Heads Will Roll – Chapter Ten

NOT EDITED

Carol Jameson’s front door was closed, and the doorknob wasn’t busted. That was the extent of Rick, Jeff, and Bridget’s examination of the palace before they started questioning the neighbors. If Bo wanted the house untouched, they’d leave it for him, even if it meant overfilling the blonde’s plate. If it was what the expert wanted, who the hell were they to question him?

Rick stepped up onto Gerry Schutt’s porch and rapped two knuckles against the door. Gerry was directly across the street from Carol, and since he worked at the school and would have had the day off, it seemed like a damn good place to start.

It took a few minutes for Gerry to come to the door, and when he did, he was wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. “Rick, Jeff.” His gaze drifted over to Bridget, brow furrowing slightly. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Officer Decker. I’m… shadowing from a different department.”

“Officer Decker,” Gerry echoed. “What’s going on? Is this about whatever the school was closed for today?”

“Not quite,” Rick said after a moment. “We got a call about Miss Jameson across the street. Her daughter hasn’t heard from her today, she was concerned, and we stopped in for a wellness check. Any chance you’ve seen her today?”

“I’m sorry, no, I don’t remember seeing her. I normally do on Saturdays, and on weekdays if I come home for lunch. She’s usually coming out as I’m leaving to grab her mail. If she came out today, I didn’t see her, but… I also wasn’t getting into the car and leaving again, so I could’ve just completely missed her. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. Did you hear anything strange today? Or something different than usual?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Some shouting, I guess?”

“What kind of shouting?” Jeff asked.

“I don’t know. It was kind of… muffled? Like it was far away. I couldn’t really make out anything, and it didn’t last long. There wasn’t anything that sounded like stuff being broken or thrown around. I didn’t see anyone outside doing anything weird or suspicious. It was just… noise. Figured it was probably some kids, since they were all out today.”

Unfortunately, that was definitely a possibility. “All right. Well, thanks, Gerry. If you happen to think of anything else, give the station a call, okay?”

“Will do, Rick.”

***

Three of Carol Jameson’s neighbors worked at the school. Gerry Schutt, the bus driver; Owen Murphy, the all grades music teacher; and Phillip Warren, one of the high school and middle school science teachers. Of the three, Owen had been the only one who claimed not to be home most of the day, claiming he had used the day off to run some errands. Phillip had reported hearing the same sounds Gerry had — muffled shouting, like it was off in the distance. Like Gerry, he hadn’t hear anything break, no doors slamming, no car tires peeling away from any of the houses. Just some muffled, unidentifiable shouting. Phillip had technically described it as ‘more like a scream, I guess,’ but that didn’t necessarily help push things one way or another. It was just… words. Words that didn’t really help Carol or Bonnie.

Back from a smoke break, Jeff slid back into the passenger seat of the cruiser and pulled the door shut. He held his hands out in front of the vents, occasionally rubbing at a particularly cold or stiff knuckle. “What now?”

“We could hang around the street for a bit, see if we hear any of those muffled screams or shouts for ourselves,” Bridget said from the back seat.

“Not a bad idea. Whatcha think, Rick?” Jeff asked.

After a moment, Rick nodded. “Until Bo checks out Carol’s house or gets a good hit on the DNA, that’s about all we can do. So… might as well.”

***

It was nearing eight PM by the time Bo had finished at the lake, called Rick back to the scene for a ride, catalogued the evidence, and made it to Carol’s house. “None of you have to stick around, if you don’t want to. You can clock out and get home,” Bo said as he stepped up on Carol’s small porch. “I’m sure your family would do well to have you home, Rick. And I’m sure you’d benefit from it, as well.”

“Yeah,” Rick said, his voice quiet. He gestured toward the door with his chin. “I want to know what it’s like in there first.”

“Sure. We can do that.” With a gloved hand, Bo opened the door to Carol’s house and, after shining his light over the entryway, stepped inside. “In a town like this… what’s the chance of people locking their doors?” he asked.

“Very, very low,” Rick said.

“I figured as much.” Bo stepped a little further into the house, his flashlight drifting over the walls. He stopped at a particular spot behind the door, head tilting to the side. He grabbed the door and gently opened the rest of the way before moving it back a couple inches again. “There’s a hole in the drywall here behind the door.”

“Like from the doorknob?” Jeff asked.

Bo asked. “It’s the right shape and size, and it lines up perfectly. The radiating cracks through the wall indicate it was a pretty good swing of the door that caused it.”

“Like if someone threw it open.”

“Yes.”

“Like… if Carol tried to close the door on them and they busted in anyway?” Jeff asked.

“It’s… a possibility, yes.”

“He agrees with you,” Bridget whispered, leaning over toward Jeff.

“In your possibility thing, does it possibly mean she knew the killer?” Jeff asked.

Bo glanced up at the ceiling before lifting his shoulders. Surely if the deputies were directly asking him for opinions, his assumptions, they couldn’t bitch him out for giving them. Right? “Generally speaking, in cases where the victim knows the killer, he or she will let them in without question or issue, and after the door is quietly and safely closed, that’s when the killer strikes. There are obviously exceptions to that, like a violent or abusive ex, an estrangled family member… etcetera. But her door has a peephole, and in most cases, if you have someone you’re scared of, someone you’re worried about violently turning up on your doorstep, you lock your door, and you check the peephole before you open it.”

When Jeff didn’t tell him to shut the hell up or criticize him for thinking his thoughts were worth anything to an actual cop, Bo turned to look up at the man. “There are obviously always exceptions to just about everything, that theory or possibility included. We can make our best guesses based on the condition of the door, the crime scene, and the body, but they’re always just guesses.”

“What would your best guess be based on those conditions?”

“I haven’t done a full examination or autopsy on Miss Jameson. But with that said, the initial examination didn’t show any signs of hesitation on her neck or wrists, where her hands were removed. Frequently, when someone is killed by a person they know, there will be hesitation marks in cases of dismembering. Starting and stopping. Not cutting deeply enough the first time around. I didn’t see any indications of that. So… if it was someone she knew, my initial assumption would be that she didn’t know them well. Or that they didn’t know her well. Not well enough to feel guilty or uncertain about it.”

“That’s… so incredibly fucked up,” Jeff whispered.

Bo pulled his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment, nodding. “It’s an unfortunate reality of this type of…” He cleared his throat, eyes shifting to Bridget’s face.

Bridget gave Jeff’s upper arm a squeeze. “It’s a lot to take in. You already saw the crime scene at the lake, and that was horrific. You don’t have to throw yourself into a second crime scene today, Jeff.”

Jeff searched her face for something, his green eyes eventually lifting to Rick’s face instead. “Rick?”

“You don’t have to be here, Jeff. No blame, no guilt trip… If I had the chance to go back to my first homicide and ease into it in any sense, I would. Take the night, come in fresh tomorrow morning. Okay?”

“And you’ll… be outta here and headin’ home soon too?” Jeff asked.

“I will. I promise.”

Rather than responding, Jeff simply clapped Rick on the shoulder as he walked past him and headed for the door.

“I’m gonna walk him out,” Bridget said, giving Bo’s arm a quick pat before walking after the deputy.

Rick cleared his throat. “So, the door was probably thrown open by her killer. But you think she opened it for him first?”

“Well, either she did or the killer did. Either way, she likely tried to close it, and the killer threw it back open to knock her off balance and get inside. It couldn’t have been kicked in, though. The strike plate, the lock, the knob, the hinges, the frame… Everything’s solid. Everything’s in good condition. Nothing’s busted. It was thrown open with force, sure, but it wasn’t because they kicked in it, and if she was nowhere near the door when it was opened, throwing it open and making a lot of noise is just, well, idiotic. It would have given her a better chance of being aware, of getting away.”

“Yeah. And he wouldn’t have wanted that.” Rick shook his head. “Town this size, someone gets away and gets your description to the police, you get found a hell of a lot quicker than in a large city.”

“Generally speaking, yes,” Bo agreed.

Rick drew in a deep breath, shoulders falling heavily as he let it back out. “I want to see where she… I need to see where he killed her.”

Bo nodded toward the kitchen. “I can see what appears to be blood on the counter closest to the edge of the sink. That would be our starting point.”

Rick held out an arm. “Lead the way.”

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