Cole: The Mangler: Book 1 (A Phoenix Club Serial thriller)

CHAPTER 4: Three Little Pigs

Sheriff Walt Hodge's alarm went off at five in the morning and by six, he was pulling up outside the small Sheriff's office on Cyprus Street next to Deputy Johnny Elton's rig and Nelly's car. He was a little surprised to see his daughter's car still there, she was usually gone before Walt showed up the next morning. She didn't think her dad knew that she spent the night shifts with Johnny. He knew.

Johnny was a nice, responsible young man and the first one that Walt felt comfortable having date his daughter. But Walt wasn't naïve about the things they did together and appreciated the young couple's attempt to keep him in the dark. The last thing he wanted was details.

Walt left his truck and approached the station, walking through the outer entrance door. He paused outside the main entrance door and knocked. "I'm coming in. I better not see anything a father would find offensive." Walt opened the door and stepped inside.

The office was empty, no Johnny or Nelly.

"What the hell?" he muttered as he crossed the office and went through the door to the holding cells. "Deputy Elton? Nelly? You better not be..." Walt's words died in his throat as he approached the first cell and saw the slaughter. "Jesus..."

Johnny Elton lay on the cell floor, stripped naked and ripped apart. If they'd found him in the woods, Walt's first thought would be an animal attack.

"Nelly..." Walt's pulse went frantic with terror. "Nelly?" Walt hurried along the narrow corridor. "Nelly!" Panic closed his throat, impairing his breath as the cells distorted through his tears. "Nelly, where are you—"

Walt cried out and he recoiled at the scene in the last cell. His back hit the wall on the opposite side of the corridor as a wave of dizziness struck him. Walt managed two steps forward before his legs gave out. His knees cracked against the concrete floor, but he didn't notice the pain... aware only of his daughter's violated, butchered body in the corner of the cell.

• • •

By sunrise, the Jeep had left the sleepy little hamlet far behind as it sped headlong into the unsuspecting heartland of America. In the far back of the vehicle, Jitterbug lay curled up in the fetal position, wrapped in a blanket and fast asleep, caked in the deputy's blood... having sated his appetite for the time being.

In the front, the two older killers rode in silence, not a word passing between them since leaving the Sheriff's office. The driver bore the bloody evidence of lessons not learned, exhibiting no remorse for his sins.

The Mangler squinted when the sun peaked over distant mountaintops and stabbed him in the eyes. "It won't take them long to put two and two together," he spoke for the first time in hours. "We need to dump this rig and get cleaned up. There's blood all through the Jeep." He looked down at his jumpsuit and the driver's guard uniform. "And get new clothes."

The driver stared forward in silence, eyes squinted. The snow had stopped during the night and the freshly fallen powder blinded in the morning sun. "What about the little freak?" he mumbled, nodding at the rearview mirror. "We getting rid of him?"

"I don't know yet."

"He's unpredictable. And that makes him a liability. We should gut him and dump him in the ditch."

The Mangler replied dully, "No more of a liability than you."

The driver tensed up and twisted his head from side to side as if attempting to loosen the tension in his neck. "He could turn on us. He's like a rabid animal."

"We're all animals."

Going silent, the driver kept his eyes on the snowy rural highway ahead.

"Where is he?" The Mangler asked low.