Johnny Gruesome (42 page)

B
en entered Matt’s office clutching a cardboard box between his outstretched hands, which he’d gloved in latex. His face had turned ash-gray, and a muscle in his left temple twitched. Seated behind Matt’s desk, with Matt standing beside her, Carol watched him set the box down on the desk.

“It was right where Eric said we’d find it.” Ben glanced at Matt, who stepped around the desk. “Dan just reported in from the cemetery. Grissom’s grave was dug up. The girl’s body is there, covered in snow. Do you want me to go see her parents?”

Matt shook his head. “I need you here. There’s too much happening right now. Just make sure you send someone with a little sensitivity.”

“Okay.” Ben watched Matt move closer to the box.

“Take it out.”

Grim faced, Ben reached into the box and took out a clear plastic bag containing a basketball with duct tape wrapped around it. He set the lopsided ball on the desk, positioning it so it would not roll off. Carol’s chair squeaked as she leaned forward, a look of dread contorting her features.

Ben said, “I don’t think you want Carol to see this.”

Matt looked at Carol with one eyebrow raised.

“It’s okay,” she said in a strained voice. “Nothing can shock me at this point.”

“Go on, Ben.”

Ben located the end of the tape and unwound it from the ball. The adhesive ripped away with a sticky sound. He discarded the used tape in the box, then used both hands to pry the sections of the ball apart. He forced the rubber down, revealing Todd’s frozen hair and features.

Carol’s mouth opened and nothing came out. Todd’s head gaped at her, his face spattered with frozen blood drops. She had seen that face on a daily basis in her classroom, but not like this. Setting his hand on top of the head, Ben rotated it to face the opposite direction.

Matt got down on one knee for a closer look. He had no trouble picturing it attached to the body that had been strung up in the high school gym. Rising, he watched Ben photograph the head from multiple angles.

“You’d better refrigerate it,” Matt said. “That blood is melting.”

“Right.” Ben packed up the head and carried it out of the office.

Watching him go, Matt sighed. “I really don’t understand you, Carol.”

Avoiding his gaze, she felt like a child.

“I mean, you’re married to a cop, for Christ’s sake. You know damn well you can’t exhume a body without a court order. And judges aren’t in the habit of issuing them to high school teachers. You’ve really jammed me up. Criminal trespassing, grave robbery, corruption of a minor …”

Carol forced herself to look at him. “So arrest me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I released Eric on his own recognizance to help keep his name and yours out of the papers. I don’t see you coming out of this one hundred percent clean, though. Hopefully, his parents won’t press charges against you if we’re able to keep some of this quiet.”

“You still think we’re making all of this up, don’t you? Even though your men found Todd’s head at the high school and Rhonda’s corpse in the cemetery.”

Matt sighed. “The only thing that matters right now is that we have Eric to testify against Belter.”

“No, we don’t.”

Matt and Carol turned to Ben, who stood in the open doorway.

“His old man just called. The kid climbed out a window and took off in their Lexus.”

Carol rose to her feet, a worried look on her face.

“Damn it!” Matt said. “Put out another APB, this time for Eric. Charge him as an accessory in Grissom’s murder, too. We can’t let him get away.” The intercom on his desk buzzed. Pressing a button he said, “Yeah, Diane?”

Diane Sailey’s voice came over the intercom. “Heller’s on line one. He says it’s an emergency.”

“Thanks.” Glancing at Ben, Matt put Heller on speakerphone. “Go ahead, Dan.”

“We’re at Slatter’s house, Matt. Belter’s truck is parked in front, and we found a second-story window smashed in the back. We broke in through a side door. Belter and Slatter are both here. They were murdered in her bedroom. Looks like they were have a real Hollywood-style party before things went bad.”

Matt looked at Carol, who closed her eyes in silent prayer. “Thanks, Dan. I’ll get Beelock over there ASAP, and we’ll send someone to the diner to tell Shelley.”

“Copy that.”

The line went dead, and Matt nodded to Ben, who scurried off.

Opening her eyes, Carol said, “So much for your theory that Gary was behind all of this.”

“Maybe Eric—” His words sounded hollow.

“He was with me, Matt. I’m his alibi.”

Matt counted on his fingers. “He was there when Belter killed Grissom, if that’s really how it went down; with Belter and Slatter dead, we only have his word to go on. Kumler roughed him up at wrestling practice just days before he was decapitated, so there was no love lost between them. He and Rhonda were at The Bus right before Derek and Cliff were killed, and he and Cliff got into a scuffle. By his own admission, he was probably the last person to see Rhonda alive.”

“What about Michael? Eric was with me when Michael and Rhonda must have been killed. And he was in class when the funeral home burned down. You know in your heart he doesn’t have it in him to be some kind of teenage serial killer.”

Matt ran one hand through his hair. He knew she was right. “Whatever the answer is, he’s running away and we have to stop him.”

Carol moved closer to him. “He isn’t running. He’s going after Johnny.”

Matt’s anger flared. “Will you please stop with that? I don’t have time for horror stories right now.”

“Eric told you the truth. Johnny’s trying to destroy this whole town.”

“I won’t listen to any more of this! You’re under a lot of strain. We all are. But these delusions aren’t helping anyone.”

“We’re under siege. Johnny’s behind it.”

“That’s impossible. Your students are being murdered left and right. You’re suffering an emotional breakdown. It’s only natural for you to experience some kind of reaction to what’s happening.”

“Eric and I each saw Johnny on separate occasions. Is Eric suffering an emotional breakdown, too? The exact
same
emotional breakdown?”

“This whole town’s gone insane …”

Setting her jaw, Carol fisted her hands. How could she convince him? She knew only one possible way. “He attacked me.”

“What?”
He looked at her as if he doubted her sanity.

She didn’t care. “Johnny broke into our house the day after his funeral and he
attacked
me. I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t believe me. And I couldn’t blame you. I still can’t. But it’s true.”

Matt’s mind reeled. She was serious. “What do you mean, he ‘attacked’ you?”

“He was dead, and he came into our bathroom after I’d finished taking a shower. He put his filthy, decaying hands on me and he kissed me.”

Matt pictured the ski-masked figure lumbering away from the burning funeral parlor, and his disbelief transformed into seething rage. “And then what happened?”

“I fainted. When I woke up I was alone on the bathroom floor.”

She’s traumatized, half-insane. But something must have happened to her …

Seeing the look in his eyes, she touched his arm. “Matt, please listen to me. Give me the benefit of the doubt. Open your mind to what you believe is impossible. Eric’s gone after Johnny, and we can’t let him do it alone. We have to help him before it’s too late. Too many people have already been killed. And Johnny may come after me again.”

Matt stared at her, speechless and uncertain.

Eric drove along Willow Road, the headlights of the Lexus capturing the falling snow. He felt as if he’d traveled back in time to the night of Johnny’s murder, as if an entire week had not passed since then. The BRIDGE MAY BE ICY sign appeared in the darkness ahead. His heart beat faster even as he decelerated the car. The bridge loomed in the distance, dreamlike. In his mind he heard echoes of Karen screaming at Gary, the chain clinking around Johnny’s throat, and he pictured Johnny’s eyes rolling up in their sockets. He pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. Leaving the keys in the car, he got out and closed the door without locking it.

No telling if I’ll be in a hurry when I come back, he thought. If I come back.

Icy snow stung his face as he crossed the road. The police barricades had been removed, but the emergency lights on the sawhorses continued to flash and the streetlight illuminated the center of the bridge. His feet moved with ease through the plowed snow on the bridge. Scanning the spot where Johnny’s corpse had lain, he saw nothing that suggested it had ever been there. He stepped around the sawhorses to the missing section of railing: thick gray cables had replaced the broken pieces of railing, creating an emergency barrier. The creek below had frozen over again, and the emergency lights projected his gray shadow over the ice in a blinking rhythm. The trees arched in the wind, their limbs reaching up to the night sky with aching creaks, the horizon behind them swallowed by blackness.

Shivering, he removed his hands from his pockets, cupped them around his mouth, and shouted, “Johnny! I’m here, Johnny! Just like you want. Come and get me, you son of a bitch!”

His voice carried across the creek and the howling wind answered him.

E
ric heard the sound of a car engine riding on the wind. Turning, he faced the hill that rose from the opposite end of the bridge. Headlights appeared at the top, traveling the curved road. He stepped around the sawhorses with clenched fists, his body still trembling. The engine grew louder, closer. He saw a black shape descend like a scorpion while an icy apprehension inched up his spine. Through the smoke and steam billowing from under the vehicle’s hood leered a grimacing skull.

Impossible!

The Death Mobile roared onto the bridge and screeched to a sudden stop, splashing slush from beneath its wheels. The engine grew silent, but the smoke and steam continued to swirl around the car. Eric narrowed his eyes, unable to discern the driver behind the spiderweb of cracks in the windshield. The front of the car had been crushed and the skull on the hood rippled with dents that had been hammered flat. Metallic scars, where the paint had been scraped away, crisscrossed the black surface.

Eric waited for what seemed an eternity. Listening to the creek rushing beneath the ice and the wind rustling the trees, he became cognizant of the sound of his own breathing. Then he smelled it: chlorine.

The driver’s door opened, but the dome light remained dark. A shadow behind the windshield climbed out, its back turned to him for a moment. He saw a mass of tangled hair draped over black leather shoulders. The figure turned in his direction and he sucked in his breath.

Johnny.

Paralyzed with fear, Eric did not want to believe that Johnny had actually returned from the grave. But he knew better. His worst nightmares had come true.

Johnny strode around the front of the car, his boots crushing packed snow. He stopped before Eric, the wind blowing his ragged, long hair. They stood facing each other, silent and motionless. Eric’s mouth opened in mute disbelief.