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Having a full day before me, I climbed out of bed shortly after the sun fully broke the horizon and scampered into the kitchen to eat a quick bowl of cereal and several slices of buttered toast. I lived in a small town bordering a large state park. Although our humble hamlet experienced a surge in population during the busy seasons as tourists flocked into the region, during most of the year the streets were empty. During this time, there were no more than three thousand people left living in town.
With so few people in the region during these times of the year, there were less services available to those of us who actually called this place home. One such service was prescription delivery from the local pharmacy. There was simply not enough business for them to justify paying a driver during the off seasons. Widow Jenson, who lived two houses away from me, was too old and feeble to walk or even drive to the pharmacy, and no shuttle buses ran during this time. Every Wednesday I got up early and went to the grocery store that housed the local drug store and picked up Widow Jenson’s medications for her.
Next on my route was to pick up breakfast from the deli next door which I would drop off with Old Man Greer. Poor Old Man Greer was agoraphobic and absolutely terrified of stepping beyond the outer doorframes of his home. I felt bad for the old guy because he had not left his house in almost two decades. He and his wife were in a tragic car accident, and after suffering in the hospital for almost two months, Mrs. Greer finally passed away. Not long after that Mr. Greer was walking home from the market when he was nearly struck by a pickup truck that ran up onto the sidewalk. Ever since then, the unfortunate gentleman showed his face in public with ever-reducing frequency. Eventually, he became terrified of leaving his house at all.
Some of the locals talked about Old Man Greer as if he were some sort of lunatic, but given what he experienced I could not blame him of being terrified of the outside. I felt bad for the guy, and I did what I could to provide him with the assistance he needed. Once I dropped Mr. Greer’s breakfast off to him, I headed in to my first job.
From eight in the morning until noon I worked unloading trucks into storage warehouses where many of the local businesses kept their products in the off seasons. Regular deliveries to keep up with the seasonal businesses were simply not possible given the remote location of our town and the sheer number of visitors we saw during that time frame. The two largest warehouses were at the far edge of town, but there were several smaller ones behind the buildings on the strip that divided our small town.
Today I was working behind the strip, which worked out best for me on Wednesdays because I had to be at my second job at one thirty in the afternoon. This gave me time to run home, shower, change into my uniform and get to my second job with about ten minutes to spare. While I generally worked in the warehouses five to six days a week, my job at the diner was only on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
By the time I got to my job at the diner, I was already tired from unloading boxes all morning. I did not really have much of a choice if I wanted to keep the house my father left to me. Property taxes here were not too strangling, but the prices of goods and services were high because of an incessant sales tax. Coupled with the fact that with businesses being slow, some of them even closed during the off season, full-time jobs were difficult to come by. Most people I knew of working age worked at least two jobs when the tourists were not in town.
When I stepped into the diner, there were only two customers seated, but it appeared they were still waiting on their meal. The waitress Sharon, the cook and the dish washer were all standing in front of the counter with their gazes fixed on the television. That was when I noticed the customers were doing the same thing. Unsure of what was transpiring, I walked up to my coworkers and asked them what was happening.
“They found those two girls that went missing in the park a couple of months ago,” Sharon told me.
Given the tears in her eyes and the somber look on her face, I did not have to ask if they found the girls alive. I already knew. They were dead. It was not common, but it was not unheard of for hikers to become lost, injured or somehow die an accidental death. I would not think such a report would elicit an emotional response from Sharon like this, so I knew it had to be something much more gruesome.
Preliminary reports indicated the cause of death was strangulation, but the details of the strangulation were particularly disturbing. The killer bound the girls before tying a hemp cord around their necks. The killer then proceeded to slowly wrap the cord tighter and tighter around their necks until he literally dislocated the vertebrae in their necks.
I could not believe what I was seeing. During my lifetime nothing so horrific ever occurred near here. The last murder that happened in our town was almost thirty years ago. We could not fathom something like this happening so close to home.
The young fellow who did the dishes here at the diner and I both even took part in the search for the two young women when they went missing. We never did so together, but both of us liked hiking the park trails and camping in some of the less known scenic sights, so we knew the area quite well.
Some unfortunate hiker came along the bodies of the girls wrapped in canvass tarps two days ago, but the authorities were only now releasing the information to the public. It was sheer luck, or the lack thereof, that the hiker even found them. The man became lost and ended up in a rather rocky and remote area of the park.
Because of the treacherous terrain, the area was generally off limits to the public. The hiker’s dog got loose on him and ran off into the forest. The man chased his pet for nearly an hour before finding it stopped at the two bundles of canvass stuffed in between a grouping of large rocks. Had this chance happening not occurred, the young girls’ fate may never have been known.
Trying to gather my nerves about me, I walked back to the back of the diner, washed my hands, and clocked in. The other cook waited for me to check the line to make sure all the prep work was done before clocking out and heading home to his family.
I told Sharon she should turn off the television and stop dwelling on that for now, but she insisted on watching the news until the report on the two girls was over. Almost robotically, she moved back behind the counter and began working on her side duties as she waited for the next wave of customers to come in for supper. I never saw Sharon act in such a manner, and I knew she was terrified by what she watched on the news only moments ago.
Trying to get Sharon’s mind off the horrifying report, I struck up a conversation about being ready for the tourist season to come back in so I would not have to keep working three jobs. It took me a little coaxing, but I finally got her to talk with me about something else. The season was transitioning into spring. Small green leaves were beginning to fill the branches and the early season perennials were in full bloom. I managed to get Sharon’s mind off the gore she witnessed on television and onto the topic of Spring.
We managed to chat about rather mundane subjects to keep our mind off what we learned watching the news before enough customers began to fill the dining area. It was not a large diner, but it could hold around sixty customers at a time. Normally we would have another waitress from five to eight in the evening, but the girl who used to do that job eloped with her boyfriend several weeks ago leaving us shorthanded.
For the next three hours, there was no time for chatting. I had no problem keeping up with the orders, and Sharon was getting the food out of the window as soon as I put it up there. The dishwasher assisted Sharon with bussing the tables as well as pouring water and coffee for the customers. We might have been shorthanded, but the three of us worked together for so long there was no need for much verbal communication.
It was an intensely busy shift, but we never once fell behind. We were accustomed to this daily rush as many of the single residents got off work and came in for supper. We saw a few families each night, but for the most part all of our evening customers were either single or childless couples. It was a rough three hours, but when it was over, it was over. Generally, once the rush hour customers left, there were very few if any customers to come in after that. Usually when that happened, it was someone getting off work late or some similar situation.
We had the diner cleaned up and ready to shut down as soon as nine o’clock arrived. There were a few things we still had to wrap up that could not be done before closing such as emptying the register and turning off the equipment. I noticed Sharon seemed to be taking longer than normal to get her remaining side work finished, and I was sure it was because she was afraid of walking home.
The next time Sharon came near the kitchen window, I stopped her and asked her if it would make her feel better if I walked her home. I could see her face brighten a bit when I made the offer, and she gladly accepted. It was a bit out of my way, but I did not mind. I spent a lot of time going out of my way for the people of this town, and I was not going to do any less for a friend and co-worker.
Once I got off work the next day from unloading boxes into warehouses, I did not bother to go home and change. My third job consisted of doing yardwork for a local lawn care service, so there was no point in changing out of sweaty clothes only to go and immediately get sweaty and dirty again. Since the rest of the crew began work early in the morning, they were in the middle of their workday when I joined them. I knew which lawns they had each day, so it never took me long to find them.
Although Widow Jensen was not one of our paying customers, I got the owner of the lawncare service to give me permission to mow her yard anyway. She was on a very fixed income, and my boss knew her yard would not get mowed if we did not do it for her. I thought it generous enough for my boss to donate the machinery and gasoline, but he never made me mow the old widow’s lawn while off the clock.
Since my boss was paying me for the work, I always tried to get the job done as quickly and cleanly as I could. That was the way the permanent residents of our town were. Everyone did what they could to help everyone else.
In two weeks to the day of the news of that terrible discovery, I walked in to the diner to begin my shift there to find everyone once again staring at the television. This time when I walked up behind them and asked them what was happening, Sharon turned to face me and threw her arms around my neck. Her eyes were red, puffy and full of tears.
“It’s Molly,” she said. “They found Molly just like those other girls.”
It was hard for me to believe they found Molly dead in another remote area of the park. She left a note with her parents before she ran away with her boyfriend to get married letting them know of her intentions.
If Molly was dead, where was her boyfriend?
I held Sharon tightly as she cried into my shoulder. The two of them were not extremely close, but they were close nonetheless. It was disturbing enough when we found out two tourists were found murdered, but this one hit very close to home. The owner of the diner even called us to tell us to close down for the day. Anyone from this area would understand.
Sharon did not ask me to walk her home since a few days after that first news report, but she pleaded with me not to make her walk home alone. I assured her I would be there with her, and she would not have to walk home by herself. Once we got everything cleaned down and put away, we exited the building and locked the door behind us.
Sharon continued to cry softly, sniffling every now and again, as we walked down the sidewalk together. I wanted to put my arm around her, hold her hand or something to make her feel better, but I was afraid any move like that would make her think I was taking advantage of her grief. At the moment, I was at a deep loss as to what I should do. Although it was not cold out, I took the light jacket I had folded over my arm and placed it over Sharon’s shoulders. I thought that might give her some small measure of comfort without me making physical contact with her.
When we reached her house, Sharon asked me if I would come inside for a little while as she did not want to be alone. Accepting her invitation, I thought it might be nice to have some company for a change. The vast majority of my time not spent working, sleeping or running errands was comprised of me sitting alone at home reading or watching television. If I could help Sharon feel safe in her own home, I rather felt I had the obligation to do so.
The old brick Tudor style home was decorated inside with handmade doilies, crocheted table covers and all sorts of handmade crafts. It reminded me of my grandmother’s house before she passed away more than ten years ago. I found it to be very cozy and comforting at a time when the entire town was distressed.
Sharon started a pot of water boiling on the stove and asked me if I would like some tea. I was not much of a tea drinker, but I did not want to be rude since she already had the water going. I told her I would love a cup of tea and thanked her very much for her hospitality. When the tea kettle began to whistle, Sharon disappeared into the other room. A minute later she called out and asked me if I wanted sugar or cream with my tea. I had it with sugar, but I never had it with cream, so I told her that would be great. One minute later she returned to the living room with a cup and saucer for both of us.
For a few minutes after taking her seat, Sharon and I sat in uncomfortable silence. I was afraid of saying anything because I did not want to make her cry again, but eventually I felt like I had to say something. Trying to avoid the subject of Molly’s tragic death, I began talking about being ready for the tourist season to resume so I could quit at least one of my jobs for the time.
We managed to carry on a casual conversation for half an hour or so before Sharon began crying. I would have moved over to sit beside her, but she was seated in an old, cushioned chair. Sitting my cup of tea on the coffee table resting on the floor between Sharon and me, I asked her if she would like to talk about what happened to our former coworker. Regaining her composure, Sharon nodded her head feebly and murmured a faint ‘um hum.’
Only briefly did we talk about Molly’s death. Instead, we spent the next several hours talking about our fondest memories of her. Sharon knew Molly much longer than I did, but we did work together in the same diner for almost three years. I allowed Sharon to do most of the talking, as regaling her fondest memories of Molly seemed to be making her feel a little better. I wished there was more I could do for my friend, but this was not something Sharon, not something anyone was going to get over quickly.
I noticed Sharon never mentioned the day cook having a crush on Molly, so I wondered if she even knew. The other cook, who was a few years older than me, asked Molly out on a date, but she rejected him. Although she did consider his feelings and let him down the best she could, it took him a long time to get over it. I was not going to mention that now because I did not want to begin stirring up suspicion and paranoia.
It was getting late and the sun already set behind the mountains that decorated the western horizon, and I needed to get home to get some sleep before my job began the next morning. I wanted to offer to stay the night at Sharon’s, but I figured she would ask me if she wanted my company through the night. Since she did not ask, I eventually excused myself so I could go home and get some sleep. Sharon rose from her seat and came over to give me a hug before thanking me for sitting with her during this rough time.
Molly was the topic of conversation for most of my morning shift in the warehouses. People were speculating on who could do such a horrific thing to these young girls. Throughout the morning, I listened to and took part in conversations discussing whether this ghastly act was done by someone who was only in the park for the season or if it was possible a local resident could be doing such a thing.
The number one suspect on everyone’s mind was Molly’s boyfriend with whom she supposedly ran off with and married. No one saw him after he and Molly both left town, and most people thought they would return after some amount of time passed. I did not think anyone was expecting things to turn out like this.
The sheriff only had six full time deupties, so he asked the community for volunteers to help search the forest near where the other bodies were found. It was his belief that we were going to find the body of Molly’s boyfriend out there somewhere. Despite what most of the locals thought, the sheriff did not think that young man was their killer. He was sure the young man everyone suspected was a victim too.
For the next week, volunteers helped search and rescue personnel scour the area for any sign of the young man. Cadaver dogs were brought in by the state police to assist in the search. I got the day cook at the diner to take over one of my night shifts, and I spent three days taking part in the search. My familiarity with the region made me an asset when it came to looking for lost people.
The first and second days I assisted, I was with two other people not from around here, thus they needed to be with someone who was. On the third day, the number of volunteers dropped fairly significantly, so I ended up searching that day by myself. That was fine with me because the others did not do much other than slow me down. I could cover much more ground if I did not have to worry about someone unfamiliar with the forest and the rocky terrain.
Unfortunately, after an entire week of searching, nothing else was found. Thank goodness no other bodies were found, but that did not mean there were not still more out there. It was a large park, and our town was at the edge of the mountains. There were plenty of places out there where someone could hide a body and it never be found. That was why a lot of the locals did not think it was someone from here. Someone familiar enough with the terrain could hide a body so that it would never be found.
The news media began calling the killer ‘the South Point Strangler’ after the area in which the first two bodies were found. With only two more weeks before the tourist season began, the people of my small town began to worry that all this bad news coverage was going to destroy the seasonal economy on which we depended so desperately.
The town continued to get ready for the busy season hoping we would see the influx of people that we saw every year around this time. Some tourists already began to arrive, and the hotels were reporting typical room reservations, so we held out hope that the South Point Strangler was a tourist from last season who would never return.
As the next few weeks progressed, we saw business return to the area like we did every year at this time, so it did not appear the news of the three deaths deterred anyone from taking their annual vacations. I continued to work as the evening cook at the diner and in the mornings working at the warehouses, but I took a break from my job in the lawn care industry for the season. I always got more hours at the diner during the busy season, and the job at the warehouse paid the best. This was nothing unusual, and the owner of the lawn care service knew to expect this.
Just when everyone thought things returned to normal, some hikers made another gruesome discovery. This sent shockwaves through our community as we tried to downplay the seriousness of the situation to the outsiders. More bodies meant the killer returned or never left. If the latter case was true, then it was probably someone inside our tight knit community. The idea it could be someone from town killing these young ladies caused paranoia to spread amongst the residents. People began to suspect anyone and everyone they did not know well.
Unlike the previous bodies found, which underwent significant decomposition, these girls were not dead for more than a week. The sheriff hoped to find some evidence as to the identity of the killer with these girls that was lost because of the condition of the other bodies. Examiners from the Federal Bureau of Investigation arrived to help with the autopsies and to search the bodies for any clue that might lead them to the killer.
After the discovery of Molly’s corpse, Sharon had me walk her home each night after we got off work at the diner. When things began to appear as if they would return to normal, I eventually stopped escorting my friend since it was a bit out of my way. Now, with the discovery of three more bodies, I did not want Sharon walking home alone. As before, she was more than happy to have the extra protection as she walked from one end of our small town to the other.
The truth was that I enjoyed walking Sharon home from work. We worked together for nearly five years, but recently I began to have feelings for her. I made me feel good to know she felt safer with me around, and I was always looking for that chance to tell her how I felt about her. Every night I walked her home I ended up wimping out and allowing her to give me a friendly peck on the cheek before she went inside.
Even though it was summertime, the nights here could still get cold. With the elevation of the town, and being in the foothills of the mountains, it could still get rather chilly at night. Anyone from this region knew to carry a light jacket with them if they were going to be out late into the night or early morning. Since the diner closed much later during the busy season, it was usually approaching midnight by the time we locked the place down for the night.
Finally, one Friday evening I mustered the courage to tell Sharon how I felt. As I was walking her from work to her beautiful home, I opened up and told her I harbored feelings for her that went beyond our initial friendship. I was elated to find out she felt the same way about me, and she was waiting for me to say something to her that let her know I felt the same way about her as she did about me.
We held hands for the rest of the walk, and when we got to her house instead of giving me a peck on the cheek, she invited me to stay over for the night. My heart leapt into my throat and I was unable to say anything for a moment. Finally, I managed to tell her I would be happy to keep her company for the night. Still holding onto my hand, Sharon escorted me into her house. I shut the door as she turned on the lights, then we turned to face each other.
Feeling elated and terrified at the same time, I stepped forward and put my arms around Sharon’s shoulders. As I leaned in for a kiss, she closed her eyes and tilted her head. We kissed gently at first, but it turned into a kiss of passion very quickly. Eventually, Sharon pulled away from me a few inches and asked me if I would like to go upstairs. I was afraid I seemed too eager when I told her yes, I would like to go upstairs, but she did not seem to think so. If she did, she did not let on about it. Instead, she continued to hold my hand and led me upstairs to her bedroom.
We continued kissing as we helped each other undress. When we were both down to our undergarments, Sharon tugged at my arm as she led me to the bed. Suddenly, she let go of my hand and fell back on her bed crying. She acted as if she just saw the devil himself.
I looked at her in confusion, not understanding what threw her into sudden hysterics. That was when I looked down and saw the multiple rope burns crisscrossing the skin on the underside of my right arm.
“You,” Sharon said through her tears, “you are the strangler, aren’t you?”
As I reached down and retrieved a ball of hemp twine out of my jacket pocket, I looked to her and said, “Yes, I am.”
Sharon pleaded for her life as I stepped toward her with the ball of twine in hand.
“I really liked you,” I told her calmly, “We really could have had a future together, but you had to go and figure it out.”
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