Grant asked.

“Yeah. It means speed up because it’s about to turn red.”

“NO! JJ, yellow means slow down and stop because the light is about to turn red.”

“Where did you learn how to drive? A driving school for old ladies?”

“Better than the race track where you learned. Just get us to the construction site without killing us.”

As they zipped across town, Grant’s grip on the door handle got tighter. He thought about unbuckling his seatbelt to make a dive from the car if it looked like they were going to crash. He tried to imagine the probability of surviving such a move. From the passenger seat he couldn’t see the speedometer, but he knew they were moving much faster than the posted 55 mile per hour limit.

They reached the job site for the new steel mill in record time. JJ parked the car in the employee parking lot, and Grant spotted their suspect’s Cadillac parked nearby. From their vantage point they could see the car, but not the job site. Grant looked around to make sure no one was watching, then he walked over and looked in the windows of the car. It was impressively clean. He walked back to JJ’s flashy Mustang and got back in the passenger seat. “It’s clean. No blood stains or anything. He could have had it cleaned, or transported the body in the trunk, but the interior of the car is clean.”

“So, what do we do now?” JJ asked.

“We wait, and watch the car. When he gets in it, we follow him.”

“Oh, this is going to be boring. What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Watch the car.”

JJ settled down in his seat and tried to look mad. Grant could tell that he secretly liked being in the field, rather than chained to a desk, though he tried hard not to show it. Grant wiggled around in his seat until he was comfortable, and settled down for a long wait until Richard Bradbury would leave the job site. While they waited, he turned on the radio and scanned the channels until he found a country music station. The DJ was playing an old Don Williams tune, and Grant began to sing along.

“Oh, this is hell.” JJ complained.

Chapter 9

After about an hour of waiting, Grant noticed movement near the car he was watching. It was Richard Bradbury, leaving for the day. JJ was watching videos on his phone and Grant poked him in the ribs. “Hey, that’s our guy! Let’s follow him and see where he goes.”

JJ gave him a couple of minutes to get far enough ahead of them, then began following the Cadillac. With his lead foot, however, he quickly closed the gap.

“Not too close. We don’t want to tip him off that he’s being followed.” Grant warned.

“I know how to follow somebody. You just sit back and ride.” JJ pressed on the accelerator again and the car lurched forward as the engine roared. After driving through several intersections, their quarry suddenly sped up. JJ matched his speed, determined not to lose sight of the Cadillac. He was so focused on the chase he didn’t notice the patrol car pull in behind him until he heard the siren. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw blue lights flashing behind him. He pulled the car to the right, and the police officer pulled in behind him.

Frustrated, JJ banged his fist on the dashboard. The Cadillac disappeared in the distance. JJ looked in his mirror again and saw a very angry deputy approaching his car. He rolled down his window.

“Do you want to explain to me why you’re doing seventy-nine in a thirty-five zone through the middle of my town?” The deputy demanded as he approached JJ’s window.

“Well, I was chasing a murder suspect until you let him get away.” JJ replied. Grant slid down in his seat and covered his face with his hands.

“Murder suspect, huh? You think you’re a cop?” Before JJ could answer, the officer barked “License, registration and proof of insurance. Now.”

JJ handed the documents out the window and tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel while the deputy wrote out his ticket. When the deputy walked back up to JJ’s window, he thrust a clipboard inside and said, “Sign here. Press hard, three copies.” After JJ signed, the deputy tore off a copy of the ticket and handed it back to him. He waited until the deputy returned to his car and pulled away before putting the Mustang back in gear and driving off.

Grant said, “Well, that was tense. We’ve lost Richard Bradbury, and if we see him again, he’ll most definitely recognize this car. We might as well go get something for dinner and call it a day.”

“I know just the place. We’re gonna eat good tonight.” JJ made a sharp right turn into a residential neighborhood and pulled up in front of a brick house with a neatly manicured yard and several flower beds.

“This is Nana Jacobs’s house. She’s the best cook in Fulton County, and she always has plenty for visitors. If you leave here hungry, it’s your own fault.” JJ said. He jumped out of the car and ran in the house, Grant following close behind, albeit slower.

“Nana!” JJ called out as he entered the house.

“In here!” The voice came from the kitchen. Grant looked around the living room at the knitted decorations covering the mismatched furniture, family photos on the walls and ceramic knickknacks on the shelves. He followed JJ into the kitchen, where Mrs. Jacobs stood over the stove.

“Nana, this is Grant, from work. Grant, this is my Nana Jacobs.” JJ made the introductions.

“Well, hello Grant. It’s nice to meet you. You boys fix a plate. I’ve got fried chicken, mashed potatoes and macaroni ready, and cornbread is almost ready to come out of the oven.”

They each fixed a plate and sat down at the table. JJ described the case thus far to Nana Jacobs. When he got to the part about getting a ticket, she gasped and said, “Oh my. Who was the officer? I’ll call his mama and tell her how badly he behaved himself.” What JJ left out of the story, conveniently, was exactly how fast he was going when he got that ticket.

After they finished eating, Grant got up to wash the dishes only to be shooed away by Mrs. Jacobs. “I’ll take care of these. You boys have your work to do.” He sat back down at the table to discuss the case with JJ.

“So I guess I need to let the sheriff know that our surveillance operation is blown. And I need to find a way to keep an eye on Richard Bradbury. I’m certain he will lead us to the missing homeless people.”

“What about a surveillance drone? Like the kind the military uses? I seen something about them on the TV. We could use one of those.” JJ offered, trying to be helpful.

“It would be a lot cheaper just to use a different car to follow him.” Grant replied. “That’s what I’m going to do. Tomorrow, I’ll follow him in my car. Let’s head back to the office, and try to get a good night’s rest. We’ll start surveillance again at 4:00 am.”

“I didn’t know you even had a car. You always have me drive you everywhere.” JJ said as he stood from the table.

Mrs. Jacobs appeared in the doorway of the dining room. “Don’t you boys want dessert?” She asked.

“No, ma’am. I’m stuffed as it is.” Grant said, rubbing his belly. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”

Back in the car, JJ drove toward the office, while Grant complimented his Nana’s cooking. “That was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time.”

“I told you Nana Jacobs is the best cook in Fulton County. And like I said, she always has food ready, and there is plenty of it. If you ever leave her house hungry, it’s your own fault.”

At the office, they each gathered their things, while Grant turned out the lights and locked the doors. “Goodnight, JJ” He said as they parted ways at the sidewalk.

“Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Remember. Meet here at 4:00 am.”

“Oh. I forgot about that. I better get home and get to bed. I need my beauty rest.”

Chapter 10