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I Think My Grandfather Might Be A Serial Killer (Part 7)

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The 911 operator wanted me to stay on the line, but I told her I needed to go, that I would be looking out for the patrol cars. Hanging up my phone, I stuffed it back into my pocket and looked again at my grandfather, who still sat silently staring at me.  

“Okay, this is your last chance. For real. They are on their way. You need to tell me what’s going on right now before they get here. We can still fix this…or at least help it. I need to understand what you’ve done.”  

He glanced at the clock up on the wall and then back to me. “It’s better we wait, actually. It shouldn’t take them more than ten minutes to get here, likely less. I wouldn’t get very far in that amount of time, and you need to hear everything for you to understand any of it.” He smiled at me. “We’ll just wait til they’ve left and we can continue if you want.”  

I was confused and frustrated. “Grandpa, if they come here and find that body, they’re going to be taking you when they leave. There won’t be any more storytime. Maybe you need to go with them, if what you’re saying is the truth, but I’m trying to help you. Talk to me before you have to talk to them.”  

He gave a laugh. “I know you’re doing what you think is best, Jason. I appreciate it. If I were in your shoes, I’d probably do the same thing. But don’t worry about me. Everything is going to work out just fine.”
 

I wanted to protest more, but what was the point? Instead I just stood by the counter, my gaze roaming between the window and the floor. I couldn’t look at him anymore. I felt myself feeling more and more guilty and disquieted by his reaction to me calling the police, and I tried to stop second-guessing myself. I had done the reasonable thing after listening to hours of his insanity and I needed to remember that.  

“There they are.” I looked up to see my grandfather looking out the window, and as I followed his gaze I saw three sheriff’s deputy cars pulling up outside. I went to the back door in the kitchen and opened it, calling for them to come around that way. They asked me to step outside and tell them what was going on, which I did, focusing most on the large mustached man who was doing most of the talking.  

“Hey, thank you for coming. I…well, my grandfather, I saw him last night moving a woman’s body out of his car and carrying it into the woods. I talked to him about it this morning, and he was telling me all kinds of crazy stuff. And he admitted to killing that woman. I don’t know what really happened, but I’m worried he’s had some kind of break. He’s close to eighty, and he’s still real sharp, but I…” I broke off as the lead deputy raised his hand.  

“Hold up, son. Is this Dr. Barron we’re talking about? He’s your grandfather?”  

I nodded. “Yeah, he is. He’s…”  

He cut me off again. “Okay, where is he now?”  

I wasn’t sure what to make of his reaction, but I turned and pointed to the house. “He’s in there. I’ve got him tied to a chair in the kitchen.” When I turned back, the two back up deputies had guns drawn on me.  

Deputy Mustache pointed a finger in my face. “You stay here. Anyone else in there with him?”  

I shook my head in stunned silence. Glowering at me, he pulled his own gun and moved towards the door going into the kitchen. The two deputies outside guarded me like I was Hannibal Lecter, their eyes flicking nervously to each other as they waited. After several minutes I heard footsteps and turned to see my grandfather coming out of the house in front of the deputy. He was smiling and talking with the other man in low tones. My stomach clinched as I noticed the deputy had put away his gun. What was going on?  

Mustache gestured to the other two deputies. “You can stow your guns for now, boys, but keep them ready. We’ve still got some things to sort out.” He turned to me, his expression hard. “So your grandfather explained that he gave you a prescription for…” he pulled a brown pill bottle out of his pocket to read the label, “Clonazepam. Just ten pills because you were having a lot of stress and trouble sleeping what with being back at your deceased parents’ home and all. Which is understandable.” He had handed the bottle to my grandfather and now had his thumbs hooked in his gun belt. “What is less understandable is why come you tied him up all morning and are making up these crazy tales.” I started to respond but he raised his hand.
 

“Pard, the less you say right now, the better. You listen instead. Your grandpa is a good man. A respected doctor. Ever since your parents moved to the area, he’s made a point of coming around and helping out this community as he could even though he lives hours away. And that’s good for you,” he said, pointing his finger at me again, “because he’s convinced me to not lock you up today if you act right. He tells me that…what was that word?”  

My grandfather smiled. “Benzodiazepines,” he supplied helpfully.  

Mustache nodded. “Yeah, that. That it can sometimes cause nightmares or hallucinations. Your grandpa believes you had some dream about him hurting someone that you think is real.” He paused, looking hard at me to accentuate his point. “So how does that sound to you? Does that sound better than you just went crazy and tied up him up no reason?”  

I tried to keep myself from yelling. “No! That doesn’t fucking sound good! I haven’t taken any pills. He’s lying.”  

Deputy Mustache shook his head. “Sport, the problem there is I counted the pills and two are missing just like Dr. Barron said there would be. And this prescription is in your name.”  

“So? That doesn’t mean I took them, you idiot! I know what I saw. He carried a woman out into the woods. He admitted to me that he killed her.”  

My grandfather stepped forward and headed off the deputy's angry response. “Look, it might help him accept that it was just the drug if you go ahead and look in the woods. Show him there’s nothing there. I know it’s a hassle, but…”  

Mustache was already nodding and smiling at him. “No, no doctor. It’s fine. You feel up to coming with us?”  

“Sure thing. Jason, you want to lead the way?” My grandfather grinned and tipped me a wink.  

I led the deputies in the direction he had carried the woman, walking as far from my grandfather as I could. I kept imagining him suddenly attacking one of the deputies and getting his gun or bolting off into the woods. But he strolled along, as calm and pleasant as if we were on a midday stroll. I could tell the deputies were barely looking around, but honestly there was little to see. To their credit, they went along with me for close to two hours before I gave up. I don’t think he could have carried her out farther than we went in the time he was gone the night before, and there was no trace of anything.  

As we headed back toward the house, my grandfather was suddenly beside me, patting me on the shoulder with his big, strong hand. I stifled a yelp and tried not to flinch away. Acting more crazy wasn’t going to help anything at this point. “See?” He whispered to me. “I told you it would all be okay.”  

Ten minutes later the deputies were gone after making my grandfather promise he would call them if there was any more trouble. Any more trouble from me, the crazy druggie. As soon as they were out of sight I turned on him.  

“How did you do that with the pills?”  

He looked a little sheepish, his hands in his trouser pockets as he shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. I came up the day before you did. When I went into town, I ran across that woman at a gas station. From that encounter I knew I would be hunting while I was here, so I went ahead and called in the prescription for you on the night voice mail of the pharmacy so it wouldn’t be filled until the day you arrived. When we went by the grocery store, I picked up the prescription and kept it tucked away in case I needed it. After last night, I moved it to a kitchen drawer so it’d be ready.”  

“What? Ready for what? Why did you get the pills in the first place?”  

Now he looked slightly disappointed. “Well, for this…what we just did.” He gestured around to where the deputies had been moments before. “It was a calculated risk that you might see or hear something if I took that woman while we were here, and I needed a way of explaining what you saw if you called the police. A bad dream from a drug side effect seemed a good solution.”  

I began to pace, my fists clenched at my side. “Yeah, so you make me look crazy by planting drugs in the house.”  

“Not crazy, just stressed and taking a legally prescribed medication that didn’t sit well with you. Better than them thinking I’m some kind of serial killer.”  

I stopped, turning to scream at him. “But you are! You are a fucking serial killer! 87 people? What do you think you are?”  

He shook his head. “I don’t think it needs a name really. I look at it like hunting, and the people I hunt hardly deserve to be counted as human. When I kill them, they’re not even entirely human biologically, and they are certainly far removed from any moral or spiritual definition of the word. But serial killer? No, that term carries way too much baggage, and while technically correct in some ways, I think looking at me as a hunter is far more apt.”  

I started to respond but he continued. “Look at it this way. In some parts of the world, sometimes you have a lion or bear go bad. They get a taste for people and they become a threat.” He chuckled. “Well, a bigger threat than a normal lion or bear. So the local people have to get together and hunt the bad animal down. Because that animal is an anomaly. It’s not natural. And by killing it, the people aren’t just saving themselves, they’re restoring balance.”  

He gestured towards the woods where he had carried the woman. “These people I kill…they aren’t really people anymore. There’s a lot more I need to explain to you, but the short answer is they are unnatural, and they are tied to things terrible beyond your wildest dreams.” Looking up at the sky, he took a deep breath. “Jason, I know this is all hard to believe. And I know you don’t know me as well as you should. That’s my fault. I tried to be a good father, but your mother was grown when Rebecca died, and to my shame I was selfish in my grief. I isolated myself much of the time from her and your father, and from you. If I hadn’t, you’d likely trust me more now.”  

He looked back at me, his eyes glistening. “But I was trying to do good. I still am trying to do good, and my hope is you’ll come to see the value in it. If you can be patient and listen to all I have to say and see what I have to show you.”  

I felt so tired. I wanted to believe him, but how could I? I didn’t know what to say anymore. Finally I muttered, “What are you going to show me? Where you hid that poor woman’s body?”  

He shook his head, smiling ruefully. “Oh no. That woman’s body doesn’t exist anymore. Literally. At least not here.” Noticing my confused expression he waved his hand. “Sorry, getting ahead of things. Let me tell you about that woman, but after that, if you’re willing, I need you to go with me on a little trip.”  

The wind was picking up and I suppressed a shiver. “Trip? To where?”
 

The afternoon sun was high in the sky, and shining down through the trees overhead, it left my grandfather dappled in shifting patches of light and shadow. He looked strange in the penumbra, both young and old, menacing and beneficent at the same time. I could see him grinning at me when he spoke.  

“To where I study them.”

---

Credits

 

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