Tracking Evil, a Podcast Pt. 02

Authors note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Tracking Evil, The Podcast -- Part Two

Episode One: 'Tis best to weigh the enemy more mighty than he seems.'

Chase city was nestled in rural southern Virginia, a couple of hours drive from Richmond. It was a small town, less than three thousand souls living in and around it. As Erica parked her rental car beside the small hotel in the town center she was reminded strongly of the town where she had been raised in Kansas. It was a nice tonic after the larger cities she'd been visiting these last weeks.

After Tiny had tipped her off to this town, she'd spent a week preparing for her visit. First Erica had needed to complete some outstanding projects, some articles she'd needed to finish for local papers back home. Her parents had gotten her a few jobs like this to help tide her over and as much as she didn't like the puff pieces she was asked to write, it helped pay the bills. Once she'd sent them on to the waiting editors, she started her next task... research.

Erica reached out to the photographer who had taken the picture of the old farm building. There was no answer at his listed business number and there was no reply to the email she sent. She dug a bit deeper, going as far as contacting the local chamber of commerce in Chase City to see if they could help put her in touch with him. Through them she found out that the photographer's business was now closed, the man himself having passed away just six months ago.

She tried to identify the location the photo had been taken at, using image searches, satellite images and local maps. She had a few contenders but without visiting the sites there was no way to be sure. After that she tried to find out if there had been any murders in a period ending five years ago in that area. She had no exact date or location which made it a laborious task. Again, she tried local crime reports, newspaper sources and online sources. There had been a few unnatural deaths but there were no details for some of them as to the locations where they had occurred. Erica was also aware that the death might have been listed as natural causes or an accident as well, making the task of pinning it down almost impossible.

Frustrated she had reached out once more to Victor.

"Hey-hey G man." Erica said as he answered his phone.

"Erica? What's going on? You okay?" Victor's voice sounded tense with concern.

"I'm great, just wanted to check with you about that party. When is it again?" Erica lied casually, leaning back in the swivel chair in her office, spinning slightly as she did so. Through the phone she could hear a snort of exasperation from her friend.

"I spoke to Hollis, he filled me in on what happened. Sorry the whole thing was a bust." Victor replied.

Erica had to remind herself to sound a bit downbeat when she answered, she didn't want her friend to know she'd worked around the issue. She especially didn't want him to know how she'd managed it.

"Yeah, it was but Sergeant Hollis was really good about it all. I'm not totally out of options though. I do have another lead." she said.

"And I'm guessing this lead is the real reason for the phone call." Victor shot back, humour coloring his tone.

"Now that you mention it..." she replied.

"Fine, what do you need?"

"I am planning on travelling to Virginia in the next few days, place called Chase City. I could use some local knowledge to identify a building, maybe tell me if there had been any criminal activity associated with it." Erica explained, "That's it, simple as that."

Victor mulled the request over in his head. Erica could here the sounds of the city coming through on the phone as he remained quiet, in thought.

"Okay, I can see if there is someone down there I can tap for help." he eventually replied, "doesn't sound like there's any risk to you associated with that. One thing though..."

'Here it comes.' Erica thought before answering sweetly. "What's that?"

"You wear a dress at the party and you genuinely give my friend a chance. I think you guys could really hit it off if you are open to it. I don't want you writing him off before you even meet." Victor answered her.

"Yes, yes, dress, openminded, can do. Remind me again why I'm friends with you." Erica said good naturedly.

"Because with your stumpy legs you need a tall man like me to fetch stuff off the top shelf!" he shot back as he hung up.

"Stumpy? Stumpy!" Erica spluttered into the phone uselessly.

She found herself smiling at the memory as she checked in to her hotel room. Once there she texted the number Victor had sent her. Once she'd gotten her reply she headed down for the meet.

Erica could see that the town had seen better times. As she walked towards a local diner, she ruminated on how changing fortunes can affect a town, itself a living organism. Tobacco farming had once been the staple economy of the region but the decline in tobacco sales and the move to foreign grown crops had decimated that section of the economy. The few industrial plants in the town, mostly clothing related, had also closed down, cheaper imports undercutting local industry.

That had all left a scar on the face of the town. Empty buildings, closed shopfronts. A lot of the younger generation leaving to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Those who remained focused on the daily struggle to hold onto the legacy handed down by their parents, keeping businesses open, keeping properties in the family. Small town America... she had seen similar sights in her own state.

At the diner, her appointment had already arrived and was picking idly at a pastry while she waited for Erica.

Deputy Sheriff Arlene McGuigan was in her forties, a veteran of the county Sheriff's department. Her tan shirt, dark green trouser uniform with the gold star riding high on her left breast afforded her a measure of respect, Erica could see that. The speed that she was served as she slid into the booth to join Deputy McGuigan spoke volumes. They seemed of similar heights and build although the older woman's chest seemed larger than her own. The red hair and lightly freckled skin coupled with her surname were clear signposts to the Deputy's Irish origins.

"I got a call, some agent back in DC asking if I could extend you a courtesy, that sound about right to you?" Once the introductions had been made, Deputy McGuigan had been quick to cut to the chase.

"Yes, nothing too taxing, at least I hope not. Just one second." Erica said with a smile before she reached for her bag, removing a copy of the photograph Tiny had found online. She slid it across the table to the Deputy and gave her a moment to peruse it.

"Basically, I am hoping you can tell me where that building is first of all." Erica explained to the other woman.

"Well, that's no hardship at all. Its an old farmhouse, maybe ten minutes outside of town. Farm got folded into someone else's spread, maybe back in the 1920's, thereabouts. Then it just fell to ruin. Local kids used to use it as a make-out spot, drink some beers, smoke some pot, that kind of thing." The Deputy slid the photograph back to Erica and then fished out a pen, marking on a map that Erica proffered towards her, the location of the building.

"That all? Doesn't seem worth an FBI agent calling me for that. You could have stopped most anyone on the street and they'd have helped you out. I'm guessing there's a part two coming." Deputy McGuigan said. She was an attractive woman for her age although there was a tiredness marking her face. Not physical tiredness, an emotional weariness. 'A loss' Erica guessed to herself.

"Well yes, there is a part two actually." Erica said with a sheepish smile, "Are there any deaths connected to the building? Not back when it was still a home in the 1920's, I mean more recently."

"What's this about exactly? Are you dealing with an open case? A homicide? What's going on here?" It was clear from the look that she gave Erica that Deputy McGuigan was expecting an answer before she offered any further information.

Erica wasn't going to pour out the whole story, not to the Deputy, not yet. She gave her an abridged version, glossing over any serial killer theories, focusing more on the mystery of the message and how she had seen a 'similar' marking in Washington DC. Somewhat satisfied, and to Erica's personal satisfaction, definitely intrigued, the Deputy began to talk.

"Seven years ago, there was a body found up behind the farm house, couple of local kids found it. Nasty business. As I remember it, body was found shot nine times and throat was slit for good measure. Local man, Morris Smith. Anyway, nobody was ever charged, case remains open."

Erica pulled out her notepad and began taking notes feverishly as she probed for more information.

"He was thirty thereabouts... African American... no, he wasn't married... no I don't recall the graffiti or seeing anything like it before or since..."

"So, you say nobody was charged but I get the feeling you had suspicions... that sound right to you?" Erica asked finally, pen poised over paper.

"Smith, he and some of his associates... Well, nothing was proved back then or since, but there were suspicions they were criminals, smuggling is what was thought. Given the brutality of the crime, lot of folks thought it might have been a rival making a point. But as I say, that's pure speculation."

Erica nodded as she wrote.

"What if I wanted to meet up with these associates you talked about. Where would I find them?" As she asked, Erica glanced up from her note taking.

Deputy McGuigan sighed; the tiredness Erica had noted seemed more pronounced.

"I get the feeling that this, it isn't personal but its pretty important to you. So, if I help or not, you are going to go look for them yourself anyway." Erica smiled innocently in response to the Deputy's faultless assessment, she didn't bother denying it. The older woman noted that and continued talking. "I'm on duty right now, I'll pick you up here at 7pm. Take you to where you might meet them, least one of them anyway. You can always kill some time checking out the building while you wait."

Erica headed back to the hotel, the cheery woman at the clerk's desk gave her a friendly wave as she passed through and enquired if she'd be taking her dinner at the hotel that night. Not knowing how long she might be out that evening with the Deputy, Erica opted for an early sitting at the little restaurant in the hotel. Before all that though, she headed up to her room to change. She didn't know how far off the road the farmhouse might be so she threw on a pair of moss grey canvas hiking trousers and a decent pair of hiking boots. A black t shirt completed the look, her hair tied back once more into a ponytail. Erica picked up her backpack, her camera, map and notepad inside it and headed out.

She had little trouble finding the farmhouse. It turned out that there was a rough track leading from the main road right up to it. Erica could tell from the worn tracks, sporadic weeds and clumps of grass growing in them that the track did indeed see some sporadic usage, most likely from the local kids driving up to it.

The building itself was unremarkable. The roof had further deteriorated in the time since the picture had been taken, fully half of it slumped into the shell of the house itself. The windows and doors had long disappeared, the gaping holes where they once were, now boarded up crudely in an effort to keep people from entering the structure.

Erica wandered over the where the graffiti had been. It was faded now but still discernible. She took a few pictures, different angles, different perspectives. Deputy Mcguigan had said that Morris Smith had been found behind the house so she circled around to see what she could.

After seven years there was almost no trace left that someone had died there. Just a scrap of police tape from the crime scene still flapping from an old pipe affixed to wall of the house. She took some pictures regardless, no harm in being thorough. Then she completed her walk around the building before getting back into the car and heading towards the town.

Erica killed the time before her rendezvous with Deputy McGuigan writing up the details she'd gotten from the first meeting and then having an early dinner in the hotel. She threw on a khaki jacket and walked to the diner, reaching it with ten minutes to spare.

Deputy McGuigan was already parked up outside the diner, driving her own car and dressed in civilian clothing. She looked different now that she was out of uniform, more feminine, more relaxed. Her red hair fell loose to her shoulders, a black denim jacket, white shirt and black jeans did have a slight uniformity about them but maybe that was just Erica projecting.

"Thanks again for doing this Deputy." Erica said as she got into the passenger side of the car.

"Arlene, call me Arlene. It's okay, truth is I had nothing planned for the evening anyway and you've got me interested now with your story. Like to help you get some answers if only just to satisfy my own curiosity." she replied starting up the car.

As they drove out of town Arlene gave Erica a heads up on where they were going.

"It's a small bar, few miles north of town. Nothing much, used to be popular with the migrant field hands looking for a drink after work. Lot quieter these days, surprised its still running to be honest, didn't think there was enough trade for it. Owner is a guy called Elias. He was friendly with Morris Smith. You could say they ran together."

"You mean, ran together as in criminals?" Erica was tempted to pull out her note pad but she thought it might seem rude. She could always ask her again if she needed to clarify something.

"You need to get this straight. There is no evidence of any criminal activities by Elias or Morris Smith. Suspicions... yes. Proof... no. It's best you don't go walking into his bar thinking he's some hick bartender though. Treat him like he is a dangerous man, take all due precautions and you won't go wrong. I haven't had much dealings with the man, called out there once or twice a few years back over bar fights but that's about it."

They drove in silence for a couple of minutes and then Erica broached the subject that had been on her mind since she'd met the Deputy that morning.

"Sorry if this seems personal, I mean we just met and all. I just thought there was something on your mind. I wondered if I could help or even just lend and ear?"

Erica saw Arlene's face tighten slightly, in pain though not anger. Then a half smile formed as she answered.

"Well, that's nice of you but no I'm alright or at least there's nothing that you can do." Her thumb played over the wedding band she wore on her left hand. "My husband passed, a few years ago now. Some days, some weeks I just miss him more than most is all. Part of the reason I was happy to come out with you this evening, the house can be lonely at times."

Erica winced at Arlene's loss, she didn't really know what to say, a small sympathetic sound leaving her mouth in lieu of words. She was saved from any more embarrassment as Arlene hit the indicator, pulling off the main road into a rough gravel carpark. There was a solitary SUV parked on the far side, the rest of the small area was empty. The bar itself seemed midsized, the standard neon signs for beer brands burning brightly in the three windows, a slightly faded sign over the door read 'The Tempest Bar and Grill'.

Before Arlene could open her car door Erica turned towards her and began talking rapidly.

"The last time I tried to get information with someone from law enforcement beside me it didn't go well. I know you are off duty but you said yourself that you had some dealings with this Elias in the past. I'd like to go in alone, just get the answers I need and get out as quickly as possible."

Arlene was shaking her head halfway through Erica's sentence but she didn't argue the point either, despite her evident disapproval. After a drawn-out moment she gave a brief nod of assent and Erica began to get out of the car, pausing as the older woman's hand fell onto her shoulder.

"Don't take too long getting your answers. If I don't see you coming back soon then I'm going in after you. Am I clear?"

Erica nodded, smiling her thanks and stepping out of the car. She walked across the car park and raised an arm to open the door. Before her hand could touch the handle, the door opened and she heard a voice from just inside speak.

"My, my, my. Just look at you. Welcome to The Tempest."

Episode Two: 'Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?'

Erica stepped through the door. It was on a spring so it closed softly behind her. The man who spoke was a slightly built black man, he looked to be twenty-two or twenty-three years old. He had a cheerful disposition to match his smile. He was wearing sweats and a slightly grimy grey t shirt that he used to rub his hands on as he backed from the door before turning and walking behind the bar counter.

The inside was as underwhelming as the exterior had been. The interior was lit by faded yellow light. It had the effect of lending the large room a dull faded feeling; gloomy almost. Some intuition caused Erica to assume that this had been done on purpose, as if to turn those not familiar with the place on their heel and back out the door.

A half dozen round wooden table with a clutch of chairs around each were sprinkled through the room. The main focus, outside of the long bar counter was a pool table, slap bang in the middle of the floor. To the left Erica could see the doors leading to the restrooms, to her right was a strange sight. In the corner of the bar, a section had been created to make a barber's station. Some shelves on the wall held a variety of razors, scissors, brushes and an assortment of gels and sprays. There was a plush barber's chair as well. This was currently occupied by a man who was reclined in it, a hot towel covering his face, his pate layered in shaving cream. Beside him stood an older black man, an impressive beer gut hanging over his belt. He was stropping a cut throat razor on a piece of leather, his eyes fixed on his task.

"So, what can I get you?" The question pulled Erica's attention back to the young man behind the bar. She walked over to the counter and slipped onto a stool, letting her eyes travel over the bottles arrayed behind him.

"Umm I'll take a bottle of beer and a shot of scotch" she declared. He raised an eyebrow at her choice.

The beer was cold but the scotch looked cheap. Erica picked up the glass, glad to find it was clean at least and she quaffed it back in a single movement. The bartender grinned at her pained expression, refilling her glass when she tapped it with one finger. Behind her, Erica could hear the barber begin to shave the other man's head. The sound of blade cleaving through bristle was loud in the quiet bar. She took a mouthful from the beer bottle, settling it back onto the counter top. Her fingers played across the surface of the bottle, catching beads of water as they ran down the glass surface.

"So, what brings you here?" the bartender asked, leaning back against a shelf of bottles. Another long stroke of the razor clearing a section of head clean of foam and hair.

"How do you mean?" Erica answered, the sound of blade on flesh coming once more.

"I mean why are you at this bar, with a police escort no less?" asked the bartender, his smile never changing but not quite reaching his eyes now.