by Owen Parr
Lucy looked at her phone as it chirped, she clicked it on, listened for a minute, and said, “No one got a license number, but, they saw Marcy get in a white SUV, with Belford and a duffle bag he was carrying, as they drove away from the range.”
I was too agitated to say anything. But, I knew what was in the duffle bag.
Victoria said, “So, Belford must have borrowed, or rented an SUV. You think he’s driving to Chicago, his old home?”
Having calmed down a bit, I replied, “No, if he drugged Marcy to take her somewhere, then he only drove for a few hours. They’re in the tristate area for sure.”
Agnes said, “I can start calling car rental agencies, but, that’s going to take a while. Plus, they’re not going to give me much information.”
Lucy snapped, “They will if it’s Detective Lucy Roberts, from the NYPD, calling. Get a list going, Agnes. Let’s you, Angela, and I start calling. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
My phone rang, Detective Farnsworth was calling. “Yes Farnsworth, anything?
“No, I have nothing. You have anything on your end?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
I went on to explain what was developing.
He asked, “How can we help?”
“Are you still surveilling Officer Sanchez?”
Farnsworth replied, “Joey, we just got through questioning his partner, Officer Edwards.”
“And?” I queried.
“It seems Edwards and Sanchez were together, drinking and eating, on two of the nights our killer struck. So, it’s unlikely Sanchez is our unsub.”
“So, you’re dropping the surveillance?”
“The Captain was going to cut it back, to after his shift for one or two more nights.”
“I got it. Makes sense I guess. I’ll keep you guys in the loop. Thanks, Farns.”
“No problem, Joey. This FBI agent, Belford, you think he’s our man?”
“Is looking that way,” I paused, closed my eyes, then finally said, “call you later.”
22
Marcy turned her head from side-to-side, realizing as she did that she had a massive headache. Trying to open her eyes and focus, she woke up from what felt to her, like a drug-induced sleep. She heard words, but, couldn’t make any sense of it.
“Welcome back, sleepy-head,” said Special Agent Tony Belford, a second time.
Marcy didn’t respond. Her first reaction was to wipe her face with her hands. As she attempted to do that, she noticed that she was strapped to a bed, face up. Both her hands were fastened, with handcuffs, to the back of the headrest. Raising her head, she noticed her legs tied with satin red ribbons to the bottom frame of the bed.
“Here, let me make you more comfortable,” said Belford, as he slid a second pillow below her head.
At first, she thought she was dreaming, but, as things began to come into focus, she started shivering from the cold temperature in the room. She slowly raised her head again, and gasped, as she noticed she was completely naked.
“What have you done?” she shouted, as she dropped her head back on the pillow, pulling and shaking both arms, trying to free herself from her constraints.
“Nothing my darling. You slept well. I didn’t think you would sleep this long,” Belford replied, sitting a few feet from her on a leather Lay-Z-Boy, and smiling.
“Tony, you don’t have to do this,” she said, avoiding being confrontational.
He shouted, “They pushed my hand, it’s not my fault.”
She took in her surroundings, glancing around a rustic wood cabin she found herself in. Leafless trees surrounded the windows, as the wind howled through the small gaps. Ignoring his comment, she asked, “Where are we, Tony?”
“I’m in paradise, looking at you.”
“I’m cold, could you cover me, please?”
Reluctantly, he got up from his chair. From the closet, he pulled a beige wool blanket, “You look beautiful, just like I imagined,” and put it on her.
“How did you drugged me?”
“Rohypnol in your fruit juice, when we left the range. Perhaps, I gave you too much. Sorry about that.”
“You said; they pushed you. Who exactly pushed you?”
“Your ex-boyfriend, that Man-cue-so, guy. His team, and the NYPD,” he said, sitting down again across from her.
The realization hit Marcy, “Oh my God! You’re the serial killer they’re looking for?”
“It’s okay. We’re finally together. So, I have them to thank for that.”
“Tony, you don’t have to do this. We can talk about it.”
“Talk, talk, talk. There’s nothing to talk about. We’re finally together to make love to each other, not to talk about it.”
“Tony, please. Stop this now.”
“How many times have you rejected me? Five times, that’s how many. You’ve never even noticed me. We’re soul mates, Marcy. You’ll see. My love for you knows no boundaries. And, I know you’ll love me back, just as much as I love you.”
Marcy's mouth was dried, she needed to think of her next move. “Can I have some water?”
“Of course,” he replied. Getting up and reaching for a metal container. Raising her head with his left hand, he brought the container with his right to her mouth and poured in some water.
As she dank, water slid from Marcy’s sides of her mouth. Looking at him, she said, “Tony, you need to end this. You know they’ll be looking for me. I was supposed to go on a trip today with my parents.”
He smiled, “We can send them a postcard, and tell ’em; we’re enjoying our honeymoon.”
“Can you turn the heater up? I’m still freezing. Please?”
Marcy saw as Tony got up, shut a window, then walked over to the right side of the cabin, where the gas fireplace was located and clicked on the starter button. Immediately, a blue and yellow flame sprung from the fireplace. “Thank you,” Marcy said. “You said, I rejected you five times. I don’t remember that.”
“Five times I asked you to go out with me socially. All I wanted was to enjoy a romantic dinner and have you get to know me better. And, five times you brushed me aside, like if I was an insect, not worthy of your attention.”
“Tony,” she began still not wanting to be confrontational, “I never meant to hurt you, or, brush you aside. We are co-workers and friends. I have a rule, not to socialize with co-workers.”
“That’s swell, ‘cause we’re no longer co-workers,” he said, sitting back in his chair across from her.
“My five rejections…” she paused, not sure she wanted to asked the question, she went on, “the five victims, are they in any way tied to my rejections?” she asked, closing her eyes, hoping for a negative response.
“I had to gratify my ego after you crushed it each time. See, they didn’t reject me. They wanted to be with me.”
“Oh, my God. But, why kill them?”
“Ah, that’s a long story. Maybe I’ll tell you someday. Are you hungry, my darling.”
Marcy ignored his question. “Where are we?”
“At a friend’s cabin. Nice and private, for us to be together.”
“Those are pictures of your family? she asked, looking at mantel above the fireplace.
“My family, yeah right. I told you, it’s a friend’s cabin.”
“How long was I out?”
“What you really what to know is; how far are we from the city? Right? Well, far enough, and secluded enough, that no one will bother us.”
Marcy needed to make a move. “I need to use the restroom.”
She saw him looked at her, with skepticism. “We don’t want you to have an accident on our honeymoon bed, do we? But, if you try anything, I mean anything, I’ll put you out again. Understood?”
“I just need to use the bathroom.”
He walked over to her left side of the bed, and uncuff her left arm, leaving the cuffs around her hand. Holding her arm behind her back, he reached over with one hand and undid the handcuff from her right
arm. Again, leaving the cuffs on, around her right wrist. Pulling her right arm behind her back, he connected both handcuffs.
Marcy sat up with his help. The top of the blanket fell on her legs exposing her breasts. Her legs were still spread and tied to the bed. She noticed the red satin ribbons he used for her legs. Glancing around the wood cabin, she saw the place was immaculately clean, and everything seemed to be in perfect order. The mantel above the fireplace had a few family pictures; she doubted it was anyone related to Tony. Other nick-knacks adorned the shelf. The small dining table for two, had white plastic doylies, something her mother would have on her table. It was a summer cabin, probably from someone in the city, but, she noticed all the furniture, and adornments were aged. Everything was old as if the cabin had not been updated since the nineteen-nineties. A photo of smiling President Clinton hung from a wall.
Tony came around the front and began untying her left leg momentarily glancing at her breasts. He sighed. Marcy felt very uncomfortable, but, she ignored his glance, planning her move.
“I’m going to need to use my hands in the bathroom,” she said.
He looked at her and smiled. “One hand will have to do. See here, you’re a lefty, so I’ll undo your right hand. Slide over and get on your back.”
Marcy stayed seated, thinking for a moment.
Tony got up raising her left leg with one hand and pushing her back by the shoulders. He then turned her over on her back, exposing her derriere.
“What are you doing!” she exclaimed.
“Nothing yet,” he replied. He took the red satin ribbon, and tied it tight, to her left handcuff. Immobilizing her left arm. He then untied her right leg, leaving the ribbon loose. Sliding her down on the bed, he pulled her up by her shoulders to a standing position. Standing behind her, he embraced her by her breasts and pulled her close to him. She was shivering, not only from the cold but, from the thought of having this animal touching her, as he was.
“I need to go, please Tony.”
He spoke softly, kissing her in her right ear, “I never noticed your little parrot tattoo on your neck.”
“Let go of me!” she exclaimed.
He kissed her ear again, and said gently, “You see darling, this is how it will be. The two of us, as one.”
Marcy moved forward to get away from Belford, then quickly attempted to kick him, using her freed right leg. Belford was too quick for her, still cupping both her breasts, he moved his lower body back, as her kick just brushed his right leg.
“Marcy, Marcy, relax. I’m a patient person. You won’t want to reject me again darling, I promise.”
“Don’t touch me, you’re crazy,” she said, realizing right away that she made a mistake.
Tony quickly turned her around to face him. Marcy could see that his face was now flushed, and red with fury. His eyes were burning with anger. “I’m not crazy, and don’t you ever say that to me again,” he said, so close to her face, she could smell his breath.
She decided to tone it down, “You’re right, and I’m sorry. Now, can I use the bathroom?”
Tony turned her around and held her shoulders, walked her to the restroom, which was just off to the left side of the cabin.
“I need some privacy,” Marcy said, noticing the duffle bag behind the Lay-Z-Boy chair, Tony had been sitting in.
“You can close the door, but, noticed I removed the doorknob. So, don’t try anything stupid, or, I’ll drug you again.”
Marcy sat on the toilet without opening the lid. She needed to calm down and plan her next move. Looking around the small bathroom, she noticed a small window with laced curtains above the tub, a small pedestal sink, on the side; a little basket containing potpourri, a soap, and a couple of hand towels. No medicine cabinet, and nothing she could use as a weapon. Her thoughts wandered off to her parents, and to Joey. What could they be thinking, and how could they find her. She looked at the glass mirror and wondered if she could break the glass and use it as a weapon. Instead, she opened the sink wetted her hand and with the soap wrote on the glass, MM and today’s date. At least she would leave a clue behind.
“Are you done?” Tony’s voice brought her back to the realization of her captivity.
“One more minute,” she replied. Then a plan came together. “Coming out.”
She opened the bathroom door and saw Tony get up from his chair and begin walking towards her. She rushed Tony, like linebacker rushing the quarterback. Her freed right arm folded in front of her, with her elbow pointing outwards. She hit Tony in the middle of his chest with all her might, pushing him back all the way to the opposite side of the cabin.
Tony’s legs got stuck in the area rug in front of the gas fireplace and fell backward into the fireplace. Marcy was able to remain standing, and ran to the duffle bag containing the firearms. She knelt behind the chair and reached for the duffle bag, as she saw Tony get up from the floor with the back of his flannel shirt on fire, rushing towards her.
23
I sat at the conference table with my head down. I was drained. My mind was racing, but, it was like a closed-circuit race, round and round, with no end to it. Where could Belford have taken Marcy? The why, made me feel a little better. If he was obsessed with her, he was not likely to kill her. But, what was he planning to do to her?
Riley MacClenny, our pub manager, stuck his head in our office. I had no concept of time. The pub was already opened, so, it was two in the afternoon, or later.
“Joey, there’s a City inspector here.”
I raised my head, “What?”
“There’s a City inspector here,” Riley repeated.
“What the hell does he want?” I asked, somewhat irrelevantly.
“He says he needs to check licenses,” Riley replied.
I looked up at the ceiling as if asking the heavens, a question, “What the fu, —”
“I got this,” Lucy said. “Don’t worry honey, I’ll send him on his way,” she said, motioning me to stay put.
I turned my chair in the direction of Agnes’ desk area. “Any luck calling the rental agencies?”
Both Agnes and Angela shook their heads. “Nothing yet, Joey,” Agnes replied.
“This bastard is too smart to rent a car under his name. We’re wasting our time with that.”
Angela said, “Nothing else to do at the moment. We’ll keep at it for now.”
Nothing else to do at the moment, I repeated to myself. I looked around the table, Patrick was reading from a file. Victoria was on the phone. Father Dom was looking at the map of the tristate area Agnes had put on a wall. Angela was by Agnes’s desk area, making calls. Everyone was involved in some activity. None of which, I thought, would lead to uncovering where Marcy was being held captive. I kept thinking of the hundreds, maybe thousands of unsolved abductions of women, and children. Some of which would never be solved, and the ones that were; led either to murders of the victims, or, horrible stories of the years spent in captivity. I reached for a waste-paper basket, brought up it to my face, and threw up.
Father Dominic came over, “Are you alright?”
I looked at him, had it been anyone else, I would have answered with a wry remark, but, I held my tongue, and ignored the question. “Brother, I’m at a loss. This son-of-a-bitch has us on checkmate. Anything on the map?”
Dom replied, “Not really, I keep looking for a sign, but, I don’t see anything. I’m assuming he drove for no more the five, or six hours. So, if that’s the case, he’s no more than four hundred miles away, at a max.”
“That’s assuming he drove and stopped somewhere after a few hours. If he resumed the trip this morning, there’s no telling where they might be by now. This is all my fault Dom,” I said, lowering my head.
“That’s nonsense, Joey. You had nothing to do with this.”
“We should have been married by now, and living together. None of this would have ever happened.”
“What kind of illogical conclusion is that? Things happened
to postpone, or delay a potential marriage. Even that would not have stopped this crazy person from acting out, as he has. This Belford is deranged. We’re not dealing with a normal person. So, stop blaming yourself, and start thinking like you do, and let’s solve this case.”
I got up, and hugged Dom, as tears emerged from both my eyes. “I love her brother. I can’t live without her.”
“Yeah? I’ll stop lecturing if you start thinking. We’ll find this bastard, and bring Marcy back safe and sound.”
Victoria had watched Dom and me, from her peripheral vision, as she talked on the phone. She clicked her phone off. “I got some background information on Belford’s upbringing,” she said.
Everyone gathered around the conference table.
“I think we are on to something,” Victoria Stewart began, “Belford was raised by his mother and a stepfather, a Reverend. His father, passed away when Belford was one year old,” Victoria said, looking up from her iPad, and around the table. She proceeded to read a report that had been emailed to her from her office. “Belford ran away from his home at age sixteen. He went to live with his paternal grandparents, after which, his stepfather was charged with sexually molesting him. The case never went to trial, because allegedly, his stepfather killed his mother, before committing suicide.”
“How did they die?” I asked.
Victoria read on, “Six months after being charged, the stepfather shot Belford’s mother in the face, then shot himself in the head.”
Lucy added, “We may have the trigger that led to Belford’s deviant behavior.”
I thought for a second, “Was that how the deaths were, in fact, ruled, a murder, and a suicide?”
Father Dom knowing my inquisitive mind asked, “Why Joey, are you thinking that Belford had something to do with their deaths?”
“Just asking brother. Who knows how long Belford suffered through that. I wouldn’t put it past anyone not wanting to kill their offender. Especially for sexually molesting him.”
Angela inquired, “What about his mother? Would he kill her also?”
