In Pieces

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Content Warning: This series includes violence, ritual harm, bullying, and psychological trauma involving teens. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Read carefully. In Antigua Falls, even stories have teeth.

In this episode: When homicide detectives Tom Wallace and Ned Carter arrive to assess a troubling discovery in Thirteen Pines, they expect a hard case. But the scene awaiting them marks the beginning of a case unlike any they’ve taken before.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Interlude

INCIDENT: Suspicious Circumstance / Possible Unattended Death
LOCATION: Red Creek Trail, off County Road 29
TIME: 8:17 AM

Deputies responded to a report from a hiker who located a red shoe and possible human remains approximately half a mile along the Red Creek Trail near the Thirteen Pines area. Deputies secured the scene and requested assistance from the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation (OSBI), who has now assumed the case.

The trail is temporarily closed to the public.
No further information is available at this time.
Anyone with information is encouraged to contact the Sheriff’s Office tip line at (405) 555-0149.

When the call came in that morning, Tom was still hung over from too much whiskey at the Rodeo Inn. He was laying in bed, heart pounding from a dream he couldn’t remember.

The medicine works well kid. You slept like the dead.

He felt like death too. His head was pounding when Marcy from dispatch told him, too loudly it seemed, that Ned Carter was already in route to the scene. Of course he was, and he made sure to tell Marcy that too.

“Tom, play nice,” was all she said

Tom confirmed that he was also in route, hung up and pushed himself into a sitting position. Fucking Ned.

Detective Carter, Tom’s new partner, and a rising star in the homicide field. That’s what his boss said when he introduced him.

“And this is Tom, Big Tom around here. Been with OSBI for ages.”

That was it. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what two decades of police work got you. This is Tom, best cold case detective on the force. No, not anymore. One DUI was all it took to knock him down to the bottom rung. He was starting over, and this rookie all-star he was tied to was proof. It was enough to drive him crazy.

Ned was alright, but easily excited. He was new to homicide by Tom’s standards, and wanted to learn everything he could about the job. That had made Tom chuckle on their first day together.

“You’ll learn alright. Can’t say you’ll like what you find.”

But Ned did like it. He talked endlessly about the psychology of killers, asked what motivated them, read books on criminology in his spare time. That bothered Tom more.

Aside from the young-buck-giddiness that got under Tom’s skin, Ned was a thinly disguised babysitter, partnered with him to ensure Tom wasn’t drinking again. He grimaced, popped four Advils, and hung his head under the bathroom faucet to swallow them down.

He stared at himself in the spit spotted mirror. His face looked puffy and sallow. The lines an wrinkles were drawn unattractively around his mouth, and the skin hung loose at his neck.

“You’ve turned out uglier than rat shit,” he said, then rubbed at his temples.

He breathed hard into his hand, and smelled. Jack Daniels. That wouldn’t do. He grabbed the half-gone jug of aquamarine mouth wash, slung it back, and gurgled for a minute. His eyes didn’t tear up. The sting of antiseptic was nothing compared to what he pounded down after work most nights. As far as Ned knew, Tom was hitting the hay.

Going out to the bar is a mistake Big Tom. Someone’s going to see you.

No. That was just one time, and he didn’t drive home. He was playing by the rules. Mostly.

Now—everything had changed. There was a case. He knew there was.

What was that dream?

The drinking had to stop. He knew what the pounding headache meant. The pain always came before the dream. The dream always came before—

Never mind that.

It was time to get to work. To uncover whatever it was he was supposed to see. Tom held his hands out, palms open to the ceiling, and said a prayer.

***

An hour had passed by the time Tom pulled up to Red Creek Trail. Ned’s red sedan was already there. A thin layer of yellow dust clung to his windshield. Ned was waiting, a foot propped against the bumper, staring at his phone.

He wore a wool trench coat. Strands of blonde hair stood on end whenever the wind blew. They barely covered his bald spot. Tom had that going for him at least. His hair was gray, but still thick. A memory of the night before flashed in his mind. Lights low, pool balls knocking together, and a red head running her hands through his hair at the Rodeo Inn.

Before the headache started.

“Big Tom,” Ned said.

“Detective Wallace,” Tom corrected.

He stepped out of his truck. A gust of wind picked up, and he closed his eyes against the blowing sand. He could hear Ned’s footsteps, quick in the crunching gravel. Tom waited until Ned was in front of him.

“Detective Wallace, I came as soon as I got the call,” Ned said.

He was trying to look somber, but Tom could see the electricity in his blue eyes, the energy wound up in his clenched fists.

“You ever done this before?” Tom asked.

Ned shook his head. “No, but I have studied extensively at the body farms in Tennessee and Colorado. You’d be surprised at how much a humid climate changes the way a body presents in the days and weeks after.”

Tom started walking, and Ned followed, trying to keep up with his pace. Ned wasn’t short by any means, but Tom was a bear of a man. Bear—that was his mom’s nickname for him. By the fifth grade, he was five and a half feet tall, and by the time he found her lifeless body the next year, he was as tall as her.

Five feet, eight inches.

Black hair. Brown eyes.

Victim is female.

29 years old.

Deceased.

Call came in from her son.

Body discovered after he arrived home from school.

Approximately 3:29 p.m.

He could still remember his first crime scene. Sixth grade.

“You need to pay attention as we walk there. Do your best not to disturb anything. A leaf on a tree, a shoe print in the dirt. We start at the remains, but the scene could span miles outside of that radius.”

His head hurt. Ned was nodding violently, looking like a bobble head on a bumpy road. They stopped at the trailhead.

“Ned, I know you’ve trained for this. But this isn’t school. You won’t get extra credit for raising your hand first. I want you to calm your nerves, and pay attention. The evidence we find here is going to take us down a path. If we miss something, we may never find out what happened.”

Tom heard him take a deep breath.

“I’m excited is all,” Ned said.

“Nerves interfere,” said Tom.

Police tape was stretched across two trees, warning walkers that the path was off limits. They identified themselves, and a deputy lifted the yellow shock of caution tape to let Ned and Tom through.

The pounding in Tom’s head didn’t stop until they reached the clearing.

***

A cluster of deputies stood on the perimeter of the scene. Forensics was already roping off the area, laying markers by evidence as they went, little yellow signs that helped with cataloging and collection. A number 1 was placed next to a severed hand.

“That’s what the hiker found,” a voice said from behind Tom and Ned.

They turned to see a middle aged man. He had salt and pepper sideburns, aviators and a black jacket with a silver star on the breast. Sheriff Wilkes. Tom vaguely remembered him from a case years ago, when he was only a deputy. He reached out a hand, and Tom took it, squeezed a little.

“Sheriff, this is my partner Ned Carter.”

Ned held out his hand and smiled a broad, flashy smile.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Well, I wish it was under better circumstances,” said Wilkes.

They all stared at their feet.

“Is the witness still here?” asked Tom, looking around and seeing only uniformed officers and crime scene workers.

“Nah,” Wilkes said, and waved a hand. “Guy’s name is Merl Henderson. Old timer. Lost his wife in January. He wasn’t well after so we sent him home.”

“Did you interview him?” Ned asked.

Wilkes laughed, and the smile revealed a gold canine. He looked at Ned, then back at Tom.

“‘Course we did. This isn’t my first rodeo cowboy,” Wilkes said, drawing out R-O-D-E--O. He winked at Tom.

Tom’s feet shifted. Was Wilkes at the bar?

Play with fire, you’ll get burned.

“We’re going to need his contact information,” said Ned.

Wilkes rolled his shoulders, then clicked his tongue and settled his gaze on Ned. Ned didn’t notice. He was busy surveying the area.

Paying attention.

That was good.

“We think we know who the girl is,” Wilkes said.

“You found the body then?” Tom asked.

Wilkes whistled. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Where?”

“Over in the clearing, where the thirteen pines grow.”

“Should we go?” Ned asked.

Tom put a hand up. “We’ll start from the perimeter, and work our way in.”

They started to make their way to the yellow crime scene tape boundaries set up by the forensics team.

“It’s a shame,” Wilkes called after them. “She was a beautiful girl.”

Tom turned. “You know her?”

“Knew. And yes. It’s a small town, and the girl had hair down to there,” he said, his hand hitting his lower back. “That’s about all I had to go off.”

Wilkes chuckled.

"Did you touch anything?” Tom asked.

“No,” Wilkes said, and the corners of his mouth turned down.

***

Severed hand. No blood. Black substance on fingertips.

Tom knelt down and examined the grass and pine needles around it.

Black substance on grass.

“We’re going to need a soil sample here!” he called out to the forensics team, then stood and continued walking.

No drag marks. This was placed here. Palm turned up.

Like praying. Expecting.

He walked to edge of the clearing and stopped. The trees were enormous, older than the rest of the forest. Were you to lay down in the center of them, you would see a circle of sky carved out by the treetops and branches. He looked down at the ground. There were two large piles with yellow placards set up next to them.

“Is that her?” Ned appeared at his side.

Tom examined him for a moment. Ned would never forget this. You never forgot your first.

Five feet, eight inches.

Black hair. Brown eyes.

Tom nodded, and looked down again.

Dried white plastic on the ground. No, candle wax.

Black substance on dirt and grass.

No blood.

No smell.

No flies.

He and Ned stepped carefully towards it.

Female torso. Drag marks from the north of the clearing. She was placed here.

Ribs cracked open. Chest cavity exposed. Heart missing.

Tom knelt and stared where her heart should be. In its place, there were teeth. Some human. Others not.

Teeth arranged in the chest cavity. One, two, six—-thirteen.

He looked up at the pines around him. The wind picked up, and the tops of them swayed. The sky was clouding over. It looked like it would rain soon.

“We need to process this quickly, before the weather changes,” he said to Ned.

Ned’s face was pale, but his eyes were focused. He was studying the second pile. It was her head.

Head intact. Approximately 3 feet from torso. Eyes open. Facing the sky. Black hair, spread in a circle.

Like a halo.

“You ever seen anything like this?” Ned asked, the nervous excitement from that morning gone.

Tom thought before he answered.

“No. Not like this.”

The dream. If only he hadn’t been drinking, he could remember.

Black substance on neck.

Black substance in eyes.

No blood.

No smell.

No insects.

“It almost looks like something exploded out of her,” Ned said, staring at the torso.

“Like Alien?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, like that,” Ned was nodding seriously. “That was my favorite movie when I was a kid.”

Tom looked at the girl. She had been in the woods for days.

“The killing didn’t happen here,” said Tom.

Dragged. Staged. Offered.

“We need to find out where it did.”

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