Pressley Taylor pulled the stack of bound papers from her grandmother’s trunk. She couldn’t believe she’d found the notes about the murders from over seventy years ago. More surprising was the wooden box inside the trunk that held a small pistol. She’d heard stories, knew her grandmother had tried finding out who had killed her friend, but Pressley didn’t really think the notes had been kept. It surprised her more to know her sweet grandmother carried a weapon. It always seemed like an urban legend to her. Grandma was incapable of going after a cold-blooded serial killer as a young woman.
Clutching the papers to her chest, she headed down the stairs of the house she’d inherited. At the dining table where she’d shared many holiday meals, she sat down and started at the beginning, doing her best to decipher her grandmother’s scrawling cursive. She booted up her laptop and started typing the notes for easier reading.
February 22, 1946
“Come on, Jean. We’ve dated for a while. Stop stringing me along.” Danny Harrison put his arm around Jean Daley in hopes of stealing a kiss. “Why do you think I drove all the way out here?”
She placed both hands against his chest and shoved him away. “I’m not that kind of girl.” The smile on her face said otherwise, giving him hope.
A twig snapped outside. Her smile faded and her eyes widened. “Did you hear that?”
“Just the sound of my heart beating.” He turned her to face him.
“Something’s out there,” she whispered.
He groaned and pulled away. “You’re killing me here.” He reached for the key in the ignition. “I might as well take you home if all you’re going to do is tease.”
The hood of the car slammed up, then down. A large man wearing tan pants, a baggy work shirt, and a pillowcase over his head with holes cut for the eyes, dangled cords in front of the window.
Jean screamed, fumbling for the lock on the door. “Drive, Danny!”
He turned the key over and over to no avail. “Just give him what he wants.” He dug for his wallet, tossing it out the window before rolling the window up and locking the door.
Jean’s screams vibrated in the car. Fear struck her senseless.
The masked man bent and peered through the window, tapping the glass with a thick stick. His eyes glittered in the light of the midnight moon. He raised his arm and slammed the wood hard against the windshield again and again. Jean shrieked with each hit, pressing her back against the seat.
The glass shattered. He reached inside and grabbed Danny by the shirt, pulling him across the jagged shards and across the hood, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Then he turned toward her and put his finger to his mouth, which only caused Jean to shriek louder. “I don’t want to kill you, so do as I say.”
He dropped the stick and pulled a gun from his pocket, smashing the weapon multiple times over Danny’s head and shoulders until the young man lay limp. Jean fought to open her door. When she succeeded, she fell to the ground, then scrambled for the woods.
A hand gripped her hair and yanked her back, dragging her toward Danny’s body. The attacker left her a limp heap beside her boyfriend.
“Please, don’t hurt me.” Tears blurred her vision. Her gaze locked on the gun swinging toward her head.
She woke, her body battered and bleeding. Gripping the grass around her, she painfully dragged herself away from Danny’s body. Her assailant watched from the edge of the trees, telling her to run. Sobbing, she struggled to her feet and staggered away.
A car sat at the end of the road. “Help me.” She limped forward and froze as the masked man stepped in front of her.
“Why are you running?”
“You told me to.” Her voice shook.
“Liar.” He backhanded her, knocking her to the ground.
Darkness overcame her again. When she opened her eyes the second time, the man and the car were gone. Jean raced down the road.
A farmhouse shone like a mirage in front of her. Sobs choking her, Jean pounded on the door until a man in a bathrobe answered. “Help me.” She collapsed at his feet.
Present Day
Pressley didn’t think she’d sleep easy that night. She glanced at a yellowed copy of the Texarkana Gazette stuck in among her grandmother’s notes. “Sex Maniac Hunted.” She flipped through the pages of notes. Where did it say Jean Daley had been assaulted?
Had the town dealt with not only a serial killer but a rapist? Not finding the answer to her question, she stood and placed her hands on her lower back. She leaned backward, sighing at the loosening pops of her spine.
Organizing these notes would take some time. Pressley couldn’t consider heading to Texarkana to investigate until any facts she found were in order. It would be a wild goose chase otherwise, and she’d receive no help from the local police unless she had solid information to give them.
Pressley couldn’t take too long, though. Her job had only given her three months to get her grandmother’s affairs in order. She planned on two weeks to go through the notes and formulate a plan to finish what Grandma had started. Could she do that in such a short time? Why not just quit her job and write that book she’d been thinking about? Grandma had left her a nice inheritance. She could take as long as needed.
She rolled her shoulders and poured herself a glass of wine. Hopefully, it would help clear the vision of the attack by the Phantom, the name given the killer by newspapers, so she could sleep.
His first two victims had survived their terrifying ordeal. History informed her those that followed wouldn’t be as lucky, one of them being Grandma’s friend. Still, Pressley didn’t think she would’ve summoned the bravery needed to discover a killer’s identity at the young age of twenty as Grandma had. Yet again, Pressley inherited some of that same backbone or she wouldn’t be digging into the murders at the age of twenty-five.
Having grown up on Grandma’s stories from childhood on, Pressley had always wanted to find out what really happened. During the reading of Grandma’s will, the lawyer had said that Pressley would find what she needed in an old trunk in the attic and that Grandma’s dying wish was that her granddaughter pick up where she’d left off.
Pressley smiled. She’d found it all right, and it was a doozy. Excitement coursed through her along with the drink. What if she succeeded where local law enforcement and Texas Rangers hadn’t? Imagine the book she could write!
Before she could change her mind, she booked a room in a local bed and breakfast in Texarkana. Pressley might as well leave as soon as possible and continue her research where it had all happened. She didn’t have much reason to stay in Applewood anyway.
- Publisher : Winged Publications
- Publication date : November 8, 2020
- Language : English
- Print length : 233 pages
- ISBN-10 : 1952661366
- ISBN-13 : 978-1952661365