Page 47 of Whisper Through the Pines

“You don’t understand.” Kitteridge stared at her, his eyes changing into the psychopath. “I was just a kid and he took me. No one came to save me. No one believed me.”

“That was a long time ago, so why now, and why kill the others?” Kane leaned forward with his hands clasped on the table. “Take us through it.”

Jenna understood Kane wanted to know what had triggered him. She watched Kitteridge closely as his inner turmoil ebbed and flowed. From his bleak fixed-eyes expression, he didn’t want to live through that moment, but she needed to know. “You said no one believed you. How old were you when you reported it?”

“Nine.” Kitteridge’s fingers twisted together. “My pa gave me a beating and told me to stop lying.” He shook his head slowly. “I figured Durnell left town after that, but he might have returned when I went away to college. I never saw him again until recently, when he delivered wood to the Haunted House.”

“So, what did you do?” Kane looked at him. “You’re a man now. Why not confront him and beat him down, rather than kill innocent people?”

“The moment I laid eyes on him, it all came back in a rush. It was like it was happening all over again, and I wanted him to die.” Kitteridge’s hands balled into fists. “I wanted to make sure he was dead. People never survive decapitation. I figured it would be easy to make people believe it was Halloween myths coming alive.” His lips twitched up in the corners. “I know how to scare people. No one would come looking for me.” He turned to stare at Jenna. “I sure scared you, didn’t I?” His eyes turned cold. “You came this close.” He held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart, sliding the chain through the ring on the table.

A cold chill slid down Jenna’s spine. “Are you telling me that the other six people you murdered were just practice?”

“The first two, maybe.” Kitteridge lifted his chin and stared at her. “It was like it wasn’t me. As if I were acting out the Axman story for the Haunted House. It didn’t seem real.”

Watching him closely, Jenna could see nothing in his body language, no empathy. As if before her was an empty vessel, devoid of emotion. “What made you choose them?”

“I didn’t choose them.” Kitteridge shook his head slowly. “Don’t you understand? They came to me. Only men like Durnell chase after kids in the forest.”

“Why the black candles?” Kane made a few notes. “How did they fit into your fantasy?”

“It’s Halloween.” Kitteridge smiled. “They looked like jack-o’-lanterns.”

Glancing down at her list of questions, Jenna pushed away the images of the severed heads and swallowed hard. “You went to a lot of trouble to set up the illusions. They appeared very real. What was your reason for doing this? How did this get you closer to Durnell?”

“I needed to practice and who better to practice on than men just like him.” Kitteridge shrugged as if it were a normal thing to do. “They hunted down little kids and walked right into my trap. The world is a better place without them.”

The mind of a psychopath never surprised Jenna, and it seemed Kitteridge truly believed that anyone who followed a kid into the forest was a predator and deserved to die. She stared at him. “Some people might believe the child is lost and need help. Not everyone has bad intentions.”

“That’s what you think.” Kitteridge wiped a hand across his mouth as if trying to remove a bad taste. “I know better.”

“How did you lure Durnell into your trap?” Kane’s face had turned to granite.

“He came by to deliver more wood.” Kitteridge smiled to himself as if recalling the moment. “I’d found out he lived in the forest, so I asked him if he’d seen the kid hiding in the woods. He asked so many questions and was almost drooling.”

The faraway look came back in Kitteridge’s eyes and Jenna tapped her pen on the metal table to get his attention. “So how did you set him up?”

“Oh, he wanted to go there right away, but I told him I couldn’t tell him the exact place. I’d need to show him.” Kitteridge opened his hands wide as if demonstrating how easily he manipulated Durnell. “I told him I’d seen this kid around the same time each night as I headed home. This gave me time to set up the illusion and the fog machine. It doesn’t take too long, and I had everything I needed. Working here means the equipment is on hand. I just needed to borrow it for a few hours.”

“Go on.” Kane hadn’t moved a muscle, as if waiting for a reveal he hadn’t expected. “He didn’t figure that was strange?”

“Ah, now there’s the cop talking.” Kitteridge tapped his index finger on the metal desk. “You don’t understand what motivates a predator like Durnell and how his mind works. He doesn’t consider why or how. All he sees is a vulnerable kid ready for the taking. It eats at his mind. Most of them are opportunists. They see a kid alone and grab them. Some stalk them for weeks and wait for their chance; others befriend them.”

Frowning, Jenna made a note about his knowledge of a child predator. “So you set him up and then what.”

“I told him to meet me at the welcome to black rock falls road sign.” Kitteridge’s eyes flashed as memories surfaced. “He’d parked alongside the road. I pointed out where I’d seen the kid and then drove away. I headed along Stanton and parked where no one could see me. I walked back and waited. I’d set up a motion sensor and I had a trail cam to check his position. I did exactly what he did to me. I was lost in the forest, but he’d seen me and called out, but I was too scared to go near him. Then it got dark. I followed a trail to find my way back to the highway and he pounced on me from behind. I did the same thing.”

“Can I ask a question?” Jo’s voice came from the laptop. “Do you recall your reactions to killing the men in the forest and the men in the cabin?”

“Yeah, happiness. I laughed at their pathetic heads all lit up like jack-o’-lanterns.” Kitteridge smiled at her. “I knew I could kill in one blow and they could never come back.”

“And Durnell?” Jo cleared her throat. “Why did that one upset you?”

“Upset me?” Kitteridge shook his head. “I wasn’t upset. I was relieved. That man’s face has haunted me for years. Finally, I know he can never hurt anyone again. It wasn’t remorse; it was tears of joy. I’ll never regret killing him, or any of them. I wanted them dead.” He swung his gaze to Jenna. “Put me in prison with the predators and there won’t be any left—I’ll kill them all.”

Forty-Three

Friday