Hollow's Eve Page 4

  “I’m good, hon,” Vincent finally said. “Just a long night. A lot of crazies are running around town.”

  Vincent said it as soon as he parted the curtain and took a peek at the cruiser parked directly across the street.

  “Hopefully they’ll let you off soon, Pop,” Claire said. Vincent smiled at his daughter calling him something he called his father back in the day. “As a matter of fact,” Vincent said, recognizing the officer behind the wheel as Brackett, “I finished my shift a while ago.”

  “Well, good! Take a load off. Watch a scary movie or something.”

  “I will.” Vincent snickered at the suggestion. “Now go to your party, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Silence…

  This time on her part.

  “There it is again,” Claire said. “That sadness I was talking about.”

  Vincent rolled his eyes and smiled. Kid is astute, he thought. She’d make a great detective.

  “Don’t worry about me, Claire bear,” he said. “Just a long night, is all.”

  “Mmhmm,” Claire said. “I don’t believe you, but okay.”

  “Talk to you soon.”

  “Talk you tomorrow. I’m gonna find out what’s bugging you.”

  Vincent laughed. A very good detective. “Sounds good, Claire bear,” he said.

  “Bye, Daddy.”

  Vincent didn’t want to, but he said, “Bye, love.”

  And with that, Vincent hung up. For the next few moments, he looked out at Officer Brackett in his cruiser, saluting to him and watched him returning the salute before Vincent closed the shades and walked toward the kitchen.

  He took a soda out of the fridge, his mind trying to stave off going down to the bar to have a shot of whiskey neat, but that would mean he’d have to break his sobriety.

  If ever I needed a drink…

  But Vincent wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He needed to get his mind right. He needed to focus on the tasks at hand, recharge his batteries, and try to figure out who could have killed Ethan Travis and why they would set up Vincent as the culprit. He needed time. He needed patience. He needed to use all his tact and resources to find whoever was responsible, bring them to justice, and clear his name.

  I just need to rest first. I just need to sleep this off, wake up tomorrow, and start fresh.

  I’ll figure this out. I’ll find out who’s responsible and make them pay.

  I’ll get my name cleared.

  I have to…

  Vincent would soon come to realize that having a peaceful night’s rest was out of the question. A text came in from Detective Brandt.

  They found another body at the library.

  15

  Officer Brackett had peeled away from the curb outside the house soon after Vincent received the text from Brandt. Not much time later, Vincent was out the door and making his way to the Hollow Green Public Library.

  Three cruisers were outside the brick one-story building drenched with autumn-colored leaves still falling down from the trees overhead. Red and blue lights swirled around the scene and added a sickly illumination to the fake mummy and witch on the front lawn of the house across the street.

  Vincent parked a half block from the crime scene and spotted Brandt’s vehicle not too far from his. He called her number and put it on speaker.

  “Yeah,” Brandt said in a hushed tone.

  “It’s me,” Vincent said. “What do we have?”

  “Give me one second. I got eyes. Riley’s right next to me.”

  The sounds of feet and clothes shuffling could be heard as Brandt held the phone close to her chest and moved away. Ten seconds passed before she came back on the line.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m here.”

  Vincent asked, “What do we got?”

  “One victim. Female. Strung up inside the gym on one of the basketball hoops.”

  Vincent closed his eyes and shook his head.

  Jesus…

  “Did you have an ID on the body?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” Brandt said. “But I think she’s another one of the high school athletes, based on her build and her clothing.”

  “How was she murdered?”

  “First impressions? Well, based on the deep lacerations to her neck, I’d say that her throat was slit.”

  Vincent clenched a fist.

  Another child.

  Mother of Christ…

  “Describe the crime scene to me.”

  “Wait one sec,” she replied. “I took a photo.”

  Vincent waited before his phone buzzed and a picture was sent to him. The picture showed a young woman, sixteen, seventeen, wearing Hollow Green gym shorts and a matching phys ed shirt drenched in blood, hanging over a basketball hoop.

  He squinted, focused on the victim’s face as he zoomed in with his fingers and tried to get an ID—but there was far too much blood on her face to make out anything other than her matted and soaked brunette hair.

  “Don’t suppose this one had anything in her pockets, did she?” he asked Brandt.

  “Checking now,” she said. “Let me call you back.”

  Two minutes later, Vincent’s phone buzzed to life, and he answered on the first ring.

  “Another note,” she said. “Just found it in the pocket of her gym shorts.”

  Vincent shook his head.

  This town is fucking cursed…

  “What did the note say?” he asked, collecting his bearings and keeping it professional.

  “‘It’s for you,’” Brandt quoted. “‘It’s all for you.”

  I’ve heard that somewhere before, Vincent thought. But where?

  “Mean anything to you?” Brandt asked him.

  “Not sure,” Vincent said. “But it rings a bell.”

  He thought for a minute, his mind going over the link between Ethan Travis and this new victim, and that both of them were apparently popular athletes at the school.

  A football star and a girl with PE clothes on, he thought. I have a hard time writing that off as coincidence.

  “What can I do?” Brandt asked.

  “You tell me, detective,” he said.

  “Well,” she said, “as soon as we finish taking photos, we’ll pull down the body. Once we have her down, I’ll try and get some better shots of her face.”

  “What about the school staff? Was there anyone there when you guys showed up?”

  “The janitor. He said his shift started at five a.m., thirty minutes ago. That’s when he found the body.”

  “Did you ask him who he thinks it might be?”

  “He’s pretty hysterical.”

  “Get him in that gym. Ask him if he can identify the victim. If there’s anyone in the immediate vicinity who might know who she is, it’s the school janitor.”

  “Two minutes,” Brandt said before hanging up.

  Vincent waited, and waited, and waited, convinced that between the incidents that the town had been put through years before along with tonight’s events, it seemed as if Hollow Green was cursed.

  Lightning in the same place twice, he thought. I might need to move once this is all over.

  If I can…

  Five minutes later, Vincent’s phone buzzed. “Go ahead,” he said before the first ring even had a chance to finish.

  “He thinks it’s a girl named Dez…Desiree Messenger,” Brandt said. “Says she plays point guard for the girls’ basketball team.”

  “How certain his he?”

  “Ninety percent. His words.”

  As Vincent digested the info, forty yards away from him, in the front of the school, he saw Chief Riley descending the steps and aiming a look in his direction.

  Bastard knows my car, Vincent thought. “I gotta go. Riley’s looking right at me.”

  “Okay,” Brandt said. “Should I stay on the line?”

  “No. We’ll touch base later.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Vincent didn’t know. He needed a min
ute to think. “I’ll let you know,” he said. “We’ll touch base in an hour. If anything major happens—”

  “I’ll call you right away,” she said.

  “Thanks again, detective.”

  “Be safe, Vincent.”

  Brandt hung up.

  Vincent pulled away with Chief Riley’s gaze still glued to Vincent’s bumper.

  “Shit,” Vincent said through his teeth.

  He saw me.

  Son of a bitch saw me at the crime scene!

  16

  The next day, the town was still in the dark about the events unfolding. Only the families of the deceased had been notified. The jack-o’-lanterns were still out on display, most of the candy had been collected by the kids, and it was likely a handsome portion had been consumed.

  The town of Hollow Green came to settle in what Vincent was sure would be the calm before the storm.

  Just as the janitor had said with a certain amount of confidence, the young girl discovered draped over the basketball hoop was indeed the point guard for the girls’ basketball team—and her name was Desiree Messenger. Dez for short.

  She was only fifteen, Vincent thought. One year behind Ethan Travis.

  He couldn’t help but cling to the feeling that the sports connection between the victims was indicative of something much bigger. He just wasn’t quite sure what it meant as of yet, but he was damn sure going to find out.

  But first, he needed to do some more digging. Before he could, Chief Riley called him.

  It was six a.m.

  “Get down to the station,” Riley said. “We need to have a chat.”

  Minutes later, Vincent was dressed, ready, and reporting to Chief Riley’s office.

  There were three men in the office waiting for him, two of which Vincent had never laid eyes on before. They were dressed in suits, both of them with professional haircuts and tailored shirts.

  These boys are definitely from out of town.

  “Edgar Vincent,” Riley said as Vincent entered the office, making it a point to keep out the title of “detective.” “This is Mr. Hoyt and Mr. Messer. They’re with the state’s attorney’s office.”

  Handshakes. Nods. Riley motioned for Vincent to take a seat.

  “Can I ask what this is about?” Vincent asked.

  “This is not an official investigation or interview,” Hoyt said. “Our office is just making some preliminary inquiries into the events that have been unfolding in Hollow Green.”

  “I understand.”

  Hoyt nodded to Riley—Your turn.

  “Vincent,” Riley said, sitting on the edge of his desk, “you’re aware that we discovered a second body last night at the high school.”

  “I’m aware,” Vincent said.

  Riley paused. “I figured as much. I thought I saw your vehicle near the crime scene last night.”

  Don’t give Riley an inch.

  “Did you have a question?” Vincent asked, looking at each man in the room.

  “Mr. Vincent,” Messer said, moving away from the chair in the corner. “It goes without saying that the incidents playing out in this town are quite suspect. Hollow Green seems to have a knack for attracting a staggering rate of homicides, more so than any other small town in America. It leaves one asking many, many questions about how and why that could be happening.”

  Vincent shrugged. “Been wondering that myself. Unprecedented is a word that seems to be thrown around freely in Hollow Green.”

  Hoyt snickered. “Quite so,” he said. “Especially taking into account the events that played out last night.”

  “I’m assuming you’re speaking about my prints being found on the crime scene?”

  “Yes,” Messer said. “Your prints being found on both victims is quite suspicious indeed.”

  Vincent arched an eyebrow, but stayed calm.

  How?

  Why?

  He took a deep breath, straightened his blazer, and collected his composure. “My prints were found on the second victim?” he asked, his gaze wandering around the room.

  “They were,” Messer said. “Yes. And it’s the reason Chief Riley has called us in here today. Again, while no formal charges are being filed, and seeing that your fingerprints were found on not one but two victims does pique our interest, and the state’s attorney’s office feels obligated to involve ourselves in the investigation, considering Hollow Green’s limited staff and resources.”

  Vincent absorbed the new facts while feverishly trying to figure out who could possibly get his prints and why they were planting them on these bodies, and where the hell they were going to show up next.

  “So,” Vincent said, “what happens now?”

  “The usual spiel,” Hoyt said. “Don’t leave town; don’t go anywhere. You’ll be contacted regularly for questioning while we go about the investigation. The state’s attorney’s office has sent us, the ASAs, to feel out the situation beforehand to determine whether these events require us to intervene, which we feel it does.”

  “Again,” Messer said, “your prints were found on both crime scenes, and your whereabouts during both murders cannot be confirmed by anyone other than you.”

  A lengthy pause.

  “We just want to lay out the facts for you,” Hoyt said, “so you can understand the kind of heat that is coming your way.”

  Vincent froze.

  Riley smiled.

  Keep cool. Just smile, nod dutifully, and then go about figure out who the hell set you up.

  “I understand,” Vincent said with a shrug. “You guys do whatever it is you feel you need to do.”

  Another pause. Messer and Hoyt exchanged looks with Riley.

  “Well,” Hoyt said, “that’s all for now.”

  Riley gestured toward the door with his chin. “You’re dismissed, Vincent. You’ll be contacted shortly.”

  Vincent stood, buttoned his blazer, shook Hoyt and Messer’s hands, and then walked toward the door.

  Sons of bitches. I’m running out of time.

  And fast.

  His mind was moving at a million thoughts a minute.

  17

  Brandt waited for Vincent inside the parking lot as he made his way to his car. “What happened?” she asked.

  “They said they found my prints on the second victim.”

  Brandt sighed. “Yeah. I heard. I was going to give you the heads-up, but Riley was all over my ass this morning.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure a third body will drop soon, and I’ll somehow be linked to it too.”

  Brandt looked at Vincent and said nothing.

  “I’m being set up.” Vincent said.

  “Undoubtedly.”

  He breathed a little sigh of relief—it was nice to know that at least one person was on his side. “I need to figure out who could have gotten my prints and why they’re doing this.”

  Brandt looked toward the station. “Riley’s doing jack shit in terms of the search. Guy has a hard-on now to plant everything on you.”

  “Yeah. I figured as much.”

  “What should I do?” Brandt asked. “How can I help?”

  Vincent thought about it. “Start interviewing the families of the victims,” he said. “Get a thorough timeline of all of their movements. Mrs. Travis stated that Ethan Travis was on edge most of the day before he was murdered, between the later part of the afternoon and early evening. See what Dez Messenger’s family said. Find out if she had anything happening that same day. Also, I want you to see if the two of them were connected in any way prior to their deaths. Something might stand out for us.”

  “Got it. Anything else?”

  “Yeah, I want a list mocked up of anyone at the high school who is participating in any sports-related activities at the school. If sports is a commonality with these murders, then it’s quite possible we’ll have a list of potential victims drawn up if we narrow down a list of all the athletes at the school.”

  “Understood. I’ll get right o
n it. What are you gonna do?”

  Vincent stood near his car. “I’m gonna find out who took my prints,” he said, “and how.”

  “Honey!” Vincent exclaimed. Once Vincent got home, he opened the door to his house he found his daughter Claire sitting in the living room patiently waiting. He was surprised, but he really wasn’t shocked. It was in her DNA to aggressively act on curiosities. Again, he thought she would make a find detective.

  He smiled. A genuine, exhausted smile. “What are you doing here?”

  Claire ran into her father’s embrace; Vincent held on to her like a life raft as they hugged for several seconds.

  “I have two weeks off from school,” Claire said. “I figured I was overdue for a visit.”

  “Sit down,” Vincent said, moving toward the kitchen to fetch his daughter a beverage. “How did you get in?”

  Claire held up the spare key that he’d given her a year prior. “You gave this to me? Remember?”

  Vincent rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yeah. That’s right. I forgot. Sorry, hon.”

  “It’s okay,” Claire said as she slipped down into a chair in the living room. “You’re busy. I get it.”

  Vincent pulled a can of flavored seltzer water and threw a glance at his daughter, smiling once he saw that every day she was slowly looking more and more like him. “You borrow Mom’s car to drive down?” he asked as he set the water down in front of her.

  “Thanks,” she said. “And yeah, I did. She went to Hawaii with Don for the week. I just didn’t want to be home alone.”

  “What about Chris? I thought you two spent practically every minute together.”

  Claire shrugged. “Yeah, we, uh… Chris and I are taking a break.”

  Vincent frowned as he took the seat across from his daughter. “I’m sorry, Claire bear,” he said. “What happened?”

  She waved him off. “Long story.”