Beyond the Mask Read online

  Katie took her hands off the coffin and put her hands to her face to rub off the tears. She repeated her chant again and this time Frank caught it. The thing that she’d been saying to her mother over and over again: “I’m sorry.”

  Frank stepped forward and put a hand on Katie’s shoulder. She grabbed it immediately and pulled it down towards her stomach. She hugged his arm as Frank wrapped his other arm around her.

  He got his first look at Sheila in the coffin.

  She was wearing a blue dress with a sash to match around her neck. Frank knew why they had added it, to hide the scares.

  Other than that, she looked much as she did in real life. A little waxen, not quite human anymore, but peaceful.

  Katie turned towards him and kissed him. Her lips pressed against his mouth so hard he thought she might bring blood.

  She broke their connection and stepped back from him. “It’s over now. Thank God it’s over.”

  “I’m sorry about…him.”

  “Don’t worry,” Katie said. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”

  They walked out to the parking lot. The cars had scattered away and there were only a few left. He spotted Katie’s rental, must be hers, a late model purple sedan.

  Frank cleared his throat. “I won’t be going to the lunch.”

  Katie’s jaw tightened, but she forced a smile and nodded. “I know you’ve got a lot going on here. The worst of it is over now. I’ll be okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Katie hugged him. “I’m sure.”

  Frank hesitated. “What did you mean, you were sorry?”

  Katie reacted as if he had slapped her across the face. It was a momentary thing, but Frank saw it.

  “You heard that, did you?”

  Her hand stole up to her hair and began to twirl it. All at once she was fifteen again and Frank felt disgust fill his middle. He had taken advantage of a young vulnerable girl. He could tell himself any lie he wished, but it didn’t change the truth.

  “I was sorry because I left. She wanted me to stay, to go to college in California. We had always been so close, but…”

  Katie turned away from him. He followed her gaze, afraid that he was going to see Bentley again. Instead he just saw the mountains framing the sky and the sun that had risen above them for another day.

  “I couldn’t stay here. I didn’t want to stay here, not even for her. But if I was here-“

  “Stop,” Frank said. His voice came out sharper than he had intended it and he saw the flinch in Katie’s face. He hated himself now more than he ever had. Self loathing could be unhealthy, but sometimes it was deserved.

  “You couldn’t have done anything. No one could have done anything, except maybe for me. If I hadn’t been at that bar, I might have gone over to your Mom’s house.”

  And I could have ordered the protective duty a hell of a lot sooner, Frank thought. He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud, but another thought of a mistake that he’d made, a mistake that had cost someone their life, added to his already troubled mind.

  “You stop,” Katie said. “If I can’t beat myself up then you can’t either.”

  “Deal,” Frank lied.

  “Go. Be the protector you are, just don’t forget about me. I’ll be at the hotel for another couple of days. I want to see you again.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Frank said.

  Panic raced across her face. “Why?”

  “What happens after?”

  Katie kissed him; he let her. “Let’s worry about after when we get to after.”

  V.

  Frank took his phone out of his pocket as soon as he was in the car. He didn’t have the map, but he knew where his patrol was; there had been more than ample time to memorize it.

  The lack of vibration hadn’t been a mirage; there were no calls and no messages. Frank dialed Adams.

  “What’s going on?”

  “A lot of nothing,” Adams replied. “No one has seen anything.”

  Frank looked at his car’s digital clock. It was nearly noon.

  “It will be soon,” Frank said.

  Adams didn’t respond right way and Frank heard the garble of the radio through the phone.

  “Son of a bitch,” Frank heard Adams say. “Is it him?”

  “What’s going on?” Frank asked. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator and swerved to avoid a car in the left lane.”

  “There’s been a murder,” Adams said. The voice was stronger now, clearer, he was speaking to Frank again.

  “How the hell did we miss him? Whose patrol was it?”

  “No one’s,” Adams responded. “It wasn’t on the route. We’re not sure it was him.”

  “Where?” Frank asked.

  “On Maple Lawn drive. Dan Barr is there.”

  Frank didn’t know Dan very well. He was a new hire, part of the reason he had been assigned to standard patrol instead of the special operation.

  “I’m on my way there,” Frank said.

  “Who should I pull off?” Adams asked.

  “No one,” Frank growled. It was all he could do to not scream it in the phone. If there was anyone who should know how important catching Ellison was it should be Adams.

  “I’m not trying to question you, but I don’t think Barr can handle it.”

  “I’ll be running the investigation.”

  “Sir, you’re not a detective, it’s not really-”

  “Are you trying to tell me my job?”

  “Of course not, sir. I’m sorry.”

  “Just call Roman and tell him to meet me. Everyone stays on their patrol until I say so.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And call me if anything happens.”

  Frank knew exactly where Maple Lawn Drive was, but he couldn’t remember why it was familiar to him. It was in the North West of the County and far from Ellison’s routes.

  Might not be Ellison, Frank thought.

  When he pulled onto the street, he realized why it was familiar and he also knew what house he was going to.

  Maple Lawn curved around in a cul-de-sac before continuing and Frank turned the corner without slowing down.

  Now he was sure that this kill wasn’t the work of Ellison. He also had a good idea who it had been.

  Me and my fucking mouth, Frank thought.

  Barr was stringing police tape around a tree when Frank parked the car.

  There was no body that he could see, no blood, nothing. The crime must be in the house, but if that were the case why was Barr taping the tree?

  Then Frank saw the body, just the top of the bastard’s head slumped down in the seat of his Audi.

  Might have been an asshole, but I didn’t want him dead, Frank thought. I wouldn’t have thought I needed to explain that.

  Barr ran his tape to another tree, closing a large rectangle around the car.

  “Anyone else here?” Frank asked.

  Barr turned, startled. Frank rolled his eyes. These kids, how the hell did they expect to survive? They learned more from the television shows they watched then they did in school, only what they learned on T.V. was bullshit.

  “Sheriff,” Barr said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Everyone else is busy,” Frank said. “He’s married isn’t he? His wife home?”

  “Yeah,” Barr said. “She called it in this morning.”

  “Anyone else in the house with her?”

  Barr took out a notepad and glanced at it. “Um, no. They don’t have any kids; it’s just the two of them. Well, only her now.”

  “Anyone see anything?” Frank asked.

  Barr looked around as if he were searching for help. “Haven’t had a chance to talk to the neighbors, sir.”

  The kid’s eyes were wide and bugged. He twisted his hands together like a child standing before the principal. Frank suppressed an urge to smile. “It’s okay, I understand. You start knocking on doors; I’ll take a look at this.”
/>   Barr seemed relieved to be given grunt work and he trotted off to do it.

  Frank approached the car, he wasn’t going to get too close until Roman showed up with his van, but he wanted to see.

  The car seat had been leaned back so that the body wouldn’t be so obvious from the street. Blood dotted the pants and pooled on the floorboards.

  “Hatchet,” Frank said. “Is this my fault?”

  Frank moved to the back window of the warden’s car and leaned down to look in. There was a large rip through the back seat. The killer must have sat back there and shoved the knife through the seat and into Hatchet’s back.

  The killer, Frank thought. Why not call him by his name?

  But that was a step he wasn’t ready to take yet. Ellison had hit Frank at home before and it could be that he was doing it again. Some sort of retaliation for the patrols? Maybe he’d seen them and decided to hunt the warden down.

  Frank looked at the seats in the back. They seemed clean, free of crumbs and debris. Certainly there was nothing lying there.

  He moved back to the front window. There was a manila folder on the passenger seat, but that was it. No index card, no crystal, no number.

  Frank looked at the house. Loath as he was to do it, he supposed it was time to talk to Mrs. Hatchet.

  She answered on the first knock. She was still dressed in her nightgown. It was a thin red one with black lace around the neck. It plunged slightly, but not enough to make it indecent.

  She was a big woman with short cut dark hair and an olive complexion. Her hands were clasped in front of her breasts and when she saw Frank her body rocked with fresh tears.

  “I’m sorry,” Frank said.

  “I already talked to the other one,” Mrs. Hatchet said. “Can’t I be left alone to make my phone calls?”

  She was right, Frank could have just consulted Barr’s notes, but he wanted to do this himself. He tried to tell himself that it was because he wasn’t sure about the notes that Barr had collected, but he knew the real reason. It was guilt.

  “I just wanted to cover a few things with you, ma’am.”

  “Ask me,” Mrs. Hatchet said. Her tone was resigned. The voice of a woman who knew that she was only being offered the illusion of choice.

  “Were you the one who found your husband?”

  “Yes.” She sniffled, but kept her composure.

  “When was this?”

  “About half an hour ago. I came outside and saw that his car was in front of the house. It was odd because if he were coming home, he should be parked in the driveway.”

  “You didn’t expect him home?” Frank asked.

  “I didn’t know. Sometimes he stayed long hours at the jail. I go to bed around ten or eleven. If he comes home at a normal hour he’s home at five o’clock and we go to bed together. If he’s late, I’m usually asleep before he gets home.”

  “Last night was one of those late nights?”

  “He called me around five and told me that he was going to be late. I’ve already been over all of this.”

  “I know,” Frank said. “Just humor me. I want to make sure we get the man who did this.”

  “He told me he was going to be late. So I read my book and made dinner for one and then I went to sleep.”

  “Then this morning you found him?”

  “Yes. I saw the car…and I…went down to look.”

  “Okay,” Frank said. “Thank you ma’am. I’m so sorry to bother you.”

  Mrs. Hatchet didn’t respond to this; she simply closed the door in his face.

  Guess they were made for each other, Frank thought.

  He took out his phone and walked back to the car. A van pulled around the corner of the street. Roman was here, that was good. He was eager to wrap this up; he had another person to talk to.

  “Yucca County Jail,” a man said when the buzz told Frank that his call had been connected.

  Roman parked his van and waved to Frank. He returned the gesture as he strolled towards the car. Roman went to the back of his van and opened the big doors, disappearing from view.

  “This is Sheriff Frank Miles. I need to know what time Warden Hatchet left work last night.”

  “Let me check on that Sheriff.”

  No questions, that was good. Hatchet had trained his people, that was something.

  Frank heard the rattle of computer keys and then the voice was back on the line.

  “I have the Warden using his card to exit the building at ten forty five.”

  “Are you sure?” Frank asked.

  “One second.”

  More key rattling.

  “Yes, sir. I have the security footage on my screen right now. Time stamp confirms that he exited the building at ten forty five.”

  “Was he alone?”

  “Sir?”

  “Was he alone?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Okay, save that footage. I’m going to need it.”

  Frank approached Roman, who had closed his van back up and was walking to the car with his case in his hand and a smile on his face.

  “Some fucking thing,” Roman said. “We working harder in da past week than we work the last year.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” Frank said. “You know who this is?”

  Roman set his case down on the concrete and opened it. He pulled out a pair of latex gloves and pulled them on his hands with a snap.

  “Course I know. Is that prick, Hatchet. Doesn’t deserve to be killed, but I’m not going to lie about what he was.”

  “That’s what I like about you,” Frank said.

  Roman stood up and looked at the car.

  “Anybody been near it?”

  “Just me,” Frank said. “But I didn’t touch anything.”

  Roman looked down the street and pointed to Barr. “What about the cub? He touch anything?”

  Frank looked at Barr. He was talking to a man dressed in a blue bath robe. They were both smiling.

  “I didn’t ask him now that you mention it, but I don’t think so. You think he’s that dumb?”

  “No,” Roman said and pulled out his brush. “Even if he was that dumb, he’s too timid to do something like that. You fart too loud and he’s going to hit the ceiling.”

  Frank laughed. “God I love you Roman.”

  “Good, I expect raise and expansion of my team then.”

  “Sure,” Frank said.

  Roman ran his brush across the handle of the door and then brought out his portable light. A palm print appeared.

  “Probably from Hatchet,” Roman said. “I take it anyway, of course, hell maybe we get lucky.”

  “Check the back handle too,” Frank said. “That’s where the killer was.”

  Roman paused and gave Frank a quizzical look. “Since when you tell me how to do my job? I not getting you enough results?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Well if you want to watch, you watch, but I know how to do this.”

  Frank raised his hands in a defensive motion. “Sorry, sorry.”

  Roman snorted. “Sorry, okay, forgiven.”

  He spoke absently as he moved to the back handle and dusted there. This time when Roman shined his light there were no prints.

  “That’s odd,” Frank said. “No one ever sat in the back.”

  “It was wiped. Your killer wore gloves.” Roman pointed to a few tiny streak marks that the light had illuminated. “See that, those are wipe marks.”

  “Was it him?” Frank asked. It was really two different questions. One that he was asking himself and one that he was asking Roman.

  Roman shrugged as he moved around to the other side of the car to examine the passenger side handles.

  “Don’t know. It’s a little early to figure that out. I don’t see any card.”

  “I didn’t either,” Frank said. “But maybe there’s one at the jail.”

  “That your job. My job is to collect evidence and tell you what I find.”


  Roman’s head was down and his voice was distracted. Frank took the opportunity to walk away from the man and let him do his job.

  He caught up with Barr walking back towards the house.

  “Well?” Frank asked.

  Barr shook his head. “Nobody saw anything.” He paused and looked around. “This is a quiet street, sir; I’m guessing that there wasn’t much of a struggle.”

  “When Roman’s done with his work we’re going over to the car.”

  Barr’s eyebrows rose. “We are?”

  “Yep. I’m going to conduct the investigation; you’re going to watch me. We need to make sure that we do all of this by the numbers. I don’t want any fancy lawyer tricks.”

  “Okay.”

  They walked back over to the car just as Roman was finishing his dusting.

  “Won’t know until I get it all back to the lab, but I think it’s nothing,” Roman said. “Big waste of my time again.”

  “No prints?” Frank asked.

  “Only ones I found I think will belong to Hatchet. Time to go inside; maybe we get lucky.”

  Roman tried the driver side handle. The door swung open.

  Hatchet’s face was turned to the side and, other than the blood and lack of respiration, he appeared to be sleeping. There were no apparent wounds on the body.

  “Bag that,” Frank said to Roman. He pointed to the manila folder on the passenger seat.

  “Sure and I check for hair and fiber and prints,” Roman said. “Just as soon as you done having your look.”

  Frank reached out a hand and turned Hatchet’s body to the side. He could see the ragged strips of his sport coat and the raw skin that it exposed. The wound had already begun to close.

  He let the body fall back into place.

  “Okay,” Frank said. “I guess there’s nothing else we can do here.”

  He turned to Barr. “Stay with Roman and do whatever he says. He’s going to collect evidence from the car and then the M.E. is going to show up to collect the body.”

  “Sure,” Barr said.

  VI.

  An officer, whose name tag indentified him as Franklin, met Frank at the door of the County Jail.

  “Are you the one I spoke to on the phone?” Frank asked.

  “That’s correct, Sheriff,” Franklin said.

  “Have you got the video cued up for me?”