Chapter Eight
Evangeline
I WAS HARD at work in my room on my laptop outlining my next writing project when Emory called.
“What’s up, Mouse?”
“Hey, I just got a call from a sheriff in Kentucky wanting to speak with you.”
“Kentucky?” I asked, doing my best to sound calm and unaffected. I’d never stepped foot in Kentucky, let alone done a project there, but any call from law enforcement was never a good thing. “Did he say why he was calling?”
“No, but he asked where he could reach you and I gave him your cell number. I hope that’s okay?”
“Of course,” I replied.
It’s not like I’ve killed nine people or anything.
Just then my phone buzzed and a number with a 606 area code flashed on the screen.
“I think he’s calling me now, so I’m gonna let you go,” I said before switching to the incoming call.
“Hello?”
“Good afternoon. Am I speaking with Evangeline Monroe?” a male voice asked.
“Yes, this is her.”
“Miss Monroe, my name is Andrew Clarke, I’m a sheriff in Black Sheep Hollow, Kentucky.”
“Yes?” I replied as calmly as possible.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you. Your associate, Emory Philips gave me your number.”
“That’s quite alright. How can I help you, Sheriff?”
“I understand you’re currently in Nashville is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“It just so happens that I’m going to be in that area tomorrow. I was wondering if we could meet for a quick conversation.”
“What’s this all about?”
“I’m working on a case of a sensitive nature, and I believe it would be best to speak in person. Are you staying in town? Is there someplace convenient for us to meet?”
“Sure,” I said, doing my best to hide the terror in my voice. “I’m staying at the Westview Hotel and should be here all day tomorrow.”
“Wonderful. I’ll see you tomorrow and I thank you for your time in advance. I hope you have a wonderful evening.”
Sheriff Clarke hung up and I thought I was going to puke. My head swam and my heart thumped inside my chest so hard, I thought I’d break a rib or two. Who the fuck was this guy and what did he want from me?
“Okay, calm down, Evangeline,” I said, out loud to myself. “For all you know, he’s starting a workshop on sex trafficking in Lexington and wants input on his curriculum. Yeah, that’s probably it.”
Except, he said he was working on a case.
“He said ‘a case of a sensitive nature,’ so he’s most likely working a sex crime case involving a minor, and he wants your expert opinion on the matter.”
Or he’s coming here to measure you for a noose fitting.
Shit.
* * *
Clarke
I was uncharacteristically nervous before my meeting with Evangeline Monroe. In fact, I had to change my undershirt after I sweated through the first one. I couldn’t recall ever feeling this way before interviewing a person of interest, but then again, I’d never interviewed someone like her before.
Since starting my investigation into Ms. Evangeline Monroe, I’d managed to learn a great deal about her within a short amount of time. In all fairness, it was my new deputy that put her on my radar in the first place. Working off of the theory that our killer had the ability to travel freely across the country without raising suspicion. Deputy Jost, despite the fact that he had not yet acquired a single hair on his ass yet, proved to be a real hot shot with a laptop. Before I knew it, he was able to map out over a dozen businesses that had employees traveling to the locations of one or all of the murders. Within a week, he’d not only narrowed that list down to a workable number but also generated a short-list of potential suspects. After another week of chasing down dead ends, I was starting to feel like my theory had been nothing more than that.
Five days ago...
“What about her?” Jost asked, pointing to a copy of Health and Wellness magazine featuring a beautiful blonde on the cover.
“She’s hot,” I replied.
“That’s not why I’m showing it to you,” he said, opening the magazine and pointing to an article on a woman named Evangeline Monroe. “See? Look. This article lists the dates of her last speaking tour.”
“And?”
“And she had engagements booked in several of the cities where victims were found.”
“She’s also a woman,” I stated.
“All due respect, Sheriff, but what’s that got to do with the price of corn?”
“Less than eight percent of all known serial killers in the United States are women.”
“But not zero percent.”
I leaned back in my chair. “You know something, Deputy. You’re right. That’s not zero. What do we know about her?”
“She’s a sexual abuse survivor. Some real bad shit from an early age, too, Sheriff.”
“Okay, what else?”
“She works as an advocate for victims of sexual abuse. She co-runs a home for kids called Papillion House, and she writes books about surviving trauma.”
“Doesn’t sound much like our butcher, does she, Deputy?”
“You said yourself that whoever did this most likely had a personal grudge against the victims or was working for someone who did.”
“I did say that.”
“So, what if these guys were some of the ones that, you know...”
“Assaulted her as a child?” I finished his sentence.
“Well, yeah.”
“Well, that there idea sounds about as thin as a...” I said in my best Kentucky accent, only to stall at an appropriate colloquialism.
“The hide on a mosquito,” Jost said, coming to my aid.
I smiled. “Alright. What the hell? let’s start a file on her.”
* * *
I read her first two books in three days. Those books, in addition to all my other research on her, painted a remarkable picture of survival and resilience. She’d found a way to elevate herself from victim to activist and I was fascinated to learn how she did it. To learn who the woman behind the pages of those books really was. And most of all, to figure out if she was a killer.
Of course, I went into our meeting with ninety-nine percent certainty that this was going to be a waste of time and must admit that my main motivation for meeting with her was personal. Since the moment I saw her face on that magazine cover, I’d become almost obsessed with her. Not only with her beauty but also the strength she possessed. And so, I was more than happy to follow up on Jost’s paper thin theory if it meant meeting Evangeline Monroe face to face.
As I approached her table, I noticed Evangeline Monroe quickly close the lid of her laptop.
“Good morning, Miss Monroe. I’m Sheriff Andrew Clarke, we spoke on the phone yesterday.”
I presented my badge, which she barely examined.
“That was fast,” I murmured.
She shrugged. “I’ve seen enough badges in my time to know a real one when I see it.”
I chuckled. “It’s as real as the police union dues I have to pay every month.”
Evangeline smiled politely. “Would you like to join me for coffee?” she asked, gesturing towards the empty chair across from her. She was even more beautiful in person than the pictures in that magazine.
“As a matter of fact, I’d love to,” I said, taking a seat. “I haven’t had a decent cup of coffee since I left New York and whatever you’re drinking smells amazing.”
The coffee cups weren’t the only ones at the table I’d taken notice of. Evangeline Monroe was not only beautiful, but she clearly had an exquisite set of double-Ds underneath her tight sweater.
She lifted the carafe. “May I pour you a cup, Sheriff?”
“Yes, ma’am, but please, call me Clarke. Everyone else does.” I gave her the best law enforcement smile I could muster.
I’m not gonna lie. I wanted her to like me. She was the most beautiful creature I’d seen since leaving New York, and maybe even before that and it had been a long time since I’d gotten laid.
“Cream or sugar?” Evangeline asked.
“Black’s great. Thanks,” I said, taking the cup.
I swear to Christ, the first sip almost made me come in my pants.
“As good as you’d hoped?” Evangeline asked, sweetly.
I smiled. “Even better.”
“On the phone you said you were investigating a murder that took place in New York City last year, is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She cocked her head. “But you’re a sheriff in Kentucky, correct?”
“That’s right. Before relocating to the Bluegrass State, I’d been a homicide detective in New York for a little over four years.”
“Big city homicide detective to small town sheriff.” She raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like quite a change.”
“Yes, it was, ma’am.”
“Okay, if I can call you Clarke you have to all me Evangeline.”
“Fair enough,” I smiled. “As I was saying about moving to Kentucky. My mother became quite ill several years ago and wanted to live out her remaining days back in the small town she’d grown up in. So, I resigned from the NYPD, sold my brownstone, and took a job as sheriff of Black Sheep Hollow so I could help take care of her.”
“You must love your mother very much.”
“She’s a remarkable woman,” I lied.
My nag of a mother still lived in the same shitty Brooklyn apartment I’d been raised in, which was only three blocks away from where she was born and raised. To this day, I think she’d only gone into Manhattan four or five times, tops. After my father died, she’d barely left the block. Thank god for my sisters. Otherwise, I’d have had to stay in New York to help take care of her. And after being blacklisted from the department, would have had to take work as a security guard or a fucking garbage man. I sent a check every month, and my sisters took care of the ‘hands on’ work. But Evangeline didn’t need to know any of that.
“Before moving my dear, sweet mother back home, I’d been the lead detective on a murder investigation in Manhattan. It broke my heart to have to leave in the middle of working a case, and to be honest, it was tough on my captain and the department as well. So even though I no longer technically work for the NYPD, my old captain will call me from time to time to consult or help them run down leads regarding that case, which still remains open.”
She settled her hand over her ample chest. “And one of those leads has brought you to me ?”
“Yes, but please don’t worry. You’re not a suspect or under investigation of any kind.”
“Phew,” she said, mocking wiping sweat from her brow. “So, what is it that I can help you with?”
“My investigation has led me to believe that I may be looking for a man with a job that’s transitory in nature. A truck driver, carnival worker, a stagehand of a touring show, that sort of thing.”
Evangeline smiled. “I can’t remember the last time I was at a carnival, so I’m not sure how I can help you.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing, but the nights of the murders—”
“There was more than one murder?” Evangeline interrupted.
“Yes, ma’am. One in New York, another in New Jersey, and now possibly a third in another state.”
Evangeline furrowed her brow. “How awful.”
“It’s not a pretty case, that’s for sure.”
“Sheriff, doesn’t the FBI normally investigate cases like these?”
“The body of the first victim was found in New York. My captain wants first dibs on this sick sonofabitch before the Feds. Besides, the Bureau won’t get involved until a pattern has been established between the killings. And no one is quick to cry ‘serial killer’ these days. The general public have enough to panic about as it is.”
“That certainly sounds serious,” she breathed out.
“Yes, well after researching all the concerts, sporting events, conferences, etcetera that took place in the tri-state area on or around the time of the murders, I was only able to find a dozen potential matches, which I’ve narrowed down to three. If my theory is correct, the suspect I’m looking for could very well be working and traveling with the Tortoise Audio/Visual Company out of Houston, the Harlem Globetrotters, or your organization.”
Evangeline’s eyes widened. “That’s quite a trio. I can’t say I ever thought I’d be on any kind of list that included Harlem Globetrotters, that’s for sure.”
“They played games on the nights and locations of all three murders. I shouldn’t be telling you all of this, but I want to shoot straight with you. If there is a killer within the ranks of your organization, you could be in serious danger. I’ve all but ruled out anyone at Tortoise, and so far, I’ve come up with nothing from the Globetrotters either.”
“Have you interviewed the players on the Washington Generals? If anyone is fueled with psychotic rage it would be one of those guys, right? I mean, losing night after night, season after season like that would have to drive you crazy after a while, right?”
“I appreciate your knowledge of novelty basketball, but I’m afraid this is a serious matter. I’m becoming increasingly convinced that my suspect very well may be in your camp.”
“I’m sorry, I tend to combat utter fear with humor,” she replied.
“I don’t want you to be afraid, but I do want you to be alert and attentive to everyone around you. Speaking of that, have you noticed anything strange about anyone working on your tour crew? A bus driver or lighting rigger. Anyone who’s triggered any kind of red flag from you?”
“If they had, let me assure you, I would have had them replaced immediately. In fact, every member of my touring staff has undergone thorough background checks. I’m afraid, but happy to say, that an investigation of any of my people is highly unlikely to bear any kind of fruit. Of course, there’s always the local union crew guys that help us with every event.”
“No, I’m looking for someone who travels along scheduled routes. I’m sure of it.”
“May I ask why?”
“That depends,” I replied.
“On what?”
“May I ask you to dinner?”
In all my years in law enforcement, I’ve never once hit on a witness or suspect. Not one time. But something about this woman blew a fuse in my fucking brain and the words rolled out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea—”
“Before you say no, let me assure you. My request is mostly business related. I’d really like to speak with you further about this case, but since I’m working ‘off the books’ with the NYPD, I have to be careful about where I’m seen and by whom. Given your background, I believe you may be able to bring some much-needed insight into the case.”
Evangeline crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Why is that?”
“Because I believe these murders are personal and I don’t think the killer is done.”
“I still don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”
“Probably nothing. I’ll be straight with you, I’m working on nothing but conjecture and gut instincts right now, and I’m probably wrong. However, if this guy is traveling with your crew, you’re my best bet at identifying him before he kills again. Plus, you’ve been around cold-blooded killers. I read your book. After the horrible things you went though, I’m sure you can spot evil from a mile away.”
“You said the dinner invitation was mostly related to the case. What’s the rest of it?”
“You. You’re the most beautiful, charming, and sophisticated woman I’ve met in a very long time. Maybe ever. And I believe we’d enjoy each other’s company if given the chance.”
“That chance being dinner?”
“Tonight, at seven o’ clock? I can pick you up here at the hotel or we can meet someplace if you’d like. Do you like Mediterranean food?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure.”
“I know the best place for Kurdish Turkish cuisine. You’ll love it. I can tell you more about the case and you can tell me more about yourself. What do you say?”
* * *
Evangeline
“I ’d say that’s an oddly specific choice of food,” I replied.
I only had one more day in Nashville and was planning on catching up on a few emails in the little coffee shop in the hotel lobby tonight. I hadn’t expected a police officer to show up and interrupt my plans, but apparently, today wasn’t going to be a good day.
“My grandparents on my father’s side were Kurds. They were Christian converts, so a lot of my childhood Christmases were spent at Baba and Nana’s house. My favorite memory of those holidays was the food. You’re going to love it.”
Alarm bells were ringing so loudly in my head I feared the sheriff could hear them. How the fuck did the sheriff of Beaver Dick Falls connect the murders of George Hanford and Henry Duplass? And who the hell was the third victim he mentioned? Was it the judge?
Killing the dishonorable Judge James Harron Faulkner was not as satisfactory as I would have liked it to have been. I was working within a tight timeframe, and I also had to make his death look like an accident. While that greatly simplified the job, it meant I didn’t get to savor the kill quite as much. It also meant I didn’t get to display my victim precisely the way I wanted to, which was very important to me.
“Text me the name of the restaurant and I’ll meet you there at seven sharp,” I conceded. “I have an early flight home tomorrow morning so I can’t make it a late night.”
“Dinner and your company are all I ask for.” Clarke smiled wide. “And maybe dessert.”
This guy was slick. I mean, I could tell that at least half of the things that came out of his mouth were bullshit, but I’m sure his charm, good looks, and expert lying skills worked on most people. Of course, I was a damn sight far from most people and I needed to know if this sheriff had already figured that out yet.
“I’ll see you there at seven,” Sheriff Clarke said before exiting the café.
As soon as he was out of sight, I opened my laptop and resumed my search into ex-NYPD Homicide Detective/Sheriff Andrew Clarke. A search which revealed all sorts of useful information. The kind of information that let me know that most, if not all, of what he’d told me this morning was utter bullshit. I knew his mother was alive and living in Brooklyn. I also knew he’d been fired from the NYPD for insubordination and unauthorized surveillance on a citizen. There was no way in hell anyone within the New York Police Department would ask Andrew Clarke for the time of day, let alone to assist with an active murder investigation. This guy either thinks he’s smarter than everyone, including me, or this little chat of ours was all about sizing me up. Clearly, he didn’t learn everything he needed, or he wouldn’t have asked me out, other than the obvious reason of wanting to fuck me. Another thing I’m sure he felt he hid well but did not.
I was going to have to play tonight’s dinner very carefully. This cop was playing some sort of game and I needed to find out why and exactly how much he knew about me. I’d never killed anyone who wasn’t a monster or a predator, let alone someone in law enforcement. But if it came down to my survival or Andrew Clarke’s life, Black Sheep Hollow would need to find themselves a new sheriff.