Heads Will Roll – Chapter Twenty-Eight

A/N: I’m sorry if the formatting on this chapter is incredibly weird. I switched writing programs since Docs feeds whatever you write on it into the AI to “train” it, and the download of the OG document into the new software changed the way things look and I haven’t yet figured out how to actually fix it and make it look normal once copy-pasted again. I tried to fix it my backspacing every paragraph and then re-entering it, and that looks normal in the editor? So hopefully it is. If not, I’m sorry 🙃 

NOT EDITED

“Necromancy.”

Bo’s brow furrowed as he closed the door on the back of the coroner’s van. He adjusted the grip on his phone, just in case that was somehow to blame for Dallas’s lack of any and all context clues. “Excuse me?”

“This Gerry dude, or whatever the fuck his real name is — he thought he could bring his piece of shit son back from the dead if he killed everyone there was to blame for his death and then sacrificed an innocent.”

“Which is why he took Logan. I assumed that was simply to punish Rick.”

“You breezed right past that news a lot faster than we did,” Bridget said.

“There’s… not much a killer could do to genuinely surprise me these days,” Bo said. He lifted a hand in departure as the coroner pulled out of the parking lot. “Did you get that from Bonnie or Rick?”

“Both. Started with Bonnie, confirmed it with Rick,” Dallas said.

“Mm. And he killed Caleb because…?”

“He was going to kill Gerry if he didn’t let the kids go.”

“But beheading the old lady was fine? And… kidnapping the kids?” Bo asked.

“Apparently he’d been told the kids weren’t actually in any danger. They were just to send a message to Rick, and once Rick was dead, the kids would go back home,” Dallas said.

Bo shook his head. “Jupiter, what a clusterfuck.”

“Tell me about it,” Dallas and Bridget said in near unison.

Bo sighed. “I fingerprinted him and took his blood, ran both through the system, but he’s not in it, and I highly doubt Gerry Schutt is his real name. But in case it is, it’d still be helpful to see what kind of records you can find on his name. See if he owns any other property. I’m almost done here at the lake, and then I’d like to head out to where he was keeping Bonnie and Logan, see if we can find the other missing pople to ‘blame’ that haven’t turned up beheaded yet. I imagine he’s got his son’s body stashed somewhere too, which brings up a concern of… how he retrieved it.”

“Ugh. He’s gonna be so gross, B,” Bridget said.

“Incredibly so. I promise I won’t make you look at him when I find him.”

“Good.”

Bo let the silence hang between them for a moment before clearing his throat. “Any word on Jeff?”

“No,” Bridget said.

“He’s alive,” Dallas added. “In surgery, but alive.”

“They won’t tell us much because we aren’t family and his emergency contact is his on and off girlfriend, and she won’t answer her phone.”

“I’m admittedly kind of shocked a small clinic in a small town like this would follow that rule.”

“He was flown to Des Moines, I think,” Dallas said. “Or Ames. I don’t remember. But they transferred him somewhere bigger.”

“Ah, yeah, I can understand that a little more.” Bo shifted his weight between his feet. He’d always struggled a little with what to say in situations like this. Words had never really comforted him, and forcing himself to pretend they might comfort another was a constant hurdle he had to jump in his mind. “If you wanted to find out which hospital he’s at and head out to wait for him to be out of surgery, you can. I’m not doing many interesting things here, just taking a few more photos now that the bodies are cleared out.”

“I can’t do anything for him in some waiting room,” Bridget said. “And if the girlfriend’s there, I…”

“The ex-girlfriend. They’re off right now, remember?” Bo asked.

“It doesn’t matter. I still can’t help him, and if she’s there, I don’t wanna cause any issues. And if he makes it through surgery—”

“When,” Dallas interrupted. “When he makes it through surgery.”

“I don’t want the first thing he deals with to be some fight because she found out about me,” Bridget said.

“You’re not the other woman in this situation, Bridget. Jeff said—”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m more use here,” she insisted.

Bo blew out a breath. “Okay. Let me know if you find anything on Gerry, then. Might not hurt to check out the guy he was pretending to be, as well, just in case he did something other than steal his name.”

“You got it,” Bridget said.

“We’ll check in soon,” Dallas said. “If you’re done there before I call, shoot me a text and I’ll swing by and getcha. Okay?”

“Sounds good,” Bo said. “Talk soon.”

“Yeah, talk soon.”

Bo pulled his phone away from his ear and ended the call before tucking the device into his pocket. “Necromancy,” he whispered, eyes scanning the lake. Bo didn’t claim to be an expert in necromancy by any means, but he’d worked a case or two surrounding rituals. Those rituals being ‘real’ versus entirely in the killer’s head was debatable at best, but they had generally taken place in the same location as the person the ritual was meant to affect. So if one were to revive the dead, wouldn’t he want to spill the blood of an innocent in the same location of the body? Or was this some sort of spell cast via hex bag àla Supernatural? Maybe it didn’t matter at all.

Bo wished he had all the answers on that one. He’d certainly save a lot of time looking for evidence and clues that way.
If he were all-knowing, he could have had Gerry found and caught before Kathy oh so helpfully leaked case information to the press and ‘sped up’ Gerry’s timeline. Before Logan was kidnapped, before Gerry’s partner was killed, before Jeff was shot.

Before Logan and Bonnie had to watch so much trauma unfold before their eyes.

But unfortunately, Bo was not all-knowing, and he truly didn’t even know where to begin searching for the missing bodies, Gerry’s son’s horrifically old corpse included. So for now, he’d start with what he did know: photographs.

***

“Oh, my God.”

Dallas lifted his hands from the keyboard on Rick’s desk like he’d been burnt. “What? What’s wrong?”

“He’s calling me.”

“Jeff?” Bridget only nodded. “Well… that’s a good thing. Right?”

“What if it’s not him? What if… what if it’s someone at the hospital?”

“I don’t think they’d call you. If something, umm, happened and they still couldn’t get hold of that chick, I think they’d call Rick. Or maybe Jeff’s parents. It’s him. Answer it.”

“Yeah? That one of your things? Y-your spidey sense or whatever?” Bridget asked.

Dallas raised an eyebrow. “Would… it help if it was?”

“I dunno. Maybe.”

“Then let’s say it is.”

Bridget rolled her eyes, though the nervousness still written all over her face undercut her usual Bridget Decker flair. Finally, she tapped the green button on her phone and pressed it to her ear. “Decker speaking.”

“Hey.” Jeff. Rough and tired and weak, but undeniably Jeff. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I woke up and… and would you believe that my room’s empty? No flowers, no beautiful woman, no nothin’? Just empty.”

Bridget laughed, spinning her chair away from Dallas. “No, I-I can’t believe that.” A pause. “I’m so glad to hear your voice, Biggs.”

“Right back atcha,” he mumbled. “Please… please tell me the reason you’re not here isn’t because of something… happenin’ at the lake.”

“They’re okay,” Bridget whispered. “They’re okay, baby, I promise.”

“Good,” Jeff whispered back. “All of ‘em? Kids and… and Rick?”

“Everybody.”

“Gerry?”

“Dead. Dallas shot him.”

“Mm. Good.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of been the general consensus on that one.” Bridget sniffled before wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Which hospital are you in? We—I wasn’t sure if it was Ames or Ankeny or Des Moines or…”

“Umm…” Jeff cleared his throat, as if there was any way that would be enough to clear the scratchiness from his voice. “This cool cup of ice chips on my nightstand indicates I’m in Des Moines.”

“Des Moines,” Bridget echoed. “Okay. I’ll come see you, yeah? I-it’s not like I’m being super useful here.”

“Well, I got plenty of useful stuff you can do here.”

Bridget snorted. “Oh, do you now?”

“Nothing like that. God, get your mind out of the gutter,” Jeff said, his voice slow, his words a little more slurred than before. “I’m gonna… go back to my little nap, and then I’ll be… all awake and stuff when you get here. And then you can… can feed me my ice chips.”

Bridget laughed. “Deal. Y-you enjoy your nap, Biggs. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Mm. Lookin’ forward… to it.”

“Me too,” Bridget whispered. She waited a moment, simply listening to the beep of Jeff’s heart monitor for what felt like far, far too long to confirm he really was alive before ending the call. She turned back toward the desk and set her phone down. “Ugh, I’m gonna throw up.”

Dallas lifted his head, eyes pulling away from the computer monitor and up to her face. “Everything okay?”

“He’s alive. H-he’s awake. Mostly. H-he’s gonna go back to sleep now. But my stomach is… so many kinds of fucked up.”

Dallas offered a smile. “I can only imagine.”

“And God, do I think that man deserves to get laid, but I totally know his doctor won’t let me.”

Dallas snorted before laughing. “Yeah, that’s the Decker I know.” He drummed his fingers against the edge of the desk, tilting his head to the side. “You need a ride to the hospital, then?”

She shook her head. “I can handle it, once my stomach settles a little.” She dropped her elbows to the desk, scrubbing both hands over her face. “You’ll be okay by yourself here?”

“Oh, yeah. Bo won’t be at the lake much longer, so I’ll be able to stalk him around whatever locale he shifts to next.”

“Good, that’ll keep you entertained. Bridget looked down, picking at the edge of one of her fingernails. “You or Bo will… will call if you find the guy’s son?”

“Yeah. He’ll be dead though.”

“That’s what you hope for, anyway.”

“Okay, dude, if we’re going down the necromancy route, the fucker didn’t even complete his little ‘ritual’. So the son’s totally dead,” Dallas said.

Bridget’s eyes lifted back to his face, though she didn’t lift her head. She raised a brow. “Yeah, assuming his ritual theory was right. Sitting there like you know shit about fuck.”

I hate her, Ed announced.

Dallas only smiled. It was one of many reasons he didn’t mind working with Bridget even slightly. Ed absolutely hated her guts, which meant he primarily left Dallas the hell alone if Bridget was actively around. It was actually bit of a shame that she’d be heading down to Des Moines, leaving Dallas to fend for himself against Ed’s onslaught once more.

“One of us will keep you posted, I promise,” Dallas assured. “What’d Bo call him? Your… your tree?” One corner of Bridget’s mouth lifted as she offered a little nod. “Go see your tree. All the blood and gore and shit—it’ll be here waiting for you when you get back. You won’t miss much, I promise.”

“Thank you. And… and tell Bo to call if he needs me. I’ll come back.”

“I’ve got him. I speak a little bit of Bo too, if you’ll recall.”

“I know.” Bridget pushed herself to her feet, swiping her phone from the desk. “But I’ve known him longer, which makes me so much better at it then you.”

“Pfft, fuck off.”

Bridget cracked a smile, rounding the desk only to punch him in the shoulder. “Later, loser.”

“Bitch.”

Bridget snorted. “Cunt.”

Dallas’s mouth fell open, but he really couldn’t even feign offense long enough to stop himself from laughing. “That’s so fucking rude, even for you, man.”

She slashed a dismissive hand through the air, already walking toward the lobby. “I’m a lady, I can say it.”

“Hardly a lady, Decker.”

Without turning around, she lifted one hand to flip him off over her shoulder. Dallas chuckled to himself, gaze dropping back to the computer monitor. Yeah, she’d be okay. Biggs was okay, and she’d be right back at a hundred percent once she saw him in person.

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Enjoying the story? Consider dropping a comment or a like down below!! The Bridget/Dallas banter absolutely flowed from my fingers in no time at all, and it’s kind of the most confident I’ve been in writing something in quite some time, so I truly hope you enjoyed this chapter!

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