The Devil's Road: A SERIAL NOVEL
The Devil's Road: A SERIAL NOVEL
CHAPTER 04: TALL IN THE SADDLE --- ISSUE 04: GAMES IN THE DARK
Welcome to Issue #14 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 4: Tall in the Saddle, Issue 03: Crosshairs of Uncertainty.
If you are new to the series, I recommend you check out Chapter 1 which you can read or listen to for free here:
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And now, please enjoy Chapter 4 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.
Sam sits in the parking lot of the Sequoyah County coroner’s office. She stares at the screen on her flip phone. The digital read out shows four missed calls, each with a subsequent voicemail. The calls had arrived in rapid succession, each not more than two minutes apart. The last one was at 2:12AM. The clock on her dash reads 2:16AM.
The calls were all from the same number, the main office of the county coroner, Dr. Bart Laurent. The same number that called her multiple times today leaving his syrupy plea for attention. Sam indulges his needs, and in exchange, he offer her information. Sam despised the transactional relationship almost as much as she despised the transaction he required. She hits play on the last voice mail.
“She’s here, you know. I have her on the table,” there’s a long pause in his message, but she can still hear his heavy breath in the phone’s small speaker. “She can watch.”
Sam smashes the button to end the message and tosses the phone into the passenger seat disgusted. She’s got to get that autopsy report tonight. By tomorrow it’ll be in the Captain’s hands and she’ll never get close to a copy of it.
Flipping open the phone she dials the number back. The phone barely makes it through a single ring before the other end is answered. There’s silence on the other end. Finally, Sam says, “I’m here.”
“I’ll buzz you in,” Bart responds in a breathy whisper before he hangs up. Sam pockets the phone and opens the glove compartment. She pulls out the sample she scraped from her face this morning and pockets it as well.
The cruiser is parked next to the only other car in the lot. If your automobile says something about you, then Bart was clearly looking for attention. His canary yellow Porsche was distinct not only for its color, but its price tag. Anything above and beyond the cost of a heavy-duty pick up truck in these parts and you clearly don’t belong.
Sam pulls the file folder with the word “Lot Lizards” written across the top from her trunk. She also slings a small courier bag across her chest.
It’s a crisp night. Her breath turns to smoke as she walks across the parking lot and up the wide staircase to the front entrance. She pulls the metal handle, but the door doesn’t budge.
She gives it a shake, more out of frustration than an anticipation that it will somehow magically unlock the door. She drops the box on the ground and fishes her cell phone out of her pocket. Her fingers shiver slightly as the cold creeps into the seams of her thin uniform. She calls again. A musty, metallic scent wafts from the building, mingling with the night’s chill. The phone rings four times and a machine picks up.
“You’ve reached the office of-” Sam ends the call and immediately redials. The call again goes to voicemail. She gives the door another shake, this time more violently.
In the dusty and cramped security office, Dr. Bart Laurent looks down at the small black and white monitors. He runs his tongue over his thin, overly manicured mustache, slicking it down with saliva followed by his index finger to press the dark hairs into place. He pushes his gold wire framed glasses up on his nose to watch as Sam pulls again on the front door, her frustration is really mounting. That’s good, he want’s her mad, she performs better.
Sam looks up at the security camera pointing down in her direction. She can feel his eyes on her. She dials his number again, and again it goes to voicemail. She raises the bag strapped across her chest, shaking it for the camera to see.
Bart leans closer to the small monitor and watches as Sam unzips the bag and pulls it open for the camera to see what’s inside. Reflecting on his lenses from the monitor is a large strap-on sex toy. A wet toothy grin stretches across his face but doesn’t quite reach the eyes. He follows her every move with an unsettling intensity.
Sam zips the bag closed and puts her hand on the handle of the door, waiting. Nothing happens. She considers leaving for a moment. Her shift started at five this morning and she’s running on fumes. He’ll open the door, but he want’s to play first. She doesn’t have the patience tonight. Sam pulls out her revolver.
By mandate, an officer is not to pull their firearm unless all other attempts using non-violent methods have failed. It seems that Sam has gotten to that point. She points the gun at the security camera and pulls back the hammer on her service revolver.
Bart lets out a grunty laugh, he’s certain she wouldn’t shoot the camera. It’s an empty threat. There’s a flash on the monitor. A loud POP echoes through the empty building that makes Bart jump.
Sam pulls the hammer back again on the gun and aims it at the lock on the door. There’s an audible buzz as the lock springs open. She drops her gun back into its holster, picks up her box and goes inside.
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