Should Be Dead (The Valkyrie Smith Mystery Series Book 1) (13 page)

“Either that, or she’s working with him.”

Riley snorted. “Now
that
is ridiculous.”

Jackie put her hands on her hips. “Really? And why do you think that? Doesn’t it seem odd to you that she’s the only one who has escaped so far? That she just happened to show up here around the same time he did? Maybe she has been working with him all along!”

“So you think she’s a serial killer?”

“Not necessarily. Maybe she has Stockholm Syndrome. It’s happened before.”

“I doubt that’s the case-”

“Why, because you’re sleeping with her?”

Riley averted his gaze. He decided rather quickly not to answer that one. Jackie rolled her eyes in disgust.

“You need to call the sheriff,” she said. “He should know about this.”

“I will.”

“Then do it.” She lifted the receiver and held it out.

“Not yet. Not until I’ve looked a little deeper into all of this.”

“Deeper? Deeper than what? You have all the facts in front of you, Riley. This woman sure has you by the balls, doesn’t she?”

Riley stiffened. “That’s enough, Jackie.”

“If you don’t call the sheriff, I will.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it?”

Riley leaned forward on his elbows and locked gazes with her. “Leave it alone, if you like your job.”

Jackie’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you threatening to fire me? Who do you think you are?”

“I’m your boss,” he said flatly. “Something you seem to have forgotten lately.”

Jackie started to say something, but faltered. She spun on her heels, whipping her hair around, and stomped towards the door. “I’m going out for coffee,” she said over her shoulder. She slammed the front door on her way out. Riley leaned back in his chair, breathing deeply as he tried to catch his racing heart.

“What… did I… just do?” he mumbled.

Riley had never been the kind of man to put employees in their place. Or anyone, really. Usually, he was just grateful to have their help. And Jackie… she was a whole different story. For three years, Riley had been working with her, gazing longingly at her when she wasn’t looking, feeling like his heart was breaking every time she walked out that door. He felt something different, now. He still felt that desperate longing for her, the sheer terror that he may have driven her away for good, but on top of it all an overlying sense of accomplishment, as if it was the first time in his life that he’d ever stood up for himself.

It took him a moment of reflection to realize that was true. This
was
the first time he’d stood up for himself. Never in his life had Riley had the courage to stand up and tell someone they were wrong, that they had better do what he said or get out. The emotion was exhilarating and terrifying all at once, like riding a roller coaster that stops when it’s upside-down.

The phone rang, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Breathlessly, he lifted the receiver.

“Redwood Herald, this is Riley White speaking.”

“Riley, it’s Val. Are you in the mood for another exclusive scoop?”

The nervous tension in his gut ratcheted up a notch and he pulled open the top drawer, fumbling for the antacids. “Sure,” he said.

“Great! Write down this address. Meet me here in fifteen minutes…”

Riley took down the address and hung up. It was located at an apartment complex in Santa Rosa. He knew the place because he had considered living there once. It was a cheap, dingy, trashy sort of place where prostitutes and drug dealers lived and the sound of blaring televisions always competed with the noise of screaming babies, barking dogs, and unemployed men yelling at their girlfriends. And very often hitting them. It was the kind of place nobody ever called the cops, and even if they did, the cops rarely came.

Riley stood next to his desk, contemplating whether he trusted Valkyrie. She had given him sex, that was one thing -a big thing- but it didn’t mean he was stupid enough to believe just anything she said. He reflected on his conversation with Jackie, and considered whether she may have been right about Val. Riley doubted Valkyrie was a serial killer, but he knew for a fact she had been lying to him. Sex or no sex, that meant he couldn’t trust her. And while he wanted to believe that she was entirely noble in her efforts to tip him off, he couldn’t help wondering if this was all some sort of setup.

Riley opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pushed the files all the way to the back. He rummaged through the narrow space between them for a few seconds, and pulled out a small twenty-two caliber revolver. He held it in his hands for a moment, staring at it uncomfortably.

Riley didn’t like guns. He was opposed to them, both philosophically and morally. In fact, he had voted many times for politicians just because they had promised to get rid of the things. Not that he truly believed they could do that, or that they truly intended to, but it was the thought that counted and Riley believed every little bit might help.

Riley believed that good people shouldn’t need guns, much less want them. Yet he still had this one, this old revolver he’d inherited from his grandmother when she died nearly twenty years ago. He’d kept it mostly out of guilt, the feeling that he should hold onto the one precious thing she’d left to him, even though it was something he couldn’t stand the sight of. That was why he kept it in a drawer at work instead of at home. That way, he still had access to it, still knew it was safe, but didn’t have to worry about the thing going off accidentally and blowing his brains out while he was sitting on the toilet, or in some other humiliating situation.

Riley stuffed the revolver into the outer pocket of his long wool jacket. It was too warm, too sunny to wear the jacket, but at least he could keep the weapon close and safely concealed inside it. He locked the front door and left with his jacket hanging over his arm.

Chapter 17

Ten minutes after calling Riley, Valkyrie followed Diekmann’s old yellow truck off Highway 12 at the Sebastopol Road exit in west Santa Rosa. The area was a combination of light industrial and low-income housing, but Valkyrie noted a handful of new apartment buildings in the area as well. Their modern construction and fresh paint couldn’t rejuvenate the dilapidated neighborhood, and Val had the distinct impression that it was not a nice place to visit after dark. By the time they reached the apartment complex, two deputies and three city cops had already gathered to meet them. They parked across the street and Diekmann called a huddle.

“Barnes is long gone,” he told them, “but there’s a chance he split off from his partner, so I still want to keep a low profile. Stay quiet until we’re ready to go in. Val, stay behind until I give the all clear. I know you’re capable, but that cane might get in the way. Besides, these guys are dressed in Kevlar, so we’ll let them go first.”

“I understand,” she said.

Val had no problem letting the real cops take charge. The last thing she wanted was to get caught in the crossfire between a serial killer and a bunch of cops. Frankly, she doubted anyone would be there anyway. Not even Loki would be foolish enough to return to his own place after all that had happened.

The group separated, with the uniforms circling around behind the apartment building to cut off any escape while Diekmann and his deputies took the front door. When they were ready, Diekmann knocked and called out that he had a warrant. When there was no answer, he ordered one of the deputies to bust the door down.

The deadbolt gave way with hardly any resistance, and a horrific smell washed over them as the door flew open. Val stood back, waiting at the bottom of the stairs while the sheriff and his men searched the place. It took them all of five seconds to verify that the apartment was empty. Val took a moment to don a pair of latex gloves before she went inside. A rat scurried out of the way as she crossed the threshold.

 Val blinked and caught her breath, trying not to inhale the rancid air. As her eyes adjusted to the darkened room, she saw what could only be described as a miniature city dump the size of a studio apartment. Loki -Michael Barnes- had apparently kept in that room every piece of trash he had ever created. Pizza boxes, fast food wrappers, empty corn chip bags and cola cans… the garbage was everywhere. And the entire apartment was crawling with rats.

The kitchen was no better. Trash covered the floor, littered the sink, countertops and the table. Loki had even shoved garbage into the drawers and cabinets. Valkyrie looked over the mess with disdain, suddenly quite certain that they would find nothing of use. She told Diekmann as much.

Riley showed up a few minutes later. Diekmann saw the reporter hovering in the doorway and said, “What do you think you’re doing here?”

Riley shrugged nervously. He glanced at Val, who was standing in the kitchen doorway. She smiled at him.

“My fault,” she said. “I invited him. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

Diekmann looked her up and down, and then glanced at Riley. “I suppose it’s all right, then. Don’t touch anything. And Val, next time check with me first.”

“Sorry, sheriff.”

Riley stepped inside and began snapping pictures of the trash piles. Val went back to her search, sifting through the trash in the doors and cabinets, poking through the garbage on the floor with her cane. As they worked, the rats scurried out of the way, trying to hide under the living room sofa or dashing into another pile of trash somewhere else in the room. After twenty minutes of this, the sheriff was about to give up.

“I don’t understand how he lived like this,” Diekmann said. “There’s nothing in here but trash and pornography. How does someone even
survive
like this?”

“They don’t for long,” Val said. “Eventually, he would have been evicted. Somebody would have complained about the smell. That would have left him homeless, or living in that van.”

“This is a waste of time. I’m going to go interview his supervisor at the high school. Care to come along?”

“Absolutely.”

They brushed past Riley on the way out the door. When he saw Valkyrie leaving, he opened his mouth to say something, and then decided against it.

“What is it?” she said.

“Nothing. We need to talk later. I’ll call you.”

“Sure.”

Val wasn’t sure what to think about Riley. He had been acting strange that morning, and even stranger now. There was something about the way that he looked at her, as if he was trying to decide something but just couldn’t manage it. She had hoped their night together would bring him out of his shell. She had also hoped inviting him to Loki’s apartment would prove to Riley her good intentions. So far, neither seemed to have worked.

At two p.m. Val followed Diekmann to the high school where Loki had worked as a janitor. They met the principal, Nicholas H. Galen, who was waiting for them on the front stairs. He was a tall, thin man in his thirties with a goatee and a friendly smile. They exchanged introductions, and Diekmann explained why they had asked to visit. Nicholas was reasonably concerned about the situation. He offered to show them Loki’s workspace.

“There isn’t much to see,” he warned as they crossed the back of the campus to a small portable trailer. “We keep cleaning supplies, mops and such in here. Michael had his own key, so he was free to come and go.”

“Can you tell us anything about him?” said Val.

“Not a lot. Michael kept to himself. He usually ate his meals out here, alone. We never had any complaints about him, but he’s only worked here for six months. He passed his background check with flying colors.”

Nicholas opened the door and they stepped into the trailer. It was a small cluttered area filled with shelves of chemical cleaners and boxes of hand soap and toilet paper. Trash littered the floor, but not nearly as extensively as in his apartment.

“What about this locker?” said Diekmann, pointing to a gray metal box bolted to the wall in the corner. “Is this his?”

“Yes. Although I should probably ask for a warrant before I open it. The union would have my head…”

Diekmann rolled his eyes. “I’ll have to call the judge,” he said. “It’ll take a couple hours.”

He grabbed the padlock on the door and yanked, testing it, but it held fast. Nicholas sighed. He appeared to be having some sort of internal struggle.

“Let me have a look at that,” he said after a moment. He stepped between Diekmann and the locker. He turned his back to them so that they couldn’t see what he was doing, and began to jiggle the lock.

“Aha!” he said, stepping away. “Looks like he forgot to lock it.” He displayed the open padlock in his hand and, with very little subtlety, shoved a key ring into his pocket.

“Perfect,” Diekmann said with a toothy grin. He pulled the locker open, and a pile of porn magazines came tumbling out. Along with them, he found a three pairs of panties, a bra, and two tubes of lipstick. The principal’s eyes widened.

“This is… this is not good,” he mumbled.

“I presume these things belong to your students,” Diekmann said. “Are you sure you didn’t receive any complaints about him?”

“Not one. But come to think of it, I bet he stole these from the girls’ lockers during gym class. We always remind students to use locks of course, and to keep their valuables at home, but somebody always forgets.”

“Barnes had access to their lockers?” Diekmann said.

“He was a janitor,” said Nicholas. “He had access to pretty much everything, except for my file cabinet. I’m the only one with those keys.”

“This guy’s a time bomb,” Val said. “Somebody should have stopped him a long time ago.”

“They didn’t,” said the sheriff. “Now it’s our mess to clean up.”

Val was standing next to the desk. She lifted a newspaper clipping and handed it to the sheriff. The title read, “Mass Murder in Middletown.”

“I bet if you go through his apartment with a fine-toothed comb, you’ll find more articles like this,” she said.

“I’ll call Nate, warn him not to throw anything away.” Diekmann glanced around the room. “Strange thing is, it looks to me like Michael was doing his best to keep a low profile. He took a menial job, kept mostly to himself.”