When the Grinch comes to you
When they approached the house in which the murder had been committed, Shawn could feel the pressure. It lay all over the place. Everybody was silent. The police officers as well as the forensic guys. They all felt the shadow that lay over this case. Sure it was always depressing to work on a murder around Christmas time, but this was even worse than that. This was no ordinary murder. None of them was.
Halfway on the way between the crime scene tape and the front door of the house, Shawn felt a hand on his arm, that stopped him in his tracks. He turned around and looked into the pale face of his friend Gus. In this moment the word pale was absolutely no joke. He looked awful, as if he was close to get really sick. It wasn´t just the simple fact that a human being had lost his life in there. This was something they all were used to see. But this series of murders was something worse than that.
„I can´t." Gus told him with a choked voice. „Sorry, Shawn but …"
„Its all right." Shawn replied and this time he really meant it.
He could understand his friend´s reluctance to see what was in there. They had seen the other victims and it had been almost more than even Shawn could stand. Gus stomach was much less strong and when even some of the forensic people had had to vomit, how could someone except a guy like Gus to enter a house that contained a body, that was left behind by the Chimney killer. That was the name the newspapers had given this sick bastard. It was unbelievable how much attention something as cruel as this could get especially around the holidays. The holiday that should be dedicated to love. This year it was dedicated to blood and slaughter.
Shawn reached the doorstep of the house. He stopped for a moment. He knew it probably was a mistake to stop. It gave him time to reconsider his determination to enter and face it. But he just needed to take a breath before he actually could do it. He had gotten used to a lot over the years but this guy had raised murder to a new level. Considering this it was almost a miracle that Gus still came even close to the houses with him and didn´t just refuse to come in the first place. But of course Shawn knew why he still came. Because he wanted to help. To do everything he could no matter how less it was, to help catching this murderer – and keeping another poor sole from being slaughtered.
It had started two weeks ago and this guy had already killed four times. Each victim worse than the former. Each victim found in front of the chimney, covered in blood and dust from the fireplace. As if the murderer had come through the chimney. Like a bloody Santa Clause. The papers had written the most unbelievable horrorstories about the crime scenes, some of them worth an award in creative writing. But all this stories came down to one catharsis. The victims had been murdered cruel and bestial. And the murderer was still on the loose.
Shawn was about to enter the house when Juliet came out. She looked as pale as almost everybody who was around. When she saw him her eyes lit up but just for a moment. They immediately switched back to that sad and shocked expression she had worn when she had stepped out of the door.
„That bad?" Shawn asked her.
„Worse." she answered. „Shawn. Its a boy. He was eight years old."
Shawn felt his guts drop down to the deepest point. So far the victims had been adults. Two women, one middle aged and a younger stay home mom, and an old man. The youngest had been a nineteen year old student who had been home for vacation. But an eight year old kid. Shawn threw a glance through the door into the living room. Lassiter was standing there. So far the sofa was in the way and blocked Shawn´s vision to what was lying on the floor, but he saw the detective´s expression. It wasn´t pretty. As if he had felt Shawn´s gaze on him, Lassiter turned around and their eyes met. Now Shawn knew that it wasn´t pretty. Lassiter looked as sick as all the others and that was more than Shawn needed to know. He could see in Lassiter´s eyes how much he hated it to be in this house. How much he hated what he saw.
„I´ll go and check the exterior of the house." Juliet said. She sounded apologetic, the same way Gus had sounded when he had told him he couldn´t go closer. Shawn nodded understanding and she almost broke into tears. He pulled her in and hugged her. She hugged him back almost fiercely and this told him that she had really really needed this. When he released her again, she looked a little better. She nodded as if to say: I can handle this alone from here.
He watched her walking down the path for a moment. She reached Gus and they spoke a few words. She must have told him who the victim was, because a second later Gus was the one who started to cry and she was the one who had to help out with a hug. If the circumstances had been different Shawn would have gotten the giggles over this picture. Jules holding Gus and wagging him like a crying child. But the circumstances were too serious for giggles.
He turned around and prepared himself to enter the house. And then he did. Lassiter was already waiting for him. Shawn had thought he had steeled himself against whatever he would see, but when he rounded the sofa and his eyes caught the body that lay in front of the chimney he almost lost the ground beneath his feet. The sight was so cruel and disturbing that he actually swayed and probably would have fallen if Lassiter hadn´t lend him a hand.
„Easy." the detective said. „Take your time."
Shawn gasped. He wanted to look away but he couldn´t. In this moment it was good that Lassiter was still holding him, otherwise he might have fallen down without noticing it before he actually hit the ground.
„Spencer." he heard the detective´s voice calling him.
The hand on his arm shook him and Shawn realized that Lassiter had already addressed him several times. Finally he could look away from the distorted body and into the eyes of Lassiter. The usually so stern blue eyes of the older man were filled with empathy now. They were asking him if he was all right. Shawn managed it to nod and gave Lassiter´s arm a grateful squeeze. The detective nodded back at him and carefully released Shawn´s arm. He managed it to stand on his own.
„The victims name was Jimmy Anderson." Lassiter told him after another moment. „Eight years old." His voice was low and quiet. Even the great head detective Carlton Lassiter was no robot that was immune against a scene as terrible as this. „The parents woke up from the scream." he went on. „When they came down, barely a minute later, everything was over. No signs of forced entry, no … tracks that would tell us where the killer went."
„The chimney?" Shawn asked toneless.
„Closed." Lassiter said. „Its not even in use. So even if it could be anything about this theory of the papers that the killer truly came through there …" he pointed up the chimney. „In this case it was impossible."
Shawn just shook his head. „It doesn´t make any sense." he said.
„What else is new?" Lassiter replied. They stood there in silence for a moment, just looking down on the dead boy. At last Lassiter shook his head. „If we don´t get something very soon, Spencer, I swear to you I go postal on something. We have absolutely no lead and this bastard just keeps killing. In the name of sweet lady justice, give me something to catch that guy. I want him in a cell or dead, Spencer, so help me god."
„Me too, Lassie." Shawn agreed.
„Then help me. Tell me how he gets into the houses without braking the door or a window. Tell me how he kills his victims so fast and … so brutal and how he can escape within seconds without being seen or heard. How is he doing it? Even at night someone would notice a guy that runs around all bloody, carrying body parts with him."
„I don´t know." was all the answer Shawn was able to give.
„I can´t accept that." Lassiter snapped. „There must be something. Go on. Do whatever it is you do and tell me what I want to know. Because I´m not willing to accept this outrageous idea of a monster that comes down the chimneys to eat people."
„You must admit that is the most convincing theory so far." Shawn joked but there was no humor in his voice. Reluctantly he added: „After all there was a mark."
Lassiter growled. „This was at the third crime scene." he recalled. „After the papers had started to write about this ridiculous ideas. He read it and left this to fool us."
„You sure about this?" Shawn asked.
„Spencer, you can´t be serious about this. I totally agree that whoever did this was a monster. But it is a monster in human form and I want to take him down. So you can either help me doing this or you can leave."
Shawn took another deep breath. Then he looked all over the place, trying to focus. He wanted to help.
...
It was eight o´clock in the evening. The dinner was long over and the only sound in the house was the TV that showed the maybe hundredth rerun of a cartoon about the Grinch trying to steal Christmas. The tone was quiet. No need for higher volume. Shawn knew the little piece by heart anyway. Usually he would enjoy to watch it now, especially since he spent the Christmas eve at his dad´s where he had spent it all his childhood long. He had already watched this cartoon back then and watching it again brought the old feeling back every time. But not today. His thoughts were still in another house. A house where tonight no one would enjoy Christmas eve. A house where the little kid that had lived there, would never ever be able to enjoy Christmas eve.
He really had tried. He had tried to find something. Something that the forensic guys had overlooked. A spot, a piece of junk that lay in the wrong place, even a suspicious dust bunny. But there had been nothing. Nothing but blood and a torn apart body that once had been a boy. A boy who would never celebrate his ninth birthday.
Shawn sighed and covered his face in his palms. Lassiter had been right when he had thrown him out. He had asked him for his help and what had he provided? Nothing. For the first time in his life Shawn wished that Lassiter would have yelled at him. But the detective had talked in a low tone, out of respect for the still present dead. But this low tone had been worse than any yelling could have been. Shawn had never felt so useless on a crime scene.
The TV went black and Shawn looked up. His dad threw the remote down on the table and took a seat next to him on the sofa. Usually Shawn would have protested against his dad just switching off his TV program. But not today. There was no point in protesting against anything. Henry knew that.
„Shawn, what are you doing?" his father sighed.
„What do you mean?"
Instead of an answer Henry threw a look at the newspaper that lay on the coffeetable. Of course. The headline read: Chimney killer did it again. It was impossible to get away from that.
„You still think about it, don´t you?" Henry asked and Shawn could almost feel the accusation in his fathers question.
„You didn´t see the victim." he said weak but defensive.
„No, I didn´t." Henry agreed. „And I wish you hadn´t either. Not today."
„I guess it would have looked the same way no matter on what day." Shawn snapped.
Henry just looked at him. Not accusing but understanding. „You will catch him." he foretold his son. „You will. But not today."
„What if I can´t?" Shawn asked.
„You will." was all Henry said. „And don´t you dare starting to believe what these gossip reporters come up with. Did you read what they advised people to?"
„Yeah. To block their chimneys."
„Stupid crap." Henry snapped. „As if there was really something coming down there."
Shawn managed a halfhearted smirk but it vanished as quickly as he had forced it to come.
„There have always been murderers who had been more clever than others." Henry now told him. „Criminals who know how to avoid clues and evidence. But at the end they always make a mistake. You´ll catch him."
„I don´t know." Shawn sighed and buried his face in his hands once again. „I´m not so sure anymore."
„About what?"
There was a long pause in which Shawn tried not to freak out over the look of his dad´s old chimney. The chimney with the socks hanging over the fireplace. The chimney with the fish and starfish on the rim. The chimney he had looked up when he was five to see if Santa Clause was already on the way. The same kind of chimney the five victims had had in their houses. Only that their fireplaces had been much smaller. And some of them had been barred. Shawn remembered that one of the victims, the old man, had had marks in his skin, that indicated that he had been pressed against those bars … or dragged into them, when something tried to pull him to the other side.
Shawn jumped up. He didn´t even realize that he had done so until his dad stood next to him, grabbing his shoulder and asking if he was all right. Of course Henry had to know that he wasn´t. He had to feel the shaking in his son´s shoulder. But he accepted it when Shawn said, that he was fine. Just asked him if he wanted a beer, probably knowing that Shawn would need one now. He brought two back from the kitchen. One for Shawn and one for himself.
„How can someone be that good." Shawn asked after a while. „I mean … the cops checked every door and every window of the houses he was in. There were no signs of forced entry. How is that possible dad?"
„I don´t know. But there are many possibilities. Maybe he got himself some keys. Maybe he works for a lockout service. Or … I don´t know, he gets hand on the peoples keys another way and makes himself a waxcast. You never know."
„I don´t know." Shawn said once again. „Dad, I´m scared. I mean really. I … I just don´t know anymore."
„What don´t you know?" Henry asked.
„I don´t know what I´m chasing here."
Henry gave his son a long look. „You are chasing a murderer, Shawn." he then said. „Like always."
He patted his son´s shoulder and then stood up. „I´ll do the dishes now." he said. „You want another beer?"
„No."
„Okay then." Henry said and left for the kitchen, leaving Shawn behind to sit on his own. Face to face with this goddamn chimney he had looked up as a five year old to see if Santa Clause was on his way. Now he had the bad feeling that something else was on the way. Nothing as friendly as good old Santa. Suddenly he had the picture of the Grinch in his mind. The Grinch that came down the chimney in his Santa Clause disguise and grabbed the little boy that was just looking up this very chimney, to pull him up. Up and away, to a place where he could eat this boy up undisturbed.
Shawn shivered. This was ridiculous. There was no such thing as monsters. Especially no monsters that lived in the chimney. The Grinch was not real. He was just a figure from a fairy-tale parents told their children. A character in a film Jim Carry once had portrayed in a hilarious way. But he was not real. And even if he would be, he was only known for stealing presents and maybe destroying a Christmas tree. He was not known for killing, especially not in such a bestial way.
A guttural howling sound came out of the chimney and Shawn jumped up with a gasping scream.
„Shawn!" Henry cried and came rushing in, his hands covered with soap water. „Shawn, what happened?"
Shawn was staring into the chimney. There it was again. The deep and growling sound he had heard. The sound of the wind that blew though the chimney pot. A sound Shawn had known for years since he could remember. A sound he had thought had stopped scaring him since he had turned seven.
„Its nothing." he finally answered his dad´s question. But of course Henry had already gotten the idea himself.
„Maybe you should lay down for a while." he suggested.
„No." Shawn denied. „I think I should call Lassie."
„Lassiter? Why that?"
„I don´t know. I just …"
Henry made a dismissing sound, knowing that he couldn´t reason with his son anyway. If he wanted to think about this case, he wouldn´t stop until an atomic war broke loose. So he went back into his kitchen to finish his dishes and Shawn, taking out his cell phone, went out to the porch. For some reason he couldn´t stand it in there any longer. Not with this chimney staring at him.
He pressed Lassiter´s button and speed dialed the detective´s number. Usually he would probably prefer to call Gus or Juliet to talk to either of them about his troubled mind. But he was pretty sure they were already celebrating Christmas with their folks by now. Lassie on the other hand … he answered after the third ring.
„Lassiter."
„Lassie." Shawn cried trying to sound more joyful than he felt. „Hey."
„Spencer." was the usual and neutral response. He didn´t hung up and he didn´t yell at him what the hell he wanted. Was that a good sign?
„Listen, Lassie." Shawn said. „Its about the case."
„Did you find something?" Lassiter asked eagerly and this change in the detective´s mode startled Shawn a little.
„Its probably nothing." he admitted. „Just something my dad said to me. About the guy getting into the houses without leaving traces … He said he might have copied the keys somehow … or that he could work for a lockout service. You know …"
„You were right, Spencer, that was nothing." Lassiter sounded disappointed. „I´ve already been there after the second victim. But thanks for sharing."
„Well …" Shawn felt embarrassed again.
„Is there anything else?" Lassiter asked.
Shawn felt as useless as before. „No." he said.
There was a brief silence on the other end. Maybe Lassiter had gotten the tone in Shawn´s voice. Eventually he said: „Listen, Spencer. About earlier today … That I let you lead off the crime scene. That was inappropriate."
Shawn blinked in disbelieve. „Did you just apologize to me, Lassie?"
„I wouldn´t go that far." Lassiter replied.
„Lassie-scrooge." Shawn grinned. „Have you been visited by three ghosts tonight?"
„Funny, Spencer." Lassiter said. „All I wanted to say with that is … I don´t blame you that you didn´t find anything today. No one found anything so far. Its not your fault. The only reason why I was so on the edge is all this nonsense the papers made up about monsters and all. It was not because of you. Not this time at least."
„Lassie." Shawn interrupted the startling speech. „Have you been drinking?"
„Maybe." Lassiter admitted. „A little. But not so much that I wouldn´t know anymore what I´m talking about. Not yet."
Shawn couldn´t help but smiled. For the first time today he felt a little better. „Apology accepted." he said.
„Good. Then let me keep drinking now. Maybe I will forget that I ever said this."
Shawn had just opened his mouth to give a teasing response to that, when he heard a bloodcurdling scream from inside the house. He swirled around so fast that he almost swirled too far and lost his balance.
„Spencer, what the hell was that?" Lassiter barked on the phone.
But Shawn didn´t hear him anymore. All he heard were the screams of his dad, that were so full of terror and mortal agony that it barely sounded human anymore. He dropped his cell phone and ran back into the house. He didn´t know what he expected to find in there. He only knew that his dad would never scream that awfully if he´d just injured himself in the kitchen or something as simple as that. Not even if he´d been shot. Not even …
Over the screams Shawn could hear another sound now. A much deeper sound that was not, could not be human. He ran faster. When he bend around the corner he almost slipped on the loose carpet that lay in the hallway. But he caught himself, jumped around the corner into the sitting room … and froze. What he saw made him doubt everything he had ever believed to be true all his life. Worse. It almost made him lose his mind. There was something clinging to his fathers legs, clawing into his flesh and pulling him up into the chimney. Something dark and hairy. Henry was still screaming. He tried to cling to the heel before the chimney, clinging to it for dear life. Behind him the thing that had him snarled in anger and hunger and pulled harder. There was blood all over Henry´s pants. His screams were so high and loud, Shawn wasn´t even sure if he was aware that he was there, staring at him. But then their eyes met and the curse that had frozen Shawn to the ground was broken.
Shawn lunged forward. A second before he reached him he saw a change in his father´s eyes. He wanted to open his mouth and yell at him not to, but Henry had already let go of the heel. The last thing Shawn heard was the satisfied snarl of the beast and Henry´s voice that cried for Shawn to run away, both vanishing somewhere up in the depth of the chimney.
His legs gave in and he fell to his knees in front of the fireplace. His whole body was shaking. He looked down on his hands that were dug in the ashes from the fireplace. Ashes and blood. His dad´s blood. He looked up when another sound came from the chimney. Another snarl. Still deep inside that black hole that had swallowed his dad. But closing in. It came back. Back for him.
Shawn screamed and struggled to his feet. He stumbled but somehow managed it to stand up again. The snarl was closer now. Shawn spun around and slipped over the coffee table. He rolled and hit his knee on something but he ignored the pain. All his mind was set to in this moment was running. Somewhere on the edge of his consciousness he still knew that there was a cell phone on the porch with Lassie in the line. But mostly he though about running. Running for dear life and not to stop before he was safe and out of reach of that thing. That thing that had carried away his dad. Up into the chimney. The same chimney Shawn had known his whole life. The same chimney he had looked up as a kid to see if Santa Clause was on the way.
He could hear the deep snarl again, much closer this time, when he reached the corner and when he reached the door he just knew that it was there in the same room again, looking for him. When it didn´t find him there it snarled in anger and started to pursue its fleeing prey. Shawn could feel that it was right behind him. He opened the door and ran out. Out into the night. The silent holy night of Christmas eve. Only this time the Grinch had succeeded in stealing it away. And he wasn´t finished yet.
Shawn ran. He was right behind him.
