Blowin’ in the Wind
The Devil’s Road — CHAPTER 02: AN OKLAHOMA TRIPTYCH
Welcome to Issue #7 of The Devil’s Road, a serial novel following the exploits of Samantha Hart, a Sequoyah County Sheriff, full of vengeance and fury using her badge to hunt down her sister's killer as she uncovers a trail of bloodshed that coats the heartland. If you missed it, you can read last week’s Chapter 2/Issue 3: The Drop here.
If you are new to the series, I recommend you check out Chapter 1 which you can read or listen to for free here:
If you are enjoying this series, please consider sharing it with others, and don’t hoard all the good tales for yourself.
And now, please enjoy Chapter 2 Issue 4 of … The Devil’s Road.
In 2004 an Oklahoma Bureau of Investigations analyst discovered a crime pattern along the Interstate 40 corridor between Oklahoma and Mississippi. Subsequently, The Federal Bureau of Investigations (F.B.I.) started the Highway Serial Killings Initiative. They discovered over 500 bodies of women along the interstate highway system with more than 200 potential suspects, a trail of bloodshed that coats the heartland. The Devil’s Road is a serialized novel based on this horrific discovery.
Wind whipping across an open plain can gain a ferocity only rivaled by the rage found under the roaring storm clouds of a hurricane at sea. It can also whip the hair of a Sequoyah County sheriff into a hell of a knot. Now, admittedly, Bandy Williamson’s locks were a little over regulation length, and his Chief reminded him of that fact about three months ago. He still hasn’t gotten a haircut. Mrs. Williamson says it’s just a phase, but Bandy likes the way it feels.
Sitting atop a slight hill on a rusty metal chair with torn vinyl cushions is the body of a woman. She has long red hair that whips in the wind as ferociously as Bandy’s own. Her pale skin glows white against the dead, yellow grass, and her vibrant red hair makes her look more doll-like than human.
Bandy’s long, thin fingers run through his straw-colored hair. He checks his watch, paces along his beaten path beside the road, and generally kicks sand—doing everything he can to avoid turning around and looking at the dead body. He’s seen about all he can stand today.
Bandy relaxes a bit as he hears a siren in the distance. Samantha Hart’s cruiser wavers in the humidity, growing sharper as it comes into focus. Bandy checks his belt and hat to make sure everything’s in place.
Sam’s car pulls in next to Bandy’s, and she cuts the siren. She knows the scene the moment she arrives. It’s become familiar—a word no one wants to utter… murder. She sees the patterns. Sam steps out, surveying the terrain. The tall prairie grass has been tamped down into two paths: one light, the walk to the body, and one dark, the walk back to the road. The body is female, the hair red. It’s him again, she’s certain.
“Hey there, Lieutenant,” Bandy blurts out with a little wave.
“Bandy.” She nods in his direction.
“I gotta tell ya. I ain’t been up there yet,” he admits.
Sam is startled. “You mean to tell me you haven’t confirmed that it’s a—”
He cuts her off, “Now Sam, ain’t no way I’m going up there alone. You kiddin’ me? I mean, you ever even seen a dead body before? They’re hard and stiff, and if she’s in any condition like she looks from here… and she’s real? No sir-ee. That ain’t for me.”
Sam tosses her keys at Bandy’s chest, hard. “Bandy, shut up and get the camera and evidence bag outta my trunk, would ya?”
Bandy takes the keys and walks dutifully to the trunk as Sam refocuses on the task at hand. Something catches her eye in the grass between the body at the top of the hill and where she stands. It’s rustling in the wind, but it’s not grass. It sounds silkier. She walks wide of the path to her left, the one out.
Ahead, she sees a white plastic bag. It could have been tossed from the path. It could also be trash from the road. She’s careful as she approaches, looking for depressions in the terrain. She crouches, pulling a pen from her breast pocket. The sack isn’t touching the ground but rests like a hammock among the prairie grass.
Sam sticks the pen into the opening and pulls back the plastic to see what’s inside. Blue rags with spotty dark stains. It could be blood. It could also be a lot of other things.
Bandy talks to himself as he unlocks the trunk of Sam’s cruiser. “Why the hell did you have to tell her you ain’t been up there yet, you doofus?”
When the trunk springs open, Bandy sees a small camera case next to a cardboard box. He slings the camera bag over his shoulder and glances up the hill to see Samantha poking around through a plastic bag in the grass. He lifts the lid of the box labeled “Lot Lizards” in black ink. Inside is a stack of manila folders. He picks up the first one.
Inside the folder, on the inside cover, is a picture of a little girl. She’s maybe sixteen. Her eyes are taped shut. Bandy flips through the file, mainly to cover the photo. It’s not something he ever wants to see again. He finds a handwritten report from the officer who found her. The summary sentence gives him chills: “It is visibly apparent that the victim, a minor, was raped and tortured, possibly post-mortem, and likely died of blunt force trauma to the head.”
He closes the file and gently puts it back in the box, replacing the lid. His hand hovers on top of the box for a moment. Sometimes it’s better to never have looked.
Samantha sees Bandy standing at her trunk with the camera slung over his shoulder. “Hey, what the hell?” she yells back at him.
Bandy slams the trunk shut and trots towards Sam, bringing her the camera.
“Stop!” She hollers at him. “Don’t you see the tracks?” She waves him off to the side, to follow in her path.
Bandy hands over the camera bag. “Sorry, I’ve never actually had to work a scene before.”
Samantha doesn’t have time for pity. “Yeah, well, fuckin’ man up, Bandy. This is the job, and if you stick around long enough, you’ll get used to it.” She pulls out the camera and hands the case back to Bandy. He takes it with a shaky hand. Sam snaps several photos of the bag in the grass.
“Gimme a card?” Sam says.
“Huh?” Bandy’s confused.
“Did you bring the evidence bag?” she asks.
Bandy turns and runs back to Sam’s cruiser. Samantha knows what she’s about to encounter will be difficult, and his not being around might be a better plan anyway. She continues to blaze a path up the hill and wide of the body, snapping photos as she approaches. The wind has picked up, really started to blow. This would be a godsend on most days in the heat, but at a crime scene, it’s causing issues.
The plastic bag launches into the air and flies away into the forever. Sam watches it go, cursing Bandy under her breath for not being there to support her. She also notices that the hair on the body is coming loose. It’s a wig. She quickly moves up the hill, seeing the wig come loose in the whipping wind.
Sam reaches out and snatches the wig from the air as it sweeps loose from the scalp of the body. The hair from the wig flutters on her face, leaving red streaks of blood on one cheek. She continues up the hill, wide around the body, snapping photos as she moves.
When she sees it, she knows it’s him. Whoever he is. This is new, but it’s an iteration, not a new creation. The face on Sandy’s body has been removed and sewn back on to resemble a mask.
Sam focuses the camera on the detail of the sewing work and takes a picture.
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