Chapter 1
Saturday 9th March 1957
Inside her dark eyes, he could see death.
Sheriff Hicks was fully awake now. It couldn’t have been more than an hour, since he was peacefully lying in bed. The sun hadn’t yet emerged, when that damn phone call came. His stomach twisted from the first ring. Galena was as tranquil a town as can be. They wouldn’t have called him at the crack of dawn, if it weren’t for something real serious.
All his actions, thereafter, were purely mechanical. Got up, got dressed, got in the car. The city was awfully quiet, as if it knew. As if it was mourning. He drove past the abodes, the shops, the cornfields—until he reached the house.
It was a cottage right outside town. The walls were bone-white, with turquoise doors and windows. The garden was filled with colorful flowers of all kinds that made the air smell delicious. It was a beautiful house—so beautiful, that you couldn’t imagine anything bad happening in it. Yet, appearances are proven to be deceiving.
The girl was lying on the kitchen floor, stiff and soulless. She must have been dead long time, for her skin had gone the color of the walls. Her blood had dried into her clothes. Whoever did this to her, had much spite in his heart. Bruises sprawled across her body. Her left arm was bent wrong; her right limp, with slacked fingers. Only her middle one was outstretched. Like she was saying “Fuck you” to the world. That thought made him grin.
The radio was on, blaring “Come Go With Me” like it was beckoning her to rise.
So come and go with me
Come, come, come, come
Come into my heart
She must have been pretty. Hard to tell now, with her clammy skin and deformed face. They told him she was a starlet— a real famous one too. Sheriff Hicks didn’t like pictures. His wife, on the other hand, had made it her mission to drag him there. One thing he knew though, was that all of them starlets died of the same stuff. And sure enough, scattered all around her, like confetti, were those little red devils. Barbiturates. Hence, the smell of vomit. When he took a transfer from L.A., he never thought he would have to deal with those again.
“Good mornin’, Sheriff.”
“Can’t see why it’s good Haines.”
Please say you’ll never leave me
Well, say you never
Yes, you really never
You never give me a chance
“And for God’s sake, somebody turn of the damn radio!”
“Right away sir!”
Deputy Angus Haines was a tall, dark, awkward boy. Hicks had a liking for him but never let it show.
“Would you look at that mess.”
The kitchen looked like a battlefield—shattered glass, cooking pans, broken plates and her. The Sheriff kneeled to take a better look at the corpse. “My, my! She is just a baby.” he thought “Couldn’t be older than twenty-three— twenty-six tops!” Her eyes were impossibly dark. Though the barbiturates had done their job, relaxing the muscles of her face, her eyes were...restless. That’s what death must look like— he was sure.
“Who did this to her Haines?” he asked.
The boy swallowed hard “Well sir... some neighbors said they’ve seen a man comin’ and goin’.”
“And who is he?” the Sheriff’s patience thinned.
“N— nothin’s sure. Just... speculations. We don’t—”
“Jesus Haines! She didn’t beat herself to a pulp and down a pharmacy for good measure.” he snapped “Who is it?”
The boy turned slowly, a mixture of fear and resignation painted on his face.
“Jim Donovan”
