Confession by Gary Whitmore - HTML preview

Chapter 16

Sam woke early in the morning and grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen.

Sam rushed into his den with his coffee, with something he had to get started on right away, and removed a small photo album from the desk.

After flipping through a few pages of photos, Sam glanced at a picture of Gary Gardner and himself as young men back in 1951. Angie Gardner took a picture of Gary and Sam while they posed at the construction of a new home. Gary and Sam were best friends in Auburn. Gary’s father gave the boys summer jobs at his construction site. This was the first summer Angie met Sam. She was thirteen years old, took a liking to Sam, and wanted to marry Sam in the worst way possible.

Sam flipped to another page in the photo album.

There was a picture of Gary, Sam, and Angie with a mole on the left side of her upper lip, taken at the beach in Pensacola, Florida, in 1954. It was the summer after the two guys graduated from college. They decided to party briefly before Sam started with the FBI and Gary started working with his father’s construction company. Angie still liked Sam but decided not to marry him since she had her first boyfriend.

Sam flipped to another page in his photo album.

It was 1959, and Sam married Vicky Hanson. Gary took a picture of Sam while he slow danced with Angie, who was ready to graduate from college.

Sam’s eyes welled up while he looked at those pictures. They brought back so many fond memories.

Sam glanced back at the October Slayer case files piled in a stack on his desk. After thumbing through them, I stopped at the file for Angie Gardner. I hesitate while staring at the “Angie Gardner – October Slayer Victim #4” label. This was hard for Sam to do, but he opened the folder.

The first item was a picture of Angie tied naked to a tree and severely beaten with a blunt object.

While Sam stared at the photo of Angie, haunting memories again flooded his head. “How the hell did Allan know I knew Angie?” Sam said quietly. “How?” Sam said louder.

Sam’s memory of that miserable day in October 1965.

Sam drove his 1963 black Chevy Bel-Air government car, following a Sheriff ’s 1960 Ford Galaxie down a two-lane road.

The Sheriff ’s car turned right at a Lake Downing sign and ended up on a dirt road. They were fifteen miles west of Downing, Tennessee, in nowhere.

Sam, in his standard dark suit, got out of his car with Joel Nelson, his partner. They followed Sheriff Jay Rollins to a crime scene that was roped off in the wee hours of the morning. Three deputies guarded the area throughout the night.

“Two teenagers were out here necking last night and found her body. After we saw the number four smeared with grease on her belly, we knew the October Slayer struck again. We’re saddened to think it happened in our neck of the woods,” Sheriff Rollins told Sam while he escorted him to the scene.

They saw a dead young blonde woman tied naked to a tree. Her body, from head to knees, was severely beaten with a blunt object. Hundreds of flies buzzed around her dead flesh.

Sam saw the grease-smeared number on Angie’s belly, the signature for the October Slayer.

Off about fifteen feet from the tree was a huge boulder about four feet high and six feet long.

Sam and Joel went under the crime scene tape and walked over to the dead woman. Joel wore his white gloves and then searched the area for evidence.

Sam wore his white gloves while he checked her out.

Then Sam’s widened with shock when he saw the mole on the left side of her upper lip.

“We haven’t identified her since all of her belongings are missing,” Sheriff Rollins told Sam, who stared in disbelief at the dead woman.

“Her name is Angie Gardner,” Sam said while his eyes filled with tears.

“How do you know that?” Joel asked while he searched the ground.

“She’s my best friend’s sister from college,” Sam said. Then he looked sick and turned white like a ghost.

Sam ran over to that boulder and vomited behind it.

Sheriff Rollins and his three deputies felt sorry for Sam.

Joel walked over to Sam. “You okay?”

“I’m going to the car. Take lots of photos and make fucking sure you find some evidence,” Sam said while he rushed off to their government car.

Joel watched Sam get behind the wheel of their car, where he discreetly sipped on his whiskey flask. Joel understood Sam’s feelings and then scoured the dirt for evidence.

Joel soon found a front tooth in the dirt, picked it up, and dropped it in an evidence bag.

Joel walked over to Angie, checked the inside of her mouth, and discovered that most of her teeth were gone.

Then glanced back at their government car and knew Sam was crying.

Joel continued to search the dirt and found two teeth belonging to Angie.

Three days later, Sam drove his government car from Atlanta to Mobile, Alabama. He pulled into the driveway of his friend, Gary Gardner, and got out, staring at the front door.

The walk to the front door was the longest in his life. Then he knocked on the door.

A few seconds later, the door opened, and Gary appeared.

Gary’s eyes lit up with joy at seeing his old college friend. “Sam! What a wonderful surprise!” Gary beamed. Then Gary noticed Sam’s stern, stone-cold face. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

“It’s Angie,” Sam quietly said, then hesitated, starting to shake inside. “We need to talk,” he hated those words while staring at the bottom of the door.

“Angie? Is she okay?” Gary asked while his stomach got nervous.

Sam’s eyes welled up when he looked at Gary’s eyes.

Gary let Sam in the house, and Sam broke the bad news that Angie was killed. Sam watched while his best friend dropped to his knees and sobbed.

“I swear, Gary. I’m going to catch this scumbag, and I don’t care if it takes me the rest of my life. I promise!” Sam promised while leaving Gary’s house.

Back to the present day.

Sam stared at a picture of four of Angie’s teeth Joel found during his search. These were the same teeth Sam fondly recalled that gleamed when Angie smiled. His eyes welled up while staring at the photo.

Cindy entered his den and walked over to Sam.

Sam turned around and heard her footsteps.

Cindy noticed his eyes and sad look. “What’s the matter, honey?” she asked, stroking his cheek.

“This book brought back memories of Angie’s death.”

“You shouldn’t have read it,” Cindy said concernedly.

“I had to. I can let it go. If you knew Angie, you would feel the same,” Sam said while looking back at her case file.

“It’s over, Sam. Too many years have passed to catch the killer now.”

“No! It’s never too late to catch a killer. This book has clues. I’ll pay him a visit now that Peter’s been transferred to the Tampa office. Maybe he can get the bureau to reopen the case,” Sam said, looking confident Peter would get that in work ASAP.

“If that makes you feel better, then you should,” Cindy said, kissing him on the cheek. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

Sam watched Cindy leave the room, then returned to the book and the case files.

He jotted down some notes for his meeting with Peter.

Sam spent the next three hours jotting down detailed notes and thoughts.

His eyelids started to droop slowly, and he yawned. Then, he got up and got ready for bed.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam was sound asleep, but thoughts about Allan’s book and the October Slayer case files ran through his mind. Sam started tossing and turning in bed while his nightmare began.

In Sam’s nightmare.

Sam prowled through some woods at night in the Deep South. There was another full moon that provided light to navigate without bumping into a tree. But Sam still used a flashlight while he searched the woods. It smelled like death while illuminating the trees.

His flashlight found a horrible sight.

Tied to a tree was his best friend’s sister,

Angie, naked, her head slumped down, dead for a week.

Flies buzzed around her smelly, rotting flesh and gray, clammy, lifeless body.

Sam’s eyes welled up the second he saw her. He slowly crept up to her, keeping her body illuminated with his flashlight.

“I’m sorry, Angie!” Sam said, reaching out and touching her cold gray cheek.

Angie’s eyes suddenly opened, giving Sam a blank zombie stare. “Why, Sam?” Angie asked in a sad tone.

“Please forgive me!” Sam called out while grieving her death.

Angie gave Sam a warm, toothless smile. Then, he gave him a blank, lifeless stare. She screamed a blood-curdling scream that echoed throughout the woods.

Sam jumped back, scared to death, and waited for her next move.

Her eyes fill with tears. “Why didn’t you catch him, Sam? It hurt so very much. I can’t rest until you catch him. You have to get my killer. You owe me! You promised Gary you would catch my killer,” Angie sobbed. She immediately stopped and stared like a zombie at Sam. Her head dropped down, remaining motionless. Her skin slowly dissolved along with her organs. There was nothing but a skeleton tied to the tree.

Back to reality.

Sam bolted up from the bed in a sweat. “I’m so sorry, Angie!” he screamed. Then, he glanced around his bedroom in a daze.

Sam sat up on the edge of his bed and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He reached over to the bedside table and went to grab something and was on autopilot when he went to reach for a whiskey bottle. But one has not been on his bedside table since he left Phoenix.

Sam lay back on the bed and silently prayed his nightmare wouldn’t return.

It was the next morning throughout America.

In Curtis, Mississippi, Billy sat in his kitchen while he drank his morning coffee. Billy stared at A Killer’s Tale and pondered his next move., while getting concerned. Billy smoked a Marlboro while pondering the situation Allan’s book now created.

His phone in the kitchen rang, which startled him.

Billy walked over and grabbed the phone. “Hello,” he answered, then listened to the caller. “Daytona Beach, Florida?”

Billy listened to the caller. “Great, he hasn’t moved,” he

said, then listened to the caller again. Okay, come to my office, and I’ll pay you,” Billy said, then hung up his phone.

Billy walked over and sat back down, then thought about this information, wondering if Sam would be a real threat.

In Daytona Beach, Sam got up early and prepared for his Tampa trip.

Sam went into his den, opened his address book, found the number he needed, and then made a call with his cell phone.

“Special Agent Peter Bronson. How may I help you?” Peter answered the call.

“Hey Peter, it’s me, Sam Woods.”

“Hey, Sam! What’s it been? Five years?”

“Yeah, I believe it has.”

“Are you calling me to do some fishing again?”

“Actually, I wanted to come by your office to chat,” Sam said.

“I would love that. When?” Peter replied excitedly to see his old friend again.

“I was thinking of driving over now,” Sam replied.

“Today? I don’t see why not. I have a light schedule. No meetings.”

“Good, I should be there in a couple of hours.”

“What’s so important that you need to come right away?” Peter asked, getting concerned.

“You’ll have to wait. So, I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” Sam replied.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting.”

In Kissimmee, Becky, Marty, and the kids sat at the kitchen table while they ate breakfast.

“I need to start packing Dad’s stuff and cleaning his house,” Becky told Marty.

“I’ll help,” Marty said.

Becky smiled at his offer.

Marty’s eyes widened with an idea. “We could have a

garage sale if you want to get rid of some of his stuff,” he suggested.

“That’s a good idea, or we could donate it to Goodwill,” she added.

“I like that,” Marty said.

“Maybe you can see if that cabinet has toys inside?” Nancy asked curiously.

“Yeah, more toys!” Michael cried out, all excited.

Becky and Marty chuckled over the kid’s excitement with the cabinet.

“I’ll tell you what, if I find any toys in Grandpa’s cabinet, I’ll bring them home,” Becky offered them.

Nancy and Michael smiled in anticipation of some new toys.

Later that day, Sam made the hectic drive in his Toyota Camry through the maze of aggressive drivers down Interstate I-4 to Tampa.

Sam arrived at the FBI office on West Gray Street.

He parked his car, got out, and then rushed to the building with the book and a file folder in his hand.

Sam walked up to Peter’s office with Alan’s book and file folder and knocked on the wall near the opened door.

Peter glanced up from his desk full of paperwork, and Sam was standing in his doorway with a huge grin.

“Hey, Sam! It’s good to see you again,” Peter said as he got up from his desk and walked to his door.

They shook hands, happy to see each other again.

“I was surprised to get your call. So what’s so important that you had to drive across the state?” Peter said while he escorted Sam to the empty chair before his desk.

“Well, there was this new book that came out called A Killer’s Tale,” Sam said, handing his copy to Peter. “I read it, and I believe it contains clues to finally identifying the October Slayer,” Sam said while Peter looked the book over.

“What makes you believe this book has clues?” Peter said while flipping through the pages, noticing Sam’s yellow highlighted sections.

“The book had the killer dropping some Army sergeant stripes into the FBI agent’s pocket while the agent was stinking drunk at a bar. I drank heavily when I couldn’t catch the killer. After drinking at Cooter’s bar, I found these bars in my suit pocket the next morning. They’re Army Warrant Officers bars,” Sam said while removing the Army Warrant officer’s bars from his pocket and setting them on Peter’s desk.

“Do you think the killer was in the Army?” Peter asked while he picked up the bars and checked them out.

“I think he might have found out who the killer was and decided to make a few bucks. Or, he’s protecting a fellow Army buddy,” Sam said.

Peter looked inside the back flap and read Allan’s biography. “Well, he was apparently Army CID,” Peter said, then looked the book over. “Or it could be his version of what happened.”

“That’s possible. But nobody else knew about those Warrant officer bars but the killer and me,” Sam said, then reached into his folder and removed the three letters written in magazine print. “These were sent to me while I was on the case. I never told a sole about these letters. And now this book mentioned these letters, pretty much word for word,” Sam said while handing Peter the letters.

“Are you sure you didn’t mention this to someone at the Atlanta office in the sixties?” Peter asked while he checked out the letters.

“I’m positive!”

“Your theory sounds interesting,” Peter said while he handed Sam his letters back, then looked at the book. “I heard this book sounded like the October Slayer, so it doesn’t surprise me you’re here in my office,” Peter said while handing the book back to Sam.

“I knew you would agree. Therefore, I think the FBI should reopen the case and start with the author,” Sam said.

Peter thought about his suggestion. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by your request. But I’m sorry, a fiction book might not be a strong enough reason. Plus, don’t they state that this is fiction and that any connection to real life is coincidental?”

Sam looked extremely disappointed. “They do, but you have to try Peter! You have to! I feel it in my gut,” Sam pleaded.

Peter thought for a second, then looked at Sam’s pleading eyes. “Okay. I’ll run it up the chain of command and see if they agree.”

“Thank you, Peter. I appreciate that. Call me if I can provide assistance,” Sam said while he shoved the letters back into his folder and the Warrant officer bars back into his pocket.

“I will,” Peter said while he got up and walked over to Sam.

“We need to get together and go fishing. Do you still have your boat?” Peter asked as he walked Sam to the door.

“I sure do, and I would love that,” Sam said while they shook hands.

“I won’t be able to talk to my boss until tomorrow morning,” Peter said.

“Tomorrow will be good,” Sam said.

Peter nodded in agreement. He watched while Sam walked away.

During the drive back up I-4 amongst the aggressive drivers, Sam knew that once the FBI reopened the case, they would find the killer. After all, the crime-solving technology available today makes solving crimes easier than what was available in the 1960s.