Chapter 54
FIFTY-FOUR
Sheriff Scott opened his eyes with a start.
Excruciating pain traveled down his arms and made his chest hurt.
It almost as if it was burning. He looked around the room and everything seemed the same, with the oil lamp still burning, giving a dim glow around the room.
He worked and reworked in his mind why he was there and where and who the kidnapper was.
He tried to move his head, but whatever was around his neck wouldn’t allow him.
Looking up and then down, he caught a glimpse of his hands.
They seemed to be attached to something.
The feeling was slowly coming back into them and the pain was becoming real.
Had he seen nails or screws through them? That had to have been his imagination.
There was a creak from the back of the room and Wayne felt cool air rush inside. It must’ve been the back door.
“Who’s there?” the sheriff said.
Footsteps approached and seemed to stop.
“Who are you?”
There was a laugh. It wasn’t the sound of someone having a good time, but rather had a maniacal tone to it. Finally, the person walked into the light in front of the sheriff.
“You have no idea why you’re here, do you?” said the man in black.
“Who are you?” the sheriff said again. He did look familiar. It had to be the man everyone was looking for. “You’re who they call Junior?”
“Very good. You win a prize.”
“Why am I here?”
“I’m sorry, Sheriff, but your orders and jurisdiction as a police officer don’t mean a thing here. Your time has come.”
The sheriff wasn’t sure how to respond.
Junior smiled. “You really don’t remember me?”
Sheriff Scott kept quiet.
“Okay then. I’ll tell you. You must’ve been just a patrol deputy at the time—not all important like you are now.”
Scott grimaced. His arms felt like they were on fire.
“Hurts, doesn’t it? I think it’s a fair trade,” said Junior.
“For what?”
“Four boys came to you and said there was a bad man and something terrible was going to happen.”
The sheriff vaguely remembered an incident involving four boys in his past, but he couldn’t recall the details.
“Two brothers and two other boys—good friends. You see, each one of us had been abused and no one believed us, so we went to the police like we’re supposed to. That’s what we were told to do—we were to trust the police and they were going to help us.”
Wayne remembered now. He remembered the boys who had said bad things were happening and they needed help. He also remembered that his report was sent to the detective division. He did follow up twice, but had been told there was nothing concrete to investigate.
“I can see you have some memory of that,” Junior said.
“I took a report and sent it to the proper channels to investigate. I followed up.”
“I see. Passing the buck for your sins.”
“What do you want?”
“I want payback.”
“After all these years? What happened or didn’t happen with your report made you a killer?”
“There’s more to it, but that’s on a need-to-know basis.”
“You don’t want to brag about killing your dad and your friend…? I guess I made you do that. Or what about the so-called fortune buried somewhere on the Collins property?”
That made Junior stop and stare down the sheriff. “You know nothing.”
“Apparently, a lot more than you realized. The detectives are closing in on you.”
“You can gloat and give high-fives to your cops, but I know all about your pretty niece who’s working the case. Don’t worry, she’ll just be collateral damage.” He laughed again. “I won’t kill you right away. I want you to suffer just like Bruce Collins made us suffer.”
“Your dad took care of him.”
“Oh, you have it all wrong. We took care of Collins.”
The sheriff swallowed. “The four of you?”
“Yeah, it was the best thing we ever did and we almost took it to our grave. We knew where Mrs. Collins and Misty were buried.”
“And look at you now,” he scoffed.
The sheriff knew Junior’s confession meant the younger man was going to kill him. His thoughts went to Katie. He wasn’t sure how much more pain he could endure, but he wasn’t going to let Junior win with the satisfaction of seeing him suffer.
But then Junior laughed. “And your poor girlfriend… she died easily. It was a way to weaken you and make you more vulnerable.”
“What about your father?”
“What about him,” he snapped.
“You two were cut from the same cloth.”
Junior chuckled. “Maybe at one time, but he was weak and questioned me at every turn. He was beginning to lose his edge… and well… the weakest link had to go first…”
The sheriff closed his eyes, but as hard as he tried, he could still hear that laugh resonating in his mind.