Tom slammed the receiver down on the school's payphone and told Doug, "I got Terry's address from Jenko, let's go!"
"If that little psychopath got herself murdered over the weekend, I'll kill her!" Doug told him.
The two cops made a beeline for the school's exit and made it in record time, rushed out to the car, hopped in, and headed off for Terry Livingston's house.
"What if he did get her?" Tom asked as they sped through the largely empty streets at 40 miles and hour, 20 over the allowable speed by law, "What if she is dead?"
"Don't think about it," Doug told him, "Whatever happened, we'll deal with it when we get there, you falling apart on me on the ride over does not help any of us."
"We just saw her two weeks ago," Tom said, "What could've happened?"
"Hanson!" Doug turned to his partner and warned him, "I am dangerously close to running both of us off the road if you don't shut up!"
Tom didn't say another word but over the engine roaring, Doug was able to hear his partner groaning to himself, and heard as well as saw the younger cop hitting himself in the head. If there was time or a place for it, he'd have a joke ready about how he'd wanted to do that since Hanson first transferred to the Chapel, but Doug knew now was not the time or place for it.
After five minutes, they got out of the main city and into the residential area where they were now only 10 miles over the limit, and keeping an eagle eye out for Terry's house. Hanson kept looking down at the address he'd scrawled on a piece of scrap paper and looked for the matching numbers on the house.
"There!" he pointed out the window, "There's the house, Doug!"
Doug hit the brakes and looked out the passenger window.
"Doesn't look like anyone's home," he said, noting no cars in the driveway and no lights on.
"But there's no mail or newspapers stacked up," Tom told him, and reached for his gun, "Let's check it out."
"Right," Doug put the car in park and reached for his gun as well.
They made a casual show of getting out of the car and going up to the front porch. Tom tried looking in through the window but he couldn't see much of anything. Doug tried the door and found it was unlocked. The two looked at each other and considered the possibilities. Slowly, he pushed the door open and they looked in before they ever took a step in. Not a sign of anybody.
"Hello?" Tom called out.
No answer.
"Terry?" he said in a near whisper.
Nothing.
They cautiously moved in and shut the door behind them. They drew their guns but kept them lowered, their fingers just short of the triggers.
"What do we do?" Tom asked quietly.
Doug shrugged and replied, "Let's split up and see if we find anything."
"Good idea," Tom said, "You take the upstairs."
Penhall didn't see what difference that made, but he went up the stairs and kept his eyes peeled for anything unusual. Meanwhile, Tom took the downstairs room by room, first the dining room, then the living room, then an office room presumably for her father.
"Terry?" he called out lowly every so often as he looked around every corner, "Terry?"
"Yoo-hoo little psychopath," Doug called as he checked the bedrooms, "Are you here?"
Within 10 minutes they met again at the foot of the stairs.
"Nobody's here, Hanson," Doug told his partner, "There's nobody, no sign of a struggle, no sign anybody broke in, there's nothing."
"Then where is she, Doug?" Tom asked, "Why hasn't she been to school in a week?"
"Maybe she dropped out," Doug replied as he holstered his gun.
Tom shook his head, "No, I don't think so, Doug."
"Why, because she's such an excellent student?" Doug asked sarcastically, "She's a bloodthirsty little demon. Are you sure you searched all the rooms down here?"
"Yes, Doug, I'm sure," Tom replied, not appreciating his partner criticizing his work.
All the same Doug decided to take a look for him, checked the dining room, living room, office, and stopped and noticed between the office and the living room was a floor to ceiling bookcase filled to the brim in books, and for some reason he couldn't help stopping to skim over a few titles.
"Must be interesting to know what her dad does for a living," Doug said, "Must be a doctor."
"Why do you say that?" Tom asked, only half paying attention.
"Looks like a lot of medical books here," Doug answered, "Autopsy, anatomy, the human form from head to toe, what breaks, what hurts, and what bursts when you hit it just right." He turned to his partner and said, "Either her dad's a doctor or he's a leg breaker for the mob."
Hanson couldn't resist scoffing, "Living in this house? What are you, crazy?"
"I got you for a partner don't I?" Doug returned.
A sudden noise from somewhere in the back of the house got both their attention and made them both about jump a mile. They both drew their guns out again and inched their way around to the kitchen, watching the door, the windows, the door in the back leading to the pantry.
"What's that door over there?" Doug asked, pointing to another.
"I don't know, I didn't notice it before," Tom told him.
Doug rolled his eyes, "Oh big help."
They made their way over towards the door as they heard the knob turning, and both about charged as it opened, instead they stayed where they were and saw Terry Livingston herself emerge from the basement.
"Terry!"
Now she about jumped out of her skin. She reached over and hit both of them and demanded to know, "What the hell are you two doing here?"
Doug took a couple hard breaths to compose himself, and Tom was about hyperventilating as they both put their guns away, and Doug demanded to know in return, "Why the hell haven't you been in school?"
"How'd you find out about that?" Terry wanted to know.
"You were gone for 8 days, you didn't think anybody would notice?" Doug asked.
"You go to the same school I do," she pointed out, "It took you this long to figure it out?"
"We didn't know you were at the same school," Tom told her.
"Really?" Terry asked, "I figured that out for myself the day after you guys hauled me in. I saw you come in."
"And you never said anything?" Doug asked.
"We don't have any of the same classes," Terry said, "That was the only saving grace, or you would've known I was there."
"We only figured that out today when we found out you've been missing for a week and a half."
"I haven't been missing anything," Terry told them, "I've been right here."
"Yeah, the question is why?" Doug asked.
Without even blinking, she looked the cop dead in the eyes and in an almost deadpan tone, answered, "I've been out sick, I got a note."
"The school didn't say anything about that," Tom said.
"Because it just came up," and still nonchalantly she regarded both male cops and told them, "Excruciating menstrual cramps that make it simply impossible to endure school."
"Hey I wasn't going to say anything," Doug put his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender.
"Terry, why haven't you been to school in a week?" Tom asked.
"Incase you didn't notice, Mister Hanson," she told him condescendingly, "There's a killer out there."
"Yeah but he only attacks at night," Doug pointed out.
She pointed to him and retorted, "And how does he decide who will be his victims? How do you know he doesn't watch them all day and see where they go to determine who will be next?" She noted the awkward silence and the awkward look on his face and added, "Yeah, you didn't think of that, did you? You thought he was just some kind of Dracula character that only comes out at night and picks somebody at random to kill."
"So you mean you've been in this house all this time?" Tom asked.
"Yes," Terry answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world, "That way I know I'm safe, he can't watch me all day, he can't follow me wherever I go, and to date he's never attacked anyone inside so I'm as safe as they come."
"Why was the door unlocked then?" Doug asked.
"To bring the mail in, genius," she said, "Or hadn't you noticed it and the papers haven't been out there accumulating for a week?"
"What were you doing in the basement?" Tom asked.
"It's my basement, if I want to go down there I can," she said in a smart aleck tone.
"Answer the question!"
Unfazed she answered, "Officer Hanson, how do you propose to stay in a house for 10 days without ever going out to the grocery store? You'd have to have some stockpile of food built up, wouldn't you? Well ours just happens to be in the basement, if that's alright with you."
"How long were you planning on staying in here?" Doug asked her.
She folded her arms against her chest and said smugly, "An ideal answer would be until you caught the killer, but the odds of that happening are worse than getting hit by lightning, so I suppose I'll have to be emerging one of these days."
"What exactly have you been doing here all day?" Doug inquired.
"Same things you do at home anyway," Terry answered, "Watch TV, workout, read, cook, eat, talk to myself, that's a big one. Definitely some of the better conversations I've had in my time."
"I'd think you'd be going stir crazy after that long," Tom said.
She turned to him and remarked, "Shows what you get for thinking, doesn't it? Ever have the chickenpox, officer?"
"Long time ago," he answered.
"Yeah, me too," she said, "Only mine wasn't so long ago, two weeks, two weeks to the day shut up in the house, quarantined, hidden from the rest of the world, broke out from head to foot, not supposed to scratch but you can't stop it either, you start breaking out before you know what it is so you pop the first few thinking they're zits, and instead they come back and turn black, and these are the ones that'll mark you for the rest of your life. Two weeks you can't wear underwear because you've got 500 of them around your hips, one week you take allergy pills to help lighten the itching, but after the first few days, they make you so you can't sleep anymore, so you sit up all night watching TV. Even once the itching stops it's still almost a whole week until the pox finally goes away and you can ever show your face outside again, and wear real clothes again instead of loose pajamas that won't cling to the pox. Once you've had that, then staying inside for 10 days and nights in the name of staying alive from a psychopath with a strong grip isn't so bad."
"Hearing all that now you made me itch," Penhall said as he scratched his forearm.
"I'm doing what I can to ensure I stay alive," Terry told Hanson, "Why should I be punished for that?"
"Terry, nobody wants to do anything," Tom told her in response, "But if you don't go back to school, we will have to do something about it, there are still laws on the books for missing so many days."
"I have a ways to go before it comes to that," Terry answered smugly, "The irony, you'll lock me up but you'll let the murderer remain free to do as he pleases."
"We are doing everything we can to catch him," Tom pointed out.
"And it's not enough," Terry said, "He'll go on to be another Jack the Ripper, get away with it Scot-free and forever after everybody will always wonder who could that madman have been?"
"Okay, you know what?" Penhall said, "You're here, you're alive, that's all that mattered, we can get out of here now, you have a good day, have a nice life, so long. Let's go, Hanson."
"We'll show ourselves out," Tom told her.
"You do that," she replied a bit coldly.
They left the kitchen and headed for the front, but Doug looked back and when he saw she wasn't following them, he grabbed Hanson and told him, "Before we leave, I want to show you something."
"What's that?" Tom asked.
Doug took Hanson back over to the bookcase and pointed to the books as he explained, "I noticed that in addition to books on autopsy here, there also seems to be about every single true crime book on serial killers ever written, and also looks like a few reference books on how to commit murder, by poisons, by homemade bombs and booby traps, by strangulation, and what's the quickest and most efficient ways."
Tom glanced over some of the books and took in what his partner said, and looked to Doug uneasily as his head started filling with ideas.
"You think…" he started to say, but couldn't bring himself to ask the full question.
"You think it's impossible for a woman to be a serial killer?" Doug asked, "Or a clearly demented teenaged girl for that matter?" He took a step towards Tom and asked him, "Think about it, how is it she kept popping up around the time of the attacks? She came to the Chapel so she knew what our latest updates on the case were. She suddenly stops going to school, and there hasn't been another attack since."
"No, it can't be," Tom denied it, "It just can't be possible."
"Hey, Tommy," Doug said condescendingly, "I know you think I was the dumb guy in school, but in addition to All the King's Men, there is one other literary reference I remember from back then. 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.' Sound familiar? Well this ain't impossible, now is it?"
Hanson didn't want to admit that it could be possible but he also knew that they couldn't rule it out just yet either.
"What're we going to do, Doug?" he asked.
"We're going to find out if that crazy woman in there's got it in her to kill someone," Doug told him, "That's what we're going to do."
"Alright, how?" Tom asked.
Doug's response was, "I'm not sure yet."