Authors note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Tracking Evil, A Podcast: Part 10
Prologue:
Erica yawned, the young woman arching back as she did so, extending her lithe body into a full stretch. She padded downstairs still in her pj's and made her way into Arlene's pristine kitchen. While Arlene was in Alabama it had been decided that Erica would remain here in Virginia, it was a secure location and the older woman had arranged for some of her coworkers in the Sheriff's department to check in on Erica occasionally. It wasn't ideal but it was as safe a place to be as available, the only other choice was to keep changing locations every other night. They had tried that already and it had worn them out more than anything else.
She flicked on the coffee machine, rubbing the grit in her eyes as she waited for it to percolate. Her circadian rhythm was completely out of sync, she was finding it hard to get an entire night's sleep due to her research. Sometimes she found herself still pouring over a document until 3am, other times she would force herself to go to bed at a reasonable hour only to toss and turn half the night as her mind kept wrestling over some fact or scenario.
It certainly wasn't helping that each and every file that she'd been provided with dealt with a death, some might have been ruled as accidental but that didn't make the descriptions or images in the files any less grisly or disturbing.
The coffee machine chirped happily, and Erica gratefully collected the large steaming cup of coffee. She had been forced to seek out a stronger blend than the type Arlene normally stored in her cupboard. It had been that or double her intake in order to keep herself sharp and focused. Erica gulped a mouthful, feeling the hot liquid scald the tip of her tongue but she barely winched, swallowing a second mouthful before turning to look out the kitchen window, seeking inspiration for her current conundrum in the passing clouds overhead.
Arlene had called her two days ago to bring her up to speed with the little she had discovered in Alabama. The Deputy Sheriff had been particularly keen on Erica keeping the description, title even, of 'creepy spider boy' in her mind while she was reviewing the records. Something about it had piqued Arlene's instincts and Erica was happy to support her in this, Arlene having followed the younger woman's hunches on more than one occasion.
The problem was that the files were a combination of official police reports, some witness statements and of course the interpretive findings of the Criminology Professors of Rutwell College over the last fifty years. None of these people had used the description of a 'creepy spider' regarding anything or anyone in those files. No suspects, no hearsay or rumors, nothing that could be considered even vaguely arachnid or arachnid related.
So where did she go with this next?
Erica shook her head in exasperation. There was just too much data, too many branches and not enough overlaps. There was a small forest of paper strewn around the dining room in Arlene's house and for all that Erica was getting nowhere.
'Small forest' she thought to herself, 'Forest... trees, it's not that I can't see the forest for the trees, I need to just focus on one tree at a time!'
She hurried into the dining room, rescuing her laptop from beneath some take out boxes and she energetically began writing up an email. Once sent she opted for a second cup of coffee and a long shower while she waited on a reply. As the coffee machine warmed up once more, Erica listened to the faint drone of a vehicle approaching on the road opposite the house, the low growl of the engine, the only sound aside from the bubbling water in the coffee machine.
.........................................................
Arlene swung her SUV off the backroad she was travelling on, driving carefully up the weed covered driveway that led to an abandoned farmhouse in rural Alabama. Halfway up the driveway she switched off the radio, the enthusiasm of 'Sweet Home Alabama' was a bit much for her this early in the morning.
Slowing down as she approached the building, she took note of the other vehicle already parked outside, a black SUV with tinted windows. Hardly subtle for the area they were in, but a rusty pick-up truck wouldn't have served their needs either.
Standing beside the SUV was Lincoln, the bounty hunter she and Erica had partnered up with when they'd been chasing down the Graffiti Killer. He gave Arlene a wave of recognition as she pulled up alongside him, standing away from the SUV which revealed a sawn-off shotgun he'd been concealing.
She climbed out of her car, wincing slightly after having been behind the wheel most of the night. Some of it driving, most of it sleeping, the driver's seat not the most comfortable bed she'd ever known.
Now that she was visible, Trent appeared, rising from a position of concealment in what had once been the grassy lawn of the former inhabitants of the old farmhouse, now it was weed choked, the unkempt grass knee high to the former soldier as he strode to greet her. The.308 rifle he now carried slung over his shoulder would have cut her down should she have proven to be anyone else approaching the house. Like Lincoln, Trent had been with Arlene in the hunt for Butterman and both men had jumped at the chance to aid Arlene once more, all the members of that hunting expedition had returned to their lives feeling that matters had been left unresolved.
The two men were younger than herself, Trent by nearly two decades, but they had proven themselves in their own professions and in the hunt for Butterman the Graffiti Killer. Now they had proven themselves once more, it seemed. Both black men had an air of satisfaction about them, despite the grim serious expressions they wore on their faces. Pure professionals to the core.
"You found them?" Arlene asked, keeping her own voice crisp, professional, regardless of her personal issues with the targets.
"Easy, so easy. With the description you gave, I found them in a few hours. Trent and me, we lifted them outside a bar 'bout twenty miles from here. Those two idiots were buying drinks like it was the end of the world. No doubt spending their wages of sin." Lincoln opened the door to his own vehicle as he spoke, lifting a thin brown folder from the passenger seat and passing it to Arlene.
"They didn't put up a fight, we had them cold as they left the bar, they knew it, came along meek as lambs," Lincoln continued as Arlene looked through the file.
"More's the pity," Trent added, "itching for a reason to put some hurt of those fuckers."
Something passed between Lincoln and Trent, a half-hidden gesture from Lincoln urging Trent to silence. Trent's gaze flashed to Arlene who was still reading the file and he subsided.
"Anyone likely to miss them?" She asked the question of Lincoln, choosing to ignore Trent's outburst.
"No, not likely in my opinion anyway. It's all there in the file. They are brothers, half-brothers. Same father, different mothers. All parents deceased, no brothers or sisters. It seems their aunts, Uncles and assorted cousins have as little time for their antics as most people round here. Couple of loud mouths, habitual drunks and mean to the core. People who do notice them gone are only gonna be happy about it, nobody will come lookin' for them." Lincoln knew he'd done a good job putting together the file on the two men and he knew Arlene appreciated his work. He also recognized that he wouldn't be getting any compliments soon, she was too tied up in knots over this.
"Sondra inside?"
"Yep" Trent answered, "they are restrained but we didn't want to take any chances. She's in there now. You know Sondra, she has a weapon aimed at them the whole time."
Arlene passed the file back to Lincoln, bestowing a grim smile and nod as she did. He took the thanks implicit in it, not at all put out by Arlene's shortness. Normally Arlene was a considerate and friendly person, her leadership abilities were obvious and appreciated by those who knew her. Lincoln and Trent knew that this coldness was not normal for her and so they were more concerned for their friend than they were put out by her abruptness.
