Resurrection 54Posted: November 27, 2016
This is a chapter of the book I am writing for NaNoWriMo. If you want to read it from the start, click here for the chapter index.
Danny Canada pulled the Saturday night 11pm to 7am shift. Dalton was clear he was to go by the preacher’s at least once an hour and keep an eye out for any unusual vehicles either driving or parked in town. In a small town you get to know who drives what and odd vehicles tend to stand out.
Dalton had not told anyone, especially Canada, that the body at the dam was Polly Henderson. There were next of kin to notify and positive ID to confirm. Canada wasn’t the kind of person Dalton trusted to keep his mouth shut. They had found her purse with most of its content intact at the side of the spillway, along with her ID.
Danny made his pass between 11 and 12, then 12 and 1, then 1 and 2. No lights, no strange vehicles. “This is stupid. Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen tonight.” It was his excuse to go over and waste time at the Quickshop, where Angela was working the night shift.
At 2:08 he pulled into the lot. “Hey Angela!” he said as he walked in the door.
“Hello Officer Canada.” He liked the way she talked to him, she treated him like he was somebody. Everyone else treated him like he was a nothing.
Angela was a 19 year old and cute in the way 19 year old girls typically are. She didn’t have any romantic feelings toward Danny, she just saw him as someone who helped her kill time in the slow hours of the night. Danny, of course, thought she must be smitten.
“Any terrible crimes happening in Silerville this Saturday night?” She asked.
“No, pretty dead. They found a body up at the dam earlier today, but that’s about all that’s been happening.”
“Well, help yourself to some coffee. I need to mop in front of there in a minute, so get it now so I can get it done.”
“Sure, don’t mind if I do.” Answered Canada.
They continued to chit chat like this for an hour, then more. Canada’s rounds could wait.
Dalton couldn’t sleep. He didn’t like the idea of J.W. still being in town and Polly’s death just increased his fears. His mind tried to pull it all together.
The identity thief was probably here to either get some piece of information he needed he couldn’t get remotely-which meant he was planning to break into the parsonage-or he was looking to do worse. Dalton had trouble believing somehow he wanted to assume J.W.’s identity, but that was at least possible. It didn’t make sense.
Then Polly. How did she fit into this whole mess? It could be coincidence, but that seemed a pretty odd one. It made more sense if it somehow fit together. Polly was known to sleep around, sometimes with married men. Was she having an affair with J.W.? It’s possible, they were at least friends and she was a handsome woman. If she was, maybe J.W. killed her. Took her out to the dam for a meet up, strangled her and dumped the body. J.W. was big enough to do it.
But how does that fit with the other murder? If J.W. killed his doppleganger there had to be some motive and it appears J.W. was off on the Appalachian Trail when it happened. Or was he? It would be almost impossible to locate witnesses who saw him on the trail, they all use nicknames. What if J.W. somehow planned all this?
Things started to make a little more sense in Dalton’s mind. What if J.W. knew all along he had a brother and they were both in line to collect some inheritance from a long-lost relative, probably their father? Maybe the brother didn’t even know. He gets the brother here when J.W. seems to have a perfect alibi and kills him, then drives back to the trail, only to have a deputy take him back to his car.
No one would have even questioned him. Heck, Dalton hadn’t either.
He was having an affair with Polly and it either became to inconvenient to keep her around or maybe she knew what he had done. Either way, Polly would have to go.
That would also explain why J.W. wasn’t worried about going up to Vanceburg with his family. He knew he was in no danger because he was the killer. He had seen people lead double lives before, maybe that’s what J.W had been doing.
Monday he was going to get those adoption records and then find his mother and his father. Then he could question J.W.
Tab pulled the Buick down Front Street to do a drive-by of the house. It was after 4am and there were no lights on. He turned down the alley behind the house, shut off his lights and inched the car past to see if there were any good approaches from the back. He saw the back door of the house was dark and hidden behind a tree. That would be his entrance. He pulled back onto Front Street and drove a half block away and began gathering his tools from the back seat, his silencer enabled S&W lying next to him on the passenger seat.
When Canada got back in his prowler it was almost 4am. He figured he should take another pass by the parsonage just to keep Dalton straight, then do the rest of his normal rounds. He pulled the Crown Vic onto front street and drove slowly by the parsonage. Nothing looked out of place, no strange cars. Satisfied, he sped up and was just about to turn onto 3rd Street when he saw a car parked on the side of the Street. It was a copper colored Buick with Ohio tags.
It seemed out of place, so Canada drove over to investigate. He was pretty sure the car wasn’t here a couple hours ago. As soon as his lights hit the car, he could see a man in the driver’s seat.
Canada lit up the back of the car with his spotlight.
Even in the dark, Tab could spot the headlight configuration of a Crown Vic. They had been used by police for decades, though now were being replaced by more modern vehicles. Small towns still typically had a fleet.
Tab had to think quickly. Normal procedure would be for the cop to call in the tag before he ever approached the car. He grabbed his S&W and put it in his front pocket, with the silencer attached, the grip protruded enough to have him fast access. He just had to distract the cop long enough to keep him from radioing in the plate.
He exited the vehicle and walked in front of the plate, trying to obscure the view, while he smiled and held his palms open in a non-threatening manner.
At this point an officer following his training would have advised him to get back in the car. Canada didn’t follow his training. He stepped out of his vehicle himself, leaning on the door. He hadn’t even removed the tab holding his gun in place in its holster.
Tab started speaking, “Officer, I’m glad to see you. I got lost out here and I was looking for…” with that Tab pulled his gun and fired a burst of three shots without taking time to aim. It’s never a good idea to shoot that way, but he was just a couple yards out. The first went through the door, hitting Canada in the leg, the second through the window and into his hip. The third missed entirely.
Canada half fell, half ducked back into his cruiser. Before he could reach the radio, Tab came up behind him and shot him in the back of the head. He was dead instantly.
Tab pushed the body into the car, shut off the lights and ignition.
In the movies, silencers make even the largest calibre gun silent. Just a whisper. The reality if far different. While not being as loud as it would normally be, gunshots even through a silencer are loud enough, even more so in the dead of night. He quickly collected his casings, got into the Buick and headed back to The Wayside.