It was close to midnight when Lee stepped into Leroy's diner. The fluorescent light bulbs did nothing to illuminate the dingy room that even the rats chose to avoid.
Everyone knew some higher force was responsible for the corruption of Ross County, but those in Knockemstiff blamed Leroy and his henchman Bobo. They'd given up trusting God a long time ago and began placing faith in the illustrious businessmen, eager to improve the poverty of their town. Once the conditions worsened, the most naive people claimed he was the devil. Now they steered clear of his establishments like they were plague houses. His whorehouse Tecumseh may be packed with desperate men every night, but no one dared to step foot in the diner: Leroy ate there every evening and stayed late into the night. Only those on his payroll would enter.
Lee strolled cautiously between the row of booths and the counter, anxiety bubbling in his throat. Surely Leroy wouldn't kill him with the waitress still working. No other customers were there, which reassured Lee slightly: at least no one would see his dealings with Leroy. Bobo was seated facing towards the door, for protection Lee deduced, whilst Leroy had his back exposed, an aura of arrogance filling the air around him. It would be an easy shot. No. Bobo would kill him before he even cocked his gun.
Before Lee even reached the booth, Leroy's patronising voice rang out.
"My boy, my boy," Leroy didn't even turn to look at Lee until he flipped one of the stacked bar stools and sat down at the end of their booth. "It's been a while."
"Yeah," Lee sighed, trying to calm the nerves calling for him to run out of the diner and drive as far away as possible from Leroy. The waitress soon came over, her youth reminding him of you, reminding him why he needed to appease the man in front of him.
"Whatcha having, honey?" she asked sweetly, her term of endearment falling on deaf ears.
"Coffee," Lee answered abruptly, "Ain't staying long."
He picked up the glass of water she had brought over, glancing over at the weapon Bobo was grasping in his arms.
"You got a new toy?" he took a sip of the cool liquid. Making conversation with Bobo always doused Leroy's anger. Only slightly. But slightly could mean the difference between life and death.
"It's an English firearm. It's really rare," Bobo sounded almost proud, "It's got special bullets. Untraceable."
"Untraceable," Lee repeated, a plan already forming in his mind. If he could kill them both before they killed him, he'd still be able to have a life with you - and you wouldn't need to know about any of his dirty dealings with Leroy.
A loud crash of cutlery from behind interrupted his train of thought.
"Sorry!" the waitress called out from the kitchen.
The disturbance had finally forced Leroy to turn his head and meet Lee's gaze. He went back to his meal but paused for a moment to speak.
"Word starts going around Sheriff's got his eye on the girls at Tecumseh," not a question but an accusation, "That's gonna cost me my money. Me losing money is gonna cost you your cut."
Fear glazed over his eyes. He needed that money as, call him old-fashioned, but he didn't want you to have to work. You'd expressed how much you hated working at the grocery store and he didn't want you to have to worry about your income. He wanted to be able to provide for you.
"It didn't have anything to do with you," he responded. Leroy put down his cutlery dismissively, pushing it towards Bobo.
"It does now," he sat up in an almost condescending way, "Bobo, you ever go and beat the shit outta someone I made my money off?"
"No," he pulled the plate towards him, perhaps to start eating off of his boss' plate, "Never crossed my mind, thinking about that."
Of course, Bobo would agree with Leroy: Lee even suspected that the nature of their relationship was more than just a corrupt pimp and his bodyguard.
"Guy running against me is going door-to-door telling folk I look the other away when it comes to Sandy," Lee pleaded.
Leroy seemed to consider his honesty for a second before sitting upright again.
"Bobo, don't eat my scraps," he scoffed, "Give over the envelope." Leroy sniffed as he counted the bills given to him. He separated a third of them and Lee feared for the worst. He held his hand out to Lee before quickly pulling it away.
"There's debts you owe me," Leroy explained, "What I'm going to lose at the bar."
"Horse shit," Lee retorted, keeping his hand extended, "You ain't losing nothing there."
"Yeah? And you know that 'cause you're a loaded diaper like everyone else who works for me or because all of Meade knows you're dirty?" he rasped. Leroy sniffed again as he placed the notes onto the grimy tablecloth, spitting a large dribble of saliva onto them, "That's your weekly earnings 'til we're square. Now, get the fuck out of my diner."
Lee took the bills, shaking the spit off of them before standing and turning to leave. As he traipsed back down the corridor between the booths and the counter, Leroy spoke once again.
"My bar is off limits and so is your whore sister, you understand? Or else I might have to pay a visit to your little sweetheart", he threatened, "Y/N's her name ain't it. Works at the grocers. She'd be too pretty to kill, probably just make her one of my whores, or better yet, make her keep my bed warm for me."
**********
Ever since Leroy had threatened to visit you, Lee had been almost overwhelmingly protective. At first, it was comforting, you reassured yourself that he was just looking out for you. But then he stopped letting you leave the house without him. You'd had to quit your job at the grocers. You may not have enjoyed working there, but you still needed the money: even with his Sheriff's salary, Lee wouldn't be able to afford the mortgage. Or at least that's what he'd told you. You were blissfully ignorant of his extra income from Leroy and he'd like to keep it that way.
After three weeks of enduring house arrest, you decided enough was enough. A short walk to the grocers would be fine. The cream and sugar had run out that morning, after Lee's usual cup of coffee, and he would be grumpy for the rest of the evening if he came home to a house without it. He'd given up drinking when you'd moved in, painfully aware of how he mirrored his father's actions whilst under the influence, and had replaced it with the almost as addictive substance of sugar. The short journey shouldn't take long; twenty minutes at most. You could be back in the house and Lee wouldn't even realise.
Tieing your coat around your waist, you laced up your boots with such haste that you didn't notice the front door open. Lee walked in, quickly admiring your rear end as you bent down, before realising you were preparing to go outside.
"Where do you think you're going honey?" he asked accusingly.
"We have run out of a few things," you began to explain, "I am just going to the grocers to replace them."
"All right then sweetheart. I'll drive us over and you can buy the things."
"No Lee. I am perfectly capable of walking over by myself."
"Fine, we can walk together."
"You are not listening to me, Lee," your anger over your captivity finally spilling over, "I can go by myself, I do not need you to escort me everywhere."
"I like going out with you."
"No, Lee. You like controlling my every move. Why won't you let me leave?"
"I'm not "not letting you leave"," he defended, "I don't want you to go by yourself."
"Why not Lee?"
"It's not safe darling, you know this."
"Not this again. What do you mean not safe? How is walking to the grocers dangerous?"
"I can't explain it Y/N."
"Why not?"
"I just... can't."
"I'm done with this conversation," you sighed, attempting to open the door. Lee pushed passed you and blocked your exit.
"Move out of the way Lee."
"I can't let you leave by yourself darling."
"Move."
"No."
You tried to reach under his arm to grab the handle but he seemed to predict your movement. Towering over you, Lee pressed you against the foyer wall; his broad arms placed on either side of your body, trapping you beneath him. Again, you struggled to open the door. He took both of your hands in one of his and pinned them above your head.
"Dammit Lee. Let me go."
He didn't reply and instead gazed into your eyes. You expected to meet pools of rage, but all you saw was fear and vulnerability. He leaned down to kiss you, grazing his soft lips against your own. That was unexpected. Continuing his pursuit of your silence, he trailed his jaw down your neck and nipped at the delicate skin, which would surely leave you with a few hickeys. Your demands turned to moans as he gripped the curve of your waist. He attacked your lips again and guided you into the living room, your legs brushing against the sofa. Sitting down, he pulled you to straddle his hips, the thickness of his thighs acting as a cushion beneath your own. Lost in the euphoria of your embrace, it took you a moment to realise Lee was gently sobbing against your chest.
"Baby," you stroked your fingers through his hair, "What's wrong?"
He choked back a tear, "I can't let you leave Y/N."
"Why not Lee?" you asked a little softer than before. He just shook his head and looked down, "You need to tell me, Lee."
"I can't sweetheart. It's not safe. I can't tell you until I've solved the problem."
"What's the problem baby? Maybe I can help you sort it."
"It's not safe Y/N," he bawled, "I can't lose you."
"You're not going to lose me," you lifted his chin with your finger, forcing him to meet your eyes, "There is nothing that could make you lose me."
"Leroy could," he finally admitted.
"Leroy?" you questioned, "You're scared I'm gonna run off with Leroy brown, the biggest jackass this country's ever seen?"
"No Y/N. I'm scared he's going to force you to be with him after he kills me."
"What?"
"Or he'll just kill you beforehand," he continued without explaining, "If he can't kill me first."
"Lee, you're scaring me."
"He threatened you Y/N. Said he'd make you keep his bed warm for him if I didn't follow his every command."
"Why would you be speaking to him in the first place?"
"How do you think we can afford this house, darling? It ain't those shifts you were doing at the grocers."
"So you work for Leroy?"
"I can't lie to you anymore. I've been working for him since before I became Sheriff. Everything was fine until I started trying to protect Sandy. Now he's threatened to harm you if I don't comply."
"Lee," you brushed a tear from his cheek, "This is why you didn't want me to go outside by myself."
"I can't protect you if you go without me," his usually cold expression melted as you sat in his lap, "I can't live without you darling."
"And I can't live without you Lee," you placed a kiss against his tear-stained jaw, "But I can't spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder."
"I know Y/N. I just need to get rid of them," he lay his head against your chest, "Then you'll be safe."
"No, then we'll be safe," you responded.
Leaning into his soft body, you began to formulate your plan. If you killed Leroy, you and Lee wouldn't be threatened anymore. Maybe you could take the shotgun from the shed. No, the bullets would be traced back to you. Maybe a baseball bat? No, again, it would lead back to you. Maybe something from Leroy's house? Yes, that should work. If it was from his own house, the murder weapon would be traced back to him.
Before you could devise any more of your scheme, Lee picked you up and walked up the stairs to your bedroom. Separating only to undress each other, you crawled under the crumpled sheets. Lee hardly ever made the bed, claiming that you would just mess it up again once he came home. You lay your head on his chest and circled your arms around his middle. He pulled your leg over his thigh until you were practically lying on top of him. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he spoke once again.
"I'm sorry for everything Y/N."
"It's okay Lee. You were just trying to protect me."
"I won't let him take you away from me."
"I know you won't baby. Try to sleep now and we can talk more in the morning."
"Thank you, darling," tiredness claimed his voice.
It only took a few minutes for him to fall asleep in your arms, but insomnia overpowered your mind as you continued plotting how to kill Leroy and whoever else may be in his far from humble abode.
**********
Opening the oven door, you pulled out the freshly baked apple pie and placed it on the countertop. After Lee's confession last night, you'd spent the better part of the morning reassuring him that you would be safe by yourself. Finally, he'd left for work and you could start orchestrating your plan. You placed the pie into your picnic basket (which you used quite regularly, whether it be for bake sales, summer fairs or just taking Lee his lunch), along with the small bottle of bleach and rubbing alcohol, and locked the house behind you. Lee would be at work by now and wouldn't start his patrol for at least another hour.
Swiftly walking through the woods behind your house, it didn't take long for you to reach Leroy's house. The previous summer he'd hosted a garden party for the community; a way to give back he'd alleged, but everyone knew it was a way to show off his extravagance to the poor. He'd asked everyone to bring a dish with him, and as you were renowned for your baking, you'd brought an apple pie. Remembering back to that day, you recalled that Leroy had helped himself to at least three servings before claiming it was the best pie in all of Ohio. Hopefully, he'd be eager for more.
You knocked on the front door. Bobo called from inside for you to enter, he'd probably spotted you through the window. He stood at the stovetop scrambling eggs as he gestured for you to sit down in the kitchen.
"Morning Y/N," he smiled, "You want some?"
"No thank you, Bobo," you opened your basket to show him the pie, "I'm actually here to drop off this pie for your both. I was in a baking mood and remembered how much Leroy enjoyed it last time."
"That's very kind of you," he began plating up the eggs, presumably for Leroy's breakfast, "Shouldn't you be baking for Lee now though?"
"Oh, I made plenty. He's got another one at home."
"Well, I think Leroy would love some with his breakfast," he moved over to the sink, "Why don't you cut him a piece whilst I brew his coffee."
This was perfect. He turned his back and you quickly soaked the cloth covering the basket in the mixture of bleach and rubbing alcohol. You'd read somewhere that it could knock a grown man out in a matter of minutes. If he was unconscious, it'd be easier to stab him with his own kitchen knife. Pretending to search for some plates, you walked closer to Bobo until you were directly behind him.
"You know, one thing I never can get is the scoops and water," he declared, "Is it more water to scoops or more scoops to water?"
Without answering his question, you covered his lower face with the cloth, cutting off his oxygen supply. The deadly mixture worked better than you'd anticipated and, after only a minute and a half, Bobo stopped struggling. His body went limp as you lowered him to the ground. Placing your fingers to his neck, you began searching for a sharp, kitchen knife. He still had a pulse. If you didn't act quickly, he'd wake up in a few minutes, disorientated, but ready to fight. Opening and closing drawers seemed to be futile until you came across the desired object.
A stainless steel bread knife. You gazed upon the utensil for a moment before grasping the handle in your palm. It was light enough to hold comfortably but sharp enough to kill the man that lay before you. Placing your feet on either side of him, you placed one hand on his pulse and the other sliced the knife through his chest. You repeated this action several times, growing more frantic with each thrust, his blood seeping through his pale, cream shirt. After what felt like an eternity, his pulse finally ceased.
Standing over the corpse, you moved to the sink and washed the evidence of your massacre down the drain. You replaced the knife in the drawer, after drying it on the dishtowel, and placed the bleach and rubbing alcohol-soaked cloth back into your picnic basket. Phase one of your plan was complete.
It felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders knowing you were one step closer to freedom. You and Lee would be safe again. Now all you had to do was kill Leroy.
You stepped into the dining room, searching for another weapon. It would be too difficult to stab Leroy as you guessed he'd already be awake, waiting for Bobo to bring him his breakfast. Your eyes darted around the room. The table was covered in various junk: a few candy wrappers, some empty glasses, and stacks of magazines. But right in the middle was the prize you were searching for. The pistol was small and felt heavy in your hand. You flicked open the chamber: it was already loaded.
Before you knew it, you'd reached the top of the stairs and walked towards the faint sound of Leroy's voice.
"Bobo, go there do this," his speech became clearer as you stood in front of his open door. Surprisingly, he hadn't spotted you and he continued talking on the phone, "He goes there, does it." Pistol cocked and loaded, you waited somewhat impatiently for him to finish. "He's simple," Leroy had his back to you as you aimed the weapon at his head, "You too."
Finally, he put down the phone and turned around. Obvious fear took over him as his eyes flicked between you and the gun.
"Y/N?" he questioned.
"I'm not going to keep your bed warm Leroy," you pulled the trigger. His corpse fell to the ground with a thud. One shot was all it took. Standing over his body, you fired once more, straight at his heart, just in case. You could never be too careful.
Relief finally washed over you as you sank onto his bed. You'd solved the problem: Lee didn't have to worry about protecting you anymore. With this wave of calmness, exhaustion forced you to lie down. A few minutes to collect yourself wouldn't hurt.
Not even a minute later, a familiar voice rang out.
"Leroy," it shouted, "Leroy, are you here?"
Lee.
"Leroy, I'm coming upstairs armed and ready to shoot. Let's not have any funny business."
You raced to meet him at the doorway as he claimed the steps.
"Lee, don't shoot," you pleaded, "It's me."
"Y/N?" he lowered his weapon, "What are you doing here?"
"We're safe now Lee."
He looked at you questioningly, "What do you mean darling?"
"I took care of your problem. I told you that I can't spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder."
"Was that handiwork downstairs you?" you nodded, "And Leroy?"
"Come see for yourself Lee," he placed his gun back in his holster and followed you into Leroy's bedroom. The fresh corpse was still bleeding out.
"It seems that great minds think alike sweetheart," he chuckled, "I was just about to do the exact same thing to both of them."
"So you're not disappointed that your wife is a serial killer?" you asked hesitantly, scared of his answer.
"I think you need at least three murders to be a serial killer, baby," he joked, pulling you closer to him and pressing a kiss to your lips.
You moaned slightly at the action, intrigued by how much this seemed to turn him on
"Who said these were my first murders?"