Haunted

XI

The next morning I decided to go into town of my own accord, much to Grace's surprise. I was admittedly intrigued by this small town.

Now, most of that interest came from the recent resurgence of another serial killer (what are the chances?) and the emergence of someone different, like me, who saw things that most people would never believe. I deduced that finding out all this town had to offer was in my best interest.

Of course, as soon as I walked into town I saw something that caught my attention.

In the middle of town, there was a huge crowd. Not to mention a firetruck and countless police. I did the logical thing and followed the lead of everyone else, trying to see what was going on.

The closer I got, the bigger the hole in my stomach was. I had a sinking suspicion of what was in front of that crowd, and I wasn't looking forward to it. Why else would basically every officer in the county be here at seven in the morning?

When I got to the edge of the crowd, I stopped. You could see the body from here. Heck, if I had looked to the sky earlier I probably would've seen it from a few streets away. The body, I think it might have been a guy, was attached to the top of the flagpole that jutted out vertically from the post office. It was arguably the tallest point in the town excluding the surrounding mountains. From the ground, I couldn't make out any features, only what must've been dark hair and dark skin.

And, if I squinted, I could make out a smudge on the right hand. I would bet anything it was a number four.

It looked like the police were doing everything that they could to take down the body from the pole before more people came. The firetruck was there to use their ladder to reach up to the top of the pole, but it looked like there was an argument going on with the crime scene techs brought on from the bigger county next door.

The first rule of crime scene investigation was to not move the body or disturb the crime until the techs got all of the evidence they needed, but the obvious concern of the officers was the fact that there was a body hanging at the highest point in the city while everyone could see it. They were trying to back up the crowd as well, but with the body still up there, it was a fruitless effort. People came flocking for interesting news.

And that's when I saw Amanda's mom.

"This is Rachel Porter reporting from the town square in our little town. This morning we were alerted to a 911 call that depicted a body hanging on the flagpole on the top of the post office. Ever since early light, officers have been trying to remove the body from the flagpole before more citizens are faced with the sight. It is unclear yet whether or not the body has anything to do with the Black Lives Matter protests in nearby Colorado Springs."

I watched Ms. Porter with curiosity. She was back to reporting so soon after her daughter's death, and she was coincidently reporting on a body that was most likely killed by the same person as her daughter, not by some protesters. If there was a number on his hand, it would be confirmed.

The idea came to me suddenly. Amanda's mother was a reporter, meaning she probably already heard the news of a possible serial killer in town, but was being blocked by the sheriff until it was confirmed. So, she had probably guessed that the body was a part of many. Who in this town benefitted from another serial killer? Maybe the reporter who desperately missed the limelight she had gotten with the King of Terror murders.

I felt bad for even thinking of Ms. Porter as one of the suspects, but it was a viable conclusion. Not to mention that with the death of her own daughter, she was almost immediately crossed off of the suspect list by most investigators.