Stan: Chapter Five

Anderson closed the door to the interview room. He had told the Carmicheal's there was no need to come down to the station. They had identified the remains from the dental records. Well, what remained from the teeth anyway. He guessed that they had just wanted to say goodbye in their own way. Say goodbye to a daughter whom they would never hug are kiss again. To say goodbye to Beth. Possibly the hardest thing he had ever done in his career was to inform them that they could not take the remains and bury them. Atleast not yet. They would have to wait atleast a week for everything to clear. Mrs Carmicheal had broken down once again at the news. But what Mr Carmicheal had said was what really stuck with him.

"I really hope you catch this evil, sick bastard. Because if you don't, I swear on my life, I will. And what I have in store for him, is far worse then what he has done to my daughter."

Anderson rubbed his hand over his forehead and eyes. His headache was returning. Probably due to lack of sleep.
He sat at his desk and looked through his notes. The last person that Beth was known to have been was one Jane Daimon. He knew he would have to pay her a visit, see of she could remember anything from that night. See if she could remember anyone with Beth. Also the Carmicheal's had given the name Lloyd Tuck. He and Beth had split up a couple of weeks before she had gone missing. Could he be the one? Anderson had ran him though the police computer. He had been arrested a couple of times. Once for drug possession, and once for drink driving. No mention of violence, but at the same time, he was the only one with motive at the moment.

"I guess we have suspect number one." he said quietly to himself.

Reaching out for his mug of coffee he took a sip. It was stone cold. Spitting it back into the mug he got up and headed for the coffee pot on the other side of the office. Through the window he could see Morris leading the Carmicheal's down the corridor, Mrs Carmicheal leaning heavily on Mr Carmicheal's shoulder. He poured his coffee, spooning in four sugars as he did so. The rest of the department had come up with nothing. Nobodies informant's had known anything. He supposed that maybe the letter was a hoax. Maybe Tuck had send it, along with the head, in a double bluff. Make out there is a serial killer to lead them away from an accidental death caused by domestic violence. It was possible. He had seen people try to pin their own crimes on others countless times. Never in this way though. If that was the case, this Tuck was one twisted fuck. Then again, anyone that could have sent that package was a twisted fuck.
It was fast approaching 3am. He had been up for nearly twenty four hours on not much more then two hours sleep. It was starting to get to him. He figured he might as well pack up and go home for a couple of hours.
They couldn't do anything regarding Tuck until the morning, and although dawn was approaching fast, he could still sneak in a couple of hours sleep. Charge his batteries so to speak.
He could see Morris walking back up the corridor. She still looked as fresh as when he had seen her at 6am this morning.

'How does she do that?!' he thought to himself as she walked in the room.

"I am fucking beat" she said, collapsing in the chair at the desk opposite his. Reaching over she grabbed his mug and took a sip. "Jesus! How much sugars in that??!!" she asked handing the mug back and getting up to pour her own.

"Not nearly enough." was the reply.

"So what's the plan? Go and pick up this Tuck? Or talk to her friend Jane first?" she asked, not looking up from the mug she was pouring.

"I suppose we should go and see the friend first. See what she can remember, then go and ask Tuck some questions. Hopefully Jane can fill us in on some missing pieces." Anderson said, swinging slightly in his chair. "But, unless this is a wild diversion I can't see Tuck fitting the bill. From what her parents told us he was just a lazy fuck. Not a crazed madman."

"Come on!" Morris answered, "you know it's always the sane ones!"

"I think I'm going to go home and grab some sleep. You should do the same. Having us both exhausted isn't going to get us anywhere." Anderson put the notes and photos away in a draw in his desk and stretched his arms.

"Fancy a drink first? A little night cap I should say" Morris ventured.

"As tempting as an evening of your company is, I think after two beers I would pass out." was the excuse he chose. To be honest, it was true.

Morris opened her desk draw and took out two beers. Opening one she slid it across to him, "Better make it just the one then" she said with a smile, sitting back, putting her boots on the desk, opening the other and taking a large sip.

"Dam it Rachel, if you didn't have tits I would swear you were a guy" Anderson chuckled. Taking an equally large sip.

"Fuck you!" she smiled. "Anyway! How's your home life these days?"

"Home life? I'm nearly always here! I have to remind myself each time I get in the car where I live!"

"You know what I mean!" smiled Morris. "Don't dodge the question."

"Hey, these maybe your beers, but I can still plead silence!" Anderson said with a laugh, taking another sip of beer. He glanced at the time. Nearly half four. Three and a half hours before he had to be back here. Taking out his travelling time, that meant if he did go home he would only get two and a bit hours sleep. Holding the beer to his lips he downed the rest. "Got anymore?"

"Are you sure? I don't want you passing out now!" Morris joked as she reached into her draw and opened another for him.

"I'm sure! Anyway, how is your home life?" he asked. He couldn't stress the 'your' enough.

"Ah! Changing the subject from yourself eh?" she replied. "Same as always. Me, work, and my cat."

"Damn we make a fine pair! Now if only..." but he was cut off. Both of their phones sounded their text alerts.

From: Lieutenant Cook.
Get down to the cove now.

They had both had the same message. That was never good.

"What the fuck now?" Anderson asked.

"I'm driving" Morris replied.

"Whatever" he replied necking the rest of his bottle and tossing the empty in the bin.

*

The drive out to the coast took about half an hour. It seemed to pass slowly. Anderson wasn't sure if it was the two bottles of beer he had drunk running around his system, or the fact that they had both remained silent throughout the trip. Getting called out this early wasn't a good sign.
He thought, and hoped Morris thought the same, that surely this wasn't to do with the Carmicheal case. Surely not. It had only been twenty three hours since the lieutenant had revealed the case. Surely there couldn't be more to it already.
Pulling up at the beaches car park, all signs of hope seemed to fade. There was a huge white tent erected by the remains of the old pier. Again not a good sign.
Morris parked the car and they both stepped out.

"Looks like your going to have to wait for that nap." she told him.

"Things hidden in tents. Nothing ever good comes of them." he replied.

As they walked across the sand, heading towards the tent, they saw the lieutenant stepping out of it. He saw them and beckoned them in. Following his lead they both ducked under its opening.
The slides shown of Beth's decomposing head seemed tame in comparison to what he was witnessing. He saw Morris hold her hand to her mouth, bend double and throw up. To be honest he thought about doing the same.
On the floor in front of him, in the sand, lay the bodies of two teenagers. No more then eighteen he guessed. Void of clothing, they lay motionless, but lack of clothing was the least of their problems. The one on the right had no head. Laying on her back, her nipples had been cut off, and her breasts sliced. Between them was a puncture mark. Deep and still oozing a little. Her stomach had been cut open and her entails pulled out. Laying beside her in a crude number 19.
The one on the left was lying on her back. But even from this angle it was obvious that her throat had been slit. The pool of blood she was face down in was a dead give away, as was the cut that seemed to almost meet at the back of her neck. Her head looked like it had been stamped on. Her hair matted with blood and a huge indentation seemed present. He wasn't sure but it seemed like brain matter was mixed with the blood in her hair. Looking down the body Anderson could see that her butt cheeks had been opened, and her anus cut out. On her back a number 18 had been cut into her skin.

"What the fuck is this?" was all he could manage, still trying to surpress the vomit rising in his throat.

"What the fuck is a good way to put it." Cook answered him. "Morris, step out side and get some air." she didn't wait for him to finish the sentence before exiting the tent. Cook walked over to a makeshift table. On it was a blood stained piece of paper. "We found this lodged in the neck of the one on the right." Anderson took the note and read.

"Dearest Capt,
Hopefully this finds you well. I can't speak for these two bitches, but I wouldn't say they were 'great'.
I have to admit I had fun with them. I tied one up, forcing her to watch as I fucked her friend. Then I made her watch me slit her throat. To be honest she wasn't best pleased. So I killed that bitch too. I took her head. I hope you don't mind.
But atleast this proves I'm serious about our little 'game'. It also puts me at 19 if you hadn't already noticed. Oh and I had a little thought. If you recall, I told you I had already killed seventeen times before. Well I sent you bitch number 17. But just to prove that there are more out there, goto Evergreen forest. Remember X marks the spot. Well, spots!
So good luck with our game. I'm looking out for you, I hope you are looking out for me.

Ta-ta for now
S.
Xxx

PS feel free to ride these bitches, I'm sure you don't mind sloppy seconds, and would imagine they are still warm."

"This was called in around half four this morning. The caller didn't give their name, but was male. We think it could have been him. Did the Carmicheal's give you anything to go on" Cook asked almost desperately.

Anderson tried to pull his eyes away from the horror that lay before on the beach, but couldn't.

"Two names. One friend who she is believed to have been with on the night of her disappearance, and one ex boyfriend, they split up around two weeks before she was reported missing."

"OK. The media are going to be all over this shit in the next couple of hours. I want both of them brought in. And brought in now. You and Morris go and get them. I'll send a team out to Evergreen. I will keep you updated, so keep your fucking phone charged. Jesus, three in under twenty four hours. The media are just gonna eat this shit up. Go. Go now."

Anderson didn't wait to be asked twice. He dodged the criminal photographers and stepped outside. Morris was stood outside, hand still at her mouth. The sun was starting to come up, and already it was starting to warm up. Anderson guessed that give it a few hours and the inside of that tent was going to stink.

"Sorry about that" she offered as he stepped out.

"Don't worry about it. I almost joined you." he replied. "But it's now time to go and pay Tuck a visit."

"Ok," she answered, "but you drive."