Chapter 31
It took eight days for Mr. Floyd’s attorney to request that police officers cease harassing him at every turn. Eric railed at the instruction for everyone to leave the cop-killer alone. Jenny felt her excitement rise at the news. She was finally free to gut the meth-addicted gunman.
They watched television and munched on popcorn to wind down from a rough day of work. Eric doted on Jenny and kept placing his hand on her stomach when they cuddled. The killer found herself comforted by the tiny act. She knew she could give up her hobby for her budding family.
As they went to bed, Jenny formulated a mental schedule of when to start tracking her prey and where to dispose of his corpse. Eric was snoring and mumbling in his sleep. Her thoughts halted when she heard him say ‘ring in toolbox’.
The murderess gently rolled over and listened to the mutterings from her beloved.
“Ring doesn’t make sense. Clara. Who’s Clara? MEefigurgg. Junk but the ring. Silver ring and receipt. Grieeuachchcerd. Can’t be killer, love and baby. Guurrttdeepol.” He rambled between snores.
Jenny’s hair stood on end, and she felt electricity running up her spine. Somehow, Eric had found her trophies. He’d seen them and he suspected what they meant. She had to do something.
Easing out from under the covers, Jenny slid off the bed and snuck out of the room. She found her breath hard to catch and sat down on the couch. She swayed front to back as though rocking the panic attack away. Her chest tightened and her ears ached from the pounding of her blood.
“Stay calm. You can handle this.” She whispered to herself. “He doesn’t want to believe it, so make it easier for him.”
From the open doorway, McGill’s snores and words still trailed. The killer reviewed her options mentally. She could pack a bag and flee; start a new life somewhere else and raise their child never knowing its father.
Or she could tell Eric the truth and hope he wouldn’t turn her in; she could ask him to out of love for her and their baby. But he could still turn her in and once the baby was born, he would have custody and she’d have a lethal injection. Very risky gambit.
She could kill him and make it look like an accident. Jenny immediately scrapped that choice; she loved Eric McGill too much to harm him. And her child deserved to know its father.
That left finding a way to excuse the items in the box and making certain to never kill again. Even going after Eric’s shooter was a hindrance to this plan. She may have to let Mr. Floyd off the hook.
Jenny sat in the darkness for the better part of an hour. Occasionally Figment would scurry through the room attacking a fly or pencil as though battling the legions of hell itself. She watched the housecat play at being a fierce predator and realized she would have to become like him, a beast without claws.
The killer crept through the house to the restroom, blinded her eyes with the light, and stared at her reflection. She had to act fast. And her decision would be permanent. For the sake of her unborn baby, she had to pick a path and walk it for the rest of her life.
With a sigh, Jenny flicked the switch down and tiptoed to the closet. Emerging with a bag bursting with clothes and toiletries, the killer picked up her keys. She looked around the room at the photos and went outside to her car.
***
Jenny tossed the escape bag into the trunk of her car and returned to the house. She’d been sure to pack the $1100 she’d gathered from her victims—mostly the guy who played the lottery a lot—and the few valuables she’d stolen from her last few targets. No one had found the bodies, so the killer doubted the thefts would set off any alarms. She thought of the secret bank account she’d kept in case she ever had to flee.
She went down to the basement and moved her craft supplies aside. Jenny retrieved her trophy box and waited. Eventually her fiancé would notice her missing and search for her. She hoped she was making the right decision.
***
“Jenny? Honey are you down there?” Eric called from the top of the stairs.
“Yeah. Sorry I woke you. I really needed some time to think. I guess the hormones don’t like it when I try to sleep.” Jenny called back.
Thump thump thump.
Eric rounded the turn and saw her sitting on the cold floor in her pajamas. The toolbox was open. Competing sensations of relief and tension took over McGill setting him on edge. Either she knew he’d been in that box and Jenny was about to go off on him or maybe she was about to confess something he really didn’t want to believe.
“What are you doing down here? It’s cold. You should come back to bed, babe. I don’t want you getting sick.” He said holding out his hand.
Jenny took the hand and tugged for him to join her. Eric obliged but felt a tingle of worry and a churning in his stomach. There was no way this was going to be good. Plus, he had to get up for his shift in only two more hours.
“Eric, I want to show you something. Something I’ve never shown anyone. Promise to hear me out before reacting? Please?” She pleaded.
Dammit. Dammit, it’s true and she is about to confess to half a dozen grisly murders. How am I supposed to deal with that? Breathe and listen. She is the love of your life, and she is going to have your child. Just listen and hope for the best.
“Okay. I’m listening, Jenny. And I want you to know that I love you. Nothing you say will change that.”
Jenny kissed him. It was the kind of warm lingering embrace that made Eric forget his name sometimes. She pulled back and gestured at the trinkets in her box.
“Eric, I had a really hard time letting go of the murders. I know I shouldn’t have, but I snuck into some of those places and took little things and added them to my memory box.”
McGill didn’t have to feign being shocked. He was simply happy he wasn’t hearing what he feared.
“Why? And what stuff? I didn’t know you even had a memory box.” He asked.
Jenny held up the silver ring.
“Because of this.” She plowed into her lie with a confidence born of desperation that the bluff work.
“When I was a kid one of my friends was killed in a drunk driving accident. She was my best friend and I had been meaning to give her this ring as a birthday gift. Since then, I haven’t really dealt well with death. Especially not when it’s so meaningless.”
Eric held her as she let her eyes water and dampen her face. Jenny started pulling out all the trophies she’d gotten since the police had stopped finding her victims’ corpses. She told her fiancé about putting the coin on the track on senior skip day and how she’d kept the chapstick from the other day when they’d discovered she was pregnant.
She held up the receipt. McGill’s recent respite faded away. He licked his lips.
“And that? Where did that come from?” He inquired.
The murderess stuttered a little on her words.
“I…I went to the theater dumpster and took it after that boy was killed there. I don’t know why, but a part of me thought that I needed to remember those poor people who were murdered. For all we know, I could have easily been one of that wacko’s targets.
I took this rock from the path at the park the next day because when the Jones girl was killed, I was so close; it could’ve been me or maybe I could have saved her. Or at least seen the person who did all this.
Eric, I know I shouldn’t have gone to those places, but it felt like I needed to be able to remember the people who suffered at this killer’s hands. No one should die and be forgotten.”
Jenny stopped and held the smooth stone in her hands. She rolled it over and over and looked away from the policeman. Eric reached into the box and retrieved the scrap of lumber.
“What does this remind you of?” He asked.
The way I bled her slowly, Jenny thought.
“The fear I felt when I thought maybe he would come for me one day too when I was alone. I’d even been on that street earlier to get something from the store; I might have gone right past the murderer without knowing it.”
He nodded and picked up the billiards ball. Giving it a light toss, Eric looked at his fiancé. He said nothing but his expression was tired and hard to read.
“I stole that. I didn’t do it until after you and the other police had finished with Martin’s house. I promise I would never have taken something that could be evidence.”
“How did you know where Martin lived?” McGill questioned.
Jenny blushed and hoped the billiard balls hadn’t been cataloged during the investigation.
“Martin was an ass. He constantly hit on all the girls at the store and invited us over regularly. I never took him up on it, but when someone gives you their address fifty times in a year and then you see it on the news, it tends to stick.”
Eric dropped the ball into the box with a little clang. He reached over and shut the lid. Jenny didn’t dare to look him in the eyes; she was afraid he would see through her. He wanted to believe her.
“Jenny, I’m sorry this year has been so difficult and scary. But it’s been good, too. By this time next year, we will be married with a newborn. Let’s lock this away and forget about it. None of the stuff you took is evidence. But we should think about getting you to a professional to help you handle this. All right?” He said, giving her a peck on the cheek.
“Sounds fair. Thanks for understanding. I promise I’m done sneaking into crime scenes.”
Eric rose and offered the killer his hand. She took it and let him lead her up the stairs. As he followed her up, her fiancé let out a low wolf whistle.
“Quite the view I’ve got. Maybe we should just stay up; morning isn’t too far away.”
The couple scrambled back to bed gleefully. The issue of the toolbox was put aside. Neither Eric nor Jenny was concerned with the contents of the rusted case by the time the sun rose.