They had turned off Dobbs’s private drive and onto the north service road when Chief noticed the concerned scowl dominating Mike’s expression. Through the rear window of the cab Chief could make out his children, riding side by side in the truck bed, Kelly in the middle, Joe next to her with his arm around her and Hoover lying at Kelly’s other side, his head resting on her lap. There was a chill in the air and Chief had been afraid the child would catch cold, in nothing but a sweater. He had tried to insist that she ride in the cab with he and Mike, but despite the logic he offered, she adamantly refused to be separated from her brother. She now rode in the back wearing Mike’s leather jacket, leaning her head against her brother’s shoulder. The picture would have made a great Norman Rockwell painting.

“So what’s on your mind?” Chief asked Mike as he made the turn.

Mike hesitated before answering. “That little girl, boss. I just can’t get her out of my head. I keep seeing her… butchered that way.”

Chief nodded and turned to the road. “I don’t envy Grant. He has to show that...that mess to the child’s parents and ask for a positive ID.”

“She was only ten years old. When you told me he intended doing that- I mean, shit Chief, I convinced myself you had to be wrong. I just couldn’t picture it, you know?... A little kid.”

“Yeah,” Chief sighed. “I know.” Chief reached inside his breast pocket and pulled loose a toothpick. “The first one’s always the hardest...You take it personally. And the image never leaves you.”

Mike turned to him. “You mean you’ve seen that before?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Mike. You never get used to it. But if you are real lucky you can build a wall between it and you, and deal with it. It’s call professionalism. Sometimes that’s all you have against the job and insanity.”

“Professionalism,” Mike muttered. He took a deep breath of air and turned to the woods.

“But this time,” Chief went on. “It knocked my wall down, Mike.” 

Mike turned to him.

“Too damn close,” Chief said. “Too damn close for comfort. I lost it today. She looked so much like Kelly... I keep wondering when it will by my turn.”

“Your turn for what?”

“To be the parent in that scenario. This case is the closest I’ve ever been... and I don’t mind saying, it scares the hell out of me.”

“Then you’ve done the other...I mean had to get an ID from a parent of someone so young?”

Chief stared into the glow of his headlights. They pierced the darkness before him like a beacon. Without removing his eyes from the light he answered, “The youngest was a little boy about six.”

“Six?”

“It was during the case Mort and I worked on. I guess it was about thirteen years ago.”

“The 1923 murders,” Mike said quietly. “You had that file out.”

Chief nodded.

“Elly said you thought the Heifer killings and the 1922 killings were related.”

“The mark on the Heifers' fetlocks started out as a symbol used by a serial killer Mort was chasing. It was that symbol that brought Mort here. But the heifer killings ended abruptly with very little evidence. Mort’s profile fit Fred. He was convinced, but there was nothing to tie him to them. It wasn’t enough. When the ranchers were anonymously paid off for their loss, the pressure dropped and the case fell apart. At first I couldn’t bring myself to suspect Fred, but towards the end... 

“Then the child murders began in the spring of ’23. The first was a boy by the name of Charley Stevens. He was my first child killing. The memory haunts me to this day, Mike. I can still see–” Chief broke off. The image of the boy was too much. He had to shake himself free of it before he could continue. Chief took a deep breath and went on. “At first we attributed the killings to Mort’s perp. Some evidence was left at the scene of the abduction clearly tying the man to the crime. The boy was beaten, sodomized, then impaled and left to bleed to death, slowly. There was even evidence of ritual scarring.” 

“Dr. Jonas,” whispered Mike. 

“How did you know?”

“I met him,” Mike said to the window, his voice solemn.

“What?”

“I said, I met him.” Mike turned to Chief who was dividing his time between the road and conversation.

“I had just broken free of the Home,” Mike explained. “I needed a ride so I thumbed it. Dr. Jonas picked me up. He drove us to a gas station outside of Glenview...”

“What happened?” Chief asked quietly.

“He pulled in to use the rest room and to buy supplies. I stepped out of the car to stretch my legs. That’s when I saw the oil dripping from below the car. I thought the least I could do for him was to fix the leak, ya know? So I bent down to look and noticed the oil wasn’t coming from the crankcase. It was coming from the back. And it wasn’t oil.”

“Jesus,” whispered Chief.

“Anyway,” continued Mike. “I pulled open the back door. There was all this blood all over the floor. Next I knew, Dr. Jonas was standing behind me. He said it was mule deer blood. He had been hunting. I had a hard time believing someone would be hunting in a 1917 Pierce Arrow, an awful classy car to be driving around in the brush, and an even harder time picturing them fitting the kill in the back seat. He tried to convince me to go along with him- a ride as far as I needed one. I was nine, but I wasn’t stupid. I hadn’t heard about the murders. But the whole situation just didn’t feel right. I begged off the ride. A Ford pulled in next to us. I guess ol’ Doc didn’t think he could get away with pressing his point.”

“So to speak,” muttered Chief.

“Anyway, a couple of weeks later I read about the case in an abandoned newspaper. There was a sketch of Dr. Jonas next to a picture of Charley Stevens and the most recent victim, Danny Perrine. Damn near froze my blood... I could have been the next kid, Chief.”

Chief looked at Mike, his eyes narrowing. “I thought that was you,” he whispered.

“Sir?”

“We got an anonymous tip from a kid on the make of the car that bastard was driving. Helped us out considerably. That was you.”

Mike looked up from his hands and his eyes locked onto Chief’s. The moment was brief as Chief had to return his attention to a bend in the road. But in that moment, Mike nodded. 

“I couldn’t report it outright,” Mike whispered. “I was a run away. The last thing I wanted was to be sent back to the Springdale Home.”

“All these years, you never said anything.”

“I tend to leave my past where it belongs, Chief.”

“I’ve noticed that about you.”

“You know,” Mike said after a brief pause. “I never knew whether he was caught or not. I cut out for California shortly after the phone call.”

“We had a good case against the doctor, but the evidence began to lead us in a different direction.”

“What sort of direction?”

“Cult activity in the area. There was a pattern of murder that lasted over fifty years and pointed to a man who at the time was a pillar of the community. Barrymore Bartlett. We had a witness that put Jonas and Bartlett together, plotting a child abduction. The organizational aspects of the murders, the planning, and the elaborate quality to them, pointed to a cult tie-in. Jonas was Bartlett’s Achilles heel. Jonas lacked the self-control necessary to murder in secret. Bartlett harbored the doctor. Kept him under wraps. But eventually Jonas got out from under the man’s thumb.

“Mort and I spotted the car about three weeks after the tip. We were coming back from Bartlett’s mansion. Jonas was up by the Pass. We gave chase, eventually Jonas lost control and plowed the auto into a deer. He wound up at the side of the road. He abandoned the auto there, with a body still in the back. The victim was an eight-year-old boy named Kyle Saunders. Mort and I dissected every square inch of that car. We found receipts: gas and groceries, and a diner. With the receipts we pieced together his movement and found his apartment. He was into some really heavy shit, Mike. Black arts stuff– voodoo. The boys were sacrifices to some twisted god. We traced another lead to a motel off of highway 101...” Chief paused. They were just a mile from Middleton. Fireflies specked the darkness at both sides of the truck. But Chief didn’t register them. His thoughts were in his past...

It was late afternoon and the heat of the summer scorched the land, leaving dust circling in the street. Chief drove, Mort navigated. The motel was in a deserted area of the highway, backed into the woods. It was a long structure, square and devoid of any embellishment. The stucco hung in clumps, pealing like layers of birch bark; below, raw boards poked through. There was a deathly calm in the air. Chief had felt like an intruder.

Jonas ditched the car in haste. But in his rush to be free of it, he had left behind valuable evidence, evidence that was only apparent to Agent Meriweather Moss. Moss was a special investigator assigned to most of the serial crimes that included interstate activity. He had the unnerving ability to think like the killer; possessing the ability to draw out elements of the killer by absorbing the killer’s surroundings. 

While the other agents, under Perkins, followed the leads planted in the car by Jonas, Chief and Moss followed the leads overlooked. And those clues led them to the empty stretch of Highway 101 and the dilapidated motel...without backup. Chief pulled the truck past the motel, as if he were continuing up the road. Once past, he pulled the truck in and parked it behind the office. The two men startled the manager. They had no search warrant just Mort’s ability to bluff and bully.

“I’ll never forget that day, Mike. That Moss is a piece of work. The manager was a real sleaze. It was plain to both of us he was paid by the doctor to alert him if the Feds or local law showed up asking questions. Mort explains we have the right to search based on probable cause. Making sure the manager knew the many degrees a search can take, from simple looking around to full out tearing apart. The manager gave up the doctor’s unit number. We advanced on Jonas’s room, busted in the door and...” Chief stopped again. He turned down Main Street at the north end of town. After straightening out the truck he continued. There was a hitch to his voice as he relayed the events: “We busted in the door ... and our friend the doctor...” the vision became vivid in the back of his mind. He kept it there to concentrate on his driving. “He was in the middle of one of his rituals–”

“You mean–?”

“Yeah. He had the boy on the floor. Jonas was butt naked with a scalpel in his hand cutting the kid up- candles all over the floor and symbols written in the kid’s blood covered the walls.  The boy was nailed down with railroad spikes the bastard had driven through the his hands into the floor, and he was gagged.”

“Shit,” whispered Mike.

“When we busted in the door he pulled the knife under the boy’s chin."  “What happened?”

“Mort pulled up on one side, I on the other. Jonas was trying to use the boy as a shield, but it was too awkward what with the boy nailed down. He couldn’t drag the boy with him. He tried bluffing us into dropping our weapons. Before Mort had a chance to shoot, I plugged the bastard right between the eyes.” Chief pulled into his drive. He turned to the deputy. “I hate to admit it, Mike. It felt good. If anybody deserved to die, that bastard did. Until that day, I was content with bringing them in for trial. He was the first one I felt differently about.”

“And since then?”

“Not since then. But if Blackney comes after any one of my kids, Mike, and I’m around to do anything about it, you’ll get a different answer,” Chief admitted before switching the subject. “Maggy has sandwiches made in the house. You’re welcome to stay.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Mike told him.

“What’s still on your mind?”

“What happened to the cult, Chief? And Bartlett?”

“Barry Bartlett was killed trying to escape. We were on a bluff by the edge of the river. He drew on me, and I fired. He fell several hundred feet into the water. Body was never found. As for the cult- that’s a touchy subject. Mort believed it existed because of the organization of the murder, but the BIO refuted his findings. When I killed first Bartlett, then Jonas, I cut off any lead we had to the rest of them. Once Jonas and Bartlett were gone, there was no activity that could be attributed to the rest of them.”

“Like they disappeared.”

Chief nodded. Behind him the children were jumping out of the truck bed. The front door burst open and Maggy ran out.  Chief opened his door and noticed Kelly staring at him from the yard.

“You comin’ out Chief?”

“I’m coming, pumpkin,” Chief answered, sliding himself out of the cab. He looked up just as Maggy screamed“Joey!” from the front porch.

Chief sighed and turned back to Kelly. She handed him Mike’s jacket and went to her brother’s side. Chief gave the jacket to Mike. “Sure you don’t want to stay?” he offered a second time. Mike would be the perfect distraction for Maggy.

Mike smiled. “Sorry, bossman. I’ve got some things I need to do tonight, one of which is to read those transcripts. And I would like to make my rounds.” He put the jacket on, tucked the transcripts inside and walked north down Main towards the peach grove and the end of town. After a full day of running the dogs, Mike still made his rounds.

Chief shifted his attention from Mike to his family. Maggy was on the porch laying into Joe as Chief climbed the steps.

“How could you Joe!” she screamed. “That was a stupid thing to do!”

“I’m sor–” Joe tried.

“Sorry!? Sorry!” she screamed back, her face growing a deep shade of purple. “You had me worried half to death. You could have been killed!”

“I’ll handle this, Maggy,” Chief broke in. He had emerged from the darkness like a shark in deep water. She hadn’t time to notice him in her anger.

“But Chief–”

“I told you,” Chief said again, his voice low and steady. “I will handle this.”

“He could have been killed!”

“I know that...” Chief's eyes held hers. “And he knows that.”

Maggy looked at the ground, “I’m sorry.”

Chief’s eyes softened. “I understand that you are upset, honey. We’ll talk about it later.”

She nodded, still intent on the ground.

“Take Kelly in with you,” Chief continued. “Get her started on supper, we’ll be there in a minute.”

Maggy looked up. Her own anger drained away along with the hysteria. She turned to her sister and with an arm around her, Maggy led the child into the house.

Chief turned to Joe. “In my office,” he said.

Kelly caught the words, and their significance and turned around at the door. Her eyes met Joe’s. Joe turned away and looked at his father. “Yes, sir,” he whispered and followed his sister inside.

Chief’s office was a small room at the front of the house. It was located on the other side of the downstairs bathroom, down a narrow hall. In most ways it was separate from the rest of the house, and no one but Chief was allowed in the room. Joe pushed the door open and lit the desk lamp. It glowed a somber gold. There was a small love-seat in the corner across from Chief’s desk. At the side of the desk was a four-drawer file cabinet. Other than those three pieces of furniture there was nothing. Joe sat on the couch and waited for his father.

Moments later Chief entered the room and closed the door. He pulled the chair free of the desk and sat across from his son, straddling the chair and resting his arms on the chair’s back.

“All right, son,” he said. “Let’s have it.”

Joe looked up from the floor. His eyes met his father’s. He could tell Chief was tired. More than just physically– Chief was tired of it all. And Joe had added to his misery.

“I’m sorry, Chief.”

“I know. But that’s not what I asked you.”

“He threatened Kelly. I was gonna straighten him out.”

“With your rifle?”

“I heard what they said in the hall. Huey met up with his pa. I knew there was a possibility he would meet up with him again. I didn’t want to take the chance unarmed.” Joe turned his eyes away. They fell to rest their attention on the floor. “That’s not quite all of it, Chief. I guess part of me wanted to meet up with him. To end it once and for all.” 

Joe looked back at his father, whose own attention never left him. 

“I blew it though,” Joe said. “I missed.”

Chief took a steady breath, and then rubbed his chin. His eyes searched those of his son. “It’s not the same thing as killing an animal for food, is it?”

“Sir?”

“Killing a man,” Chief answered. His voice was low and sadness controlled the over-all tone. “It takes years of training, hardening, to be able to look a man in the eyes and pull the trigger. To know that in your hands is the power over whether he lives or dies. To act like god; as if you have that right. That’s why I suggested the knee caps.”

“But I hated him, Chief. I wanted to end it. I wanted him dead, for Kelly.”

“Hate isn’t always enough, son. You’re a good boy. You love life too much to take it away. You will make a fine doctor someday. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you had difficulty killing. If it had come easy to you, I would have been truly disappointed.”

Father and son regarded each other. Then Chief asked, “Tell me what happened from the beginning, son. Everything.”

Joe began to relay the events of the day as they had occurred. He started with his departure, and then led up to his surveillance of the Blackney house. He went through the trailing of Huey and stopped briefly to describe the contents of the bag, the description of the tiger and amount of blood. Chief questioned his son of every detail. He learned the attire now worn by the tiger as well as the possession of a buck knife. Joe’s tale ended where Chief, Mike and Moss met up with him.

“There’s something else,” Joe said at his tale’s completion.

“What’s that?”

“He was in the woods yesterday. He saw what happened between Hank, Huey and Kel.”

“I know,” Chief whispered to the floor.

“How?”

Chief turned his attention from the floor and rested his eyes on his son.  “There was another killing, “ Chief whispered. “This time Fred used Huey’s knife...he left it at the scene so we’d be sure to know.”

“The blood,” Joe said. “It was all over the suit.”

Chief nodded and turned from his son. Joe noticed his father's expression and knew he was holding something back.“Chief?”

“Yes.”

“He mentioned going after Mike.”

“Mike? Why?”

“Mike stopped Kelly from going into the woods, and warned Hank about Huey’s knife.”

“I see,” Chief said, again his voice low. And again he fell silent- lost in his own thoughts. It was a long while before Chief spoke again. He regarded his son fondly. “About your punishment.”

Joe nodded, his eyes intent on his fathers. “I deserve whatever you give me, Chief.”

“When we came across the clearing...” Chief explained. “Well... it put us on the right path. We no longer were forced to follow the trail Fred had planted for us. We got a break. Your shot gave it to us. But that clearing...” Chief’s voice drifted. “Both the clearing and the recent murder site, were part of Fred’s trapping rout. He’s sticking to some kind of pattern. I need only to figure it out–” Chief broke off from his diversions and looked at his son. His eyes searched the boy’s face. “When I came across the casing,” Chief said. He swallowed, but his eyes never left his son’s. They held him. “The Federal .22’s. When I put it together and it spelled trouble… for you, son. I damn near lost my mind. Between what you did and the danger your sister is in… Joe you’re pushing me over the edge.”

“Chief–” Joe started but Chief cut him off with the look in his eyes. He held up a finger to keep the boy quiet. 

“First of all, son,” he said after the boy’s attention was regained. “I’d like to tell you how proud I am of you.”

“Sir?”

“I’m proud of you, Joe. You didn’t lose your head out there. You thought it out carefully, retained your fire-arm... Joe, aside from the original, incredibly stupid idea of following Huey out to meet up with his father, you did everything right. I’m also proud of your protective nature towards your sister. To see the two of you so close pleases me no end. But Joe, I don’t ever want to hear of you placing yourself in that kind of danger again. Do I make myself clear?”

Joe swallowed. “Yessir,” he choked out. The pain in his father’s eyes was frightening. To witness it, close and in person, was worse than any beating. “I won’t do it again, sir. I swear.”

“As far as punishing you,” Chief continued. “I think Fred did that quite well, don’t you?”

Joe nodded.

“You can go,” Chief whispered.

Joe rose from the couch and walked to the door. He stopped and turned to his father. There were tears in his eyes as they met those of Chief’s. “I’m so sorry,” he said and wiped the water from his cheek.

Chief stood and crossed the room to his son. He drew the boy into him and held him. “It’s okay,” he said to the top of his son’s head.

Joe turned his face up to meet his father’s. “I didn’t mean for so much trouble. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Chief. Or make you worry.”

“Just don’t let it happen again,” Chief said.

“It won’t.”

Chief smiled at his son, reassuring him. “Go get something to eat.”

“You comin’?”

“I’ll be there in a little bit.”

© Copyright 2025 C J Driftwood. All rights reserved.