The Plan

Chapter 8

December 1996 (2:20am)

She heard their cries. The same cries she heard hours ago.

Memories…a lot of memories.

She closed her eyes despite seeing nothing inside the closet full of cleaning equipment. She closed them because she didn’t want to cry anymore.

Her feeble body froze in alarm when the sirens arrived.

HELP! She cried silently.

As the sirens drew closer and louder, she realized the cries have stopped. Dead silence now reigned around the big house.

Dead.

She knew they’re dead. The sirens were too late.

Hide.

Yes, she had to keep hiding. He must be gone by now, but she had to hide.

Hide…

 

March 25, 2011 (1:00pm)

“Phoebe, darling,” a crispy voice said behind her.

She turned around to face Mrs. Keaton, a senior volunteer.

“Would you help me put these sheets at the boys’ room?”

“Of course!” she took the sheets from the middle-aged woman and walked with her upstairs.

“Have you heard about the murders? I’m so sad to know Mr. Finn died in such a manner! How horrible! He’s such a good man; made a lot of donations for this place.”

She just nodded.

“These killings make me scared, you know,” Mrs. Keaton admitted.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Keaton, you’re such an angel no one would dare to touch you,” she assured her with her gentle voice.

“No, my dear, you are the angel. Look what you’ve done to help this place!”

“It’s only right to return the favor,” she waved off the compliment.

“How’s your business doing?” asked the lady as they walked into the boy’s room.

“Oh, you know, same old same old,” she answered. Aside from her deep dark secret, she’s just as normal as everyone. That’s one little secret: to belong and not be noticed.

“It’s funny they named the killer the green-eyed killer. You got green eyes,” Mrs. Keaton joked.

She laughed, “Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot since the news got out.”

(3:00pm)

“Spill,” Sean ordered the man.

“I looked into everything you’ve asked for. These are the stuff I dug of the three victims. You’re in for a surprise there. I checked everything from insurance, credit cards, debts, and you’re right. These guys are somehow connected.”

Sean opened the folder as the man talked. “And the girl?”

The man frowned. “That’s the thing. She’s too clean if that’s what you’re asking. She owns a small bookstore where she gets her income. She volunteers at St. Catherine Orphanage. She has friends, no family. Actually, she was an orphan there herself.”

He glanced up in surprise. “She was an orphan at St. Catherine?”

“Yes. They took her in during the summer of 1997. Got out at eighteen, made her way through college, she must have saved enough money for her bookstore and there she is now. She’s clean,” the man reiterated the last two words.

“What about the three victims?” he asked.

“Now, these three are interesting,” the man smiled excitedly. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Ken Cooper.”

“Okay, now, before he worked as a bouncer at the strip club, he was one of Senator Stuart’s bodyguards from 1990 to 1996. The Senator’s wife, Georgia, was murdered in 1996 and after the trial leading to the conviction of the murderer, Cooper resigned and started working as a bouncer from one club to another until his age gave him away. That’s why he went from VIP clubs to strip clubs.”

This was getting interesting, alright. He waited for the man to continue.

“Now, on to the next victim Attorney Jeffrey Halloway. Before he became a lawyer he worked as a paralegal for Judge Simons who was by then the attorney working on the murder of Georgia Stuart. Now, for your friend Bill Finn…” the man leaned forward and took out some papers from the folder, “before he was your friend the millionaire, he was a striving businessman. He,” he pointed at one side of the paper, “was one of the jury during the trial in 1996. Actually, he was leading the jury.”

“This is crazy,” Sean said in disbelief. “They’re really connected.”

“Uh-huh,” his private investigator nodded, “They don’t know eachother, but one moment in their lives they got together inside the same courtroom.”

“What happened in that trial?”

“That’s something I have to dig up deeper, I guess,” the man said, shrugging.

Sean was now in deep thoughts. “The killer must know these men. Somehow they all did something back in 1996.”

“I agree.”

“I want to know more about the other people involved in this case—including the defendant’s side.”

“Sure, that won’t be too difficult.” The man got up and shook his hand. “I’ll call you if I get something.”

“Thank you. This was fast,” he waved the folder in his hand.

“It’s chicken,” he tipped off his hat and left.

1996…

Sean knew this was too much of a coincidence.

(4:00pm)

Cold sweat was now forming in his temple. Two days ago, he was so sure these killings have got nothing to do with what happened in 1996. But right now, he’s not so sure anymore.

Somehow, someone knew what happened.

The green-eyed killer. He had to find out more before his turn came up.

He took a deep breath. He had a meeting in thirty minutes.

But despite himself, only one thing lingers in his mind at the moment: Who is she?