Sauk Valley Killer

by KJ Kalis

  Stephanie tilted her head to the side, pressing her lips together, “I don’t know. I know that Cheryl and the police chief get along well, that’s why she had all the information in front of her. It wouldn’t surprise me if she gives him a heads up that Dawson isn’t cooperating.”

  “Is that going to cause a problem?” Kat’s stomach clenched into a ball. How would the chief feel about them going around Dawson? She shook it off. The reality was that Stephanie’s niece was dead, her boyfriend was dead, and two more people were missing. Sauk Valley was in danger. They needed all hands to the wheel to protect the community. If it ended up ruffling some feathers in the meantime, so be it. The thoughts didn’t help the knot in Kat’s stomach go away, even though she knew that Van was right to move ahead with the investigation.

  “Could be,” Van said. “It depends on how difficult Detective Dawson wants to be.”

  Kat stopped to think for a minute. Van was right. The reality was that people’s lives were on the line. She shuddered, wondering what Rebecca and Ben were going through. “I’m in. I think this one’s going to be tough, but we need to do it for the community.”

  The group spent the next couple of minutes dividing up tasks. Since Stephanie was still helping with the funeral plans for Chelsea, her role would be more in the background. Kat and Van would take the lead. Stephanie would provide them information as she could get it from Cheryl or from any other contacts in the police department she could find. She was going to work the phones, in other words.

  As they left, Kat hugged Stephanie, “Let us know if you need anything, anything at all,” she said.

  “I will. Right now, what I need are answers.”

  16

  Kat slid into the seat next to Van in his truck. “You ready?” Van said.

  Kat nodded. “Where are we going first?”

  “How about if we start from the beginning and hit Daniel Arthur’s house?”

  The drive to Mr. and Mrs. Arthur’s house didn’t take long, even by California standards. As they pulled up in front, Kat noticed the house looked like it had been neglected for a long time. The shrubs in front were overgrown, covering the windows on the one-floor house. Though the grass had been cut, no mulch had been put in the flowerbeds, no flowers planted. The white paint on the exterior was peeling in some spots, stained in others. It looked neglected.

  Kat slid out of the passenger seat, her feet landing on dry grass. It crunched as she stepped forward onto the sidewalk. She stared at the house for another moment, then turned and walked up the driveway. Hanging on the front door was an old grapevine wreath, covered in dried flowers that looked like they had been picked at by birds and bugs. Kat pressed her lips together and knocked on the door. A few moments later, she heard footfalls from the inside of the house. A woman, dressed in a bathrobe even though it was nearly lunchtime, answered the door, a tissue in her hand, “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you. Are you Mrs. Arthur?” Kat said.

  The woman nodded, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. By her puffy face, it was clear she had been crying, “I am.”

  Kat glanced back at Van. “I’m Kat Beckman and this is my husband Van Peck. We are friends with Stephanie Vincent, Chelsea Atkinson’s aunt. May we come in?”

  Kat held her breath for a minute, wondering if the woman would allow them to enter. After all, she didn’t know them. She had no idea why they were at her house.

  The woman nodded and stepped back from the door, “Sure.”

  The interior of the house was marginally cleaner and more updated than the exterior. It smelled like pine-scented floor cleaner, as if someone had cleaned the house in the last few hours. The walls were painted in a pale blue, with furniture that matched. It didn’t look like California. Kat wondered if the Arthur family had come from another part of the country, just like she and Van had. “We are so sorry to disturb you, but we wanted to talk to you a little bit about your son.”

  “I’m sorry, who are you again?”

  Kat wondered for a moment if Stephanie’s sister was this disoriented. As she glanced about the kitchen, she saw a pile of dishes in the sink and a couple of plants with cards nearby on the counter. “Of course, we are friends of Chelsea Atkinson’s aunt. She was Daniel’s girlfriend, correct?”

  Mrs. Arthur sunk into one of the kitchen chairs nearby, wrapping the red floor-length robe around her legs more tightly. “Yes, Chelsea. She was a lovely girl.” She dabbed at her eyes again and blew her nose, “What did you want to know?”

  Van sat down in the chair next to Mrs. Arthur’s. “My wife and I have been asked to help with the investigation.”

  “Are you detectives?”

  Van shook his head. “No. We are journalists. We work with Stephanie, Chelsea’s aunt. The Chief asked us to come in and help because we’ve had success with cases like these before. Is it okay if we talk to you for a few minutes?”

  Kat waited. She knew it was a sensitive situation. When she did speak, there was an eerie stillness between Mrs. Arthur’s words as if she weren’t connected to reality. It seemed like she was floating in the ether and it took time for her words to land back on Earth. Kat felt prickles in the back of her neck. At any moment, it seemed that Mrs. Arthur could either explode and tell them to leave, or crumble into a million pieces, not able tell them anything at all.

  “I guess. Call me Danielle.”

  Kat took that as a positive sign that Mrs. Arthur would allow them to call her by her first name. “How long were Chelsea and Daniel dating?”

  Danielle cleared her throat. “For the last couple of years, since they were about sixteen. Chelsea was a lovely girl,” Danielle dabbed at her eyes. “I’m so sorry this happened to both of them. I just don’t understand.”

  “I’m not sure any of us do,” Kat said. “That’s why we are here.” She covered Danielle’s hand with her own, surprised at how cold it was. “Can you think of anyone who had been following Daniel around? Anyone who had been threatening, any issues with teachers, coaches, or people in the neighborhood?”

  Danielle seemed to crumple in her chair, “I’m sorry, no one. Daniel wasn’t a great student, but he managed to get through his classes. He wasn’t a troublemaker.”

  Van leaned back in the kitchen chair. “How about other kids? Any issues with them?”

  Danielle shook her head no.

  “Where was Daniel supposed to be going when he disappeared?” Van said.

  Danielle sniffled a bit and said, “He was going to basketball practice. I think he made it there, but he never made it home after that… I’m sorry, I don’t have any other information.”

  Kat raised her eyebrows at Van, letting him know that she thought they had hit a dead end. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Danielle so much that they couldn’t come back. Working with a source could be challenging, not knowing when to push for more information or when to back off. “Okay. Thank you so much for your time. We’ll let you know if we find anything out.” Kat stood up and walked to the front door, Van following.

  Outside, as they walked to the truck. Van shook his head, “Well, that wasn’t helpful.”

  “She seemed really out of it,” Kat said. “I feel bad for her.”

  As Van started the truck and pulled away from the curb, he said, “I do, too. I don’t think she’s going to be a good source. How about if we try going to Ben Boyd’s house?”

  Kat nodded. Van’s idea to go to Ben’s house was a good one. They knew from the basic information they had gotten from the police chief and Cheryl that Ben had a wife and two small kids. She was likely to be home. It would be more difficult to track down information about Rebecca. Cheryl said she didn’t have any family and lived alone.

  When they pulled down the street Ben lived on, Pioneer Trail, they noticed there were cars parked all along the side of the road. “Think that’s all at Ben’s house?” she pointed.

  Van shook his head. “I don’t know. If all those people are at his house, it’s g
oing to be hard to interview his wife.”

  Kat’s mind raced ahead, imagining fighting her way through a throng of supporters to get information about Ben. She imagined the wife sitting on the couch sobbing, people handing tissues to her. Not that she wasn’t sympathetic, but she and Van had a job to do. It could potentially be harder with a bunch of people at the house. They didn’t have a choice, though. They had decided to pursue the case.

  “Do you remember the name of Ben’s wife?” Kat asked as she got out of the truck.

  “Stephanie said her name is Catherine.”

  Ben Boyd’s house was virtually the opposite of the Arthur’s. The front lawn was neatly trimmed, and so were the bushes, a fresh coat of mulch surrounding the edges of the house. There were pots of flowers by the front door, and a friendly wreath hung from a brass hook. Kat knocked. Almost immediately, someone came to the door. “Hello, we are looking for Catherine Boyd. Is she here?”

  The woman who answered had a mug in her hands, the steam curling just above the lip. “She is. Who are you?”

  Kat sized the woman up. She was the gatekeeper. Probably a friend of Catherine’s. “I am Kat Beckman, and this is my husband Van Peck. The police chief sent us.” She hoped that the magic words of the police chief would give them entry.

  The woman stepped back from the door, “Come on in. She’s in the family room.”

  Kat looked at the house as she stepped inside. She heard the click of the door close and felt the warmth of Van’s body behind her. The house was a ranch, a little bigger than the Arthur’s house. The walls were painted in a neutral gray with colorful rugs on the tile floor. Kat could smell the scent of food coming from the kitchen as they followed the woman who had greeted them at the door to the family room. As they passed a set of steps, Kat saw a pile of toys and children’s books. She remembered that the police chief had told Van that Ben had two small kids. Kat shuddered for a moment, wondering how Catherine Boyd had that conversation with her children. Unless they were babies, which she didn’t think they were, it would be hard for them to understand why their dad hadn’t come home.

  In the kitchen, there was a circle of couples around the island, a smattering of dishes and bowls filled with what looked to be fruit salad and casseroles. There were windows across the back of the house that led out to a lawn. Kat could see a swing set and a small garden. To the right, the family room unfolded in front of them. The room was carpeted and comfortable, a basket of toys pushed into the corner. The television on the wall was on, but the volume was turned down low. Kat couldn’t hear what the reporter was saying. On the couch, sat a small woman. She was unremarkable in how she looked, someone that Kat would pass on the street and not even notice. Medium build, medium brown hair, nothing out of the ordinary.

  The woman that had opened the front door spoke. “Catherine, the police chief sent these people to talk to you.”

  Kat stepped forward, “Catherine, I’m Kat Beckman, and this is Van Peck. The police chief asked us to assist in the investigation into your husband’s disappearance. Could we talk to you for a few minutes?”

  Catherine frowned for a moment, knitting her brows together. “You aren’t dressed like police officers.”

  A pit formed in Kat’s stomach. They were treading a fine line because they couldn’t get the cooperation of Detective Dawson. “That’s correct. We aren’t. We are investigative journalists.”

  “Journalists? I don’t want to talk to any reporters.”

  A couple of the people standing nearby were staring at them. Based on the looks they were getting, Kat knew things could go badly very quickly. A few people had moved toward the edge of the room. They seemed to be listening, circling Catherine. Lots of times people didn’t want to talk to reporters. All they could think of were the scandals that so many news outlets put out without permission. “You are welcome to call the police chief,” Van said quietly. “I can assure you, we are not here to cause any trouble. We have a very personal stake in this story, so we will make sure it is handled correctly.”

  Catherine’s eyes narrowed. She was a lot savvier than Kat had expected. “What do you mean by that?”

  Kat cleared her throat. “A good friend of ours – she’s Van’s assistant – her niece was one of the first bodies found. Chelsea Atkinson.”

  Van nodded. “Stephanie Vincent, her aunt, works for me. We’ve become close, almost like family. We just left her.”

  Kat hoped that the idea they had a personal stake in the story would be enough to get Catherine to talk. If she didn’t, they would be back to square one, with no leads. A lump formed in her throat. No leads with a serial killer on the loose was a scary place to be. She swallowed hard, waiting for Catherine to respond.

  Catherine looked away for a moment as if she were processing her options. Kat didn’t know what to do, so she stayed silent and glanced at Van. He was watching Catherine and the people around her. No one spoke. In the silence, Kat could hear a murmur from the television. She looked up to see pictures of Chelsea and Daniel flash across the screen. One of Catherine’s friends quickly went over and changed the channel.

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you, but if any of this information is misused, I will sue you. Know that.”

  Kat blinked. The force with which Catherine spoke reminded Kat of a mama bear whose children have been threatened. In a way, they had. Catherine Boyd was the opposite of Danielle Arthur, in every way. If they had met under other circumstances, she and Catherine might just be friends.

  Van sat down in a chair near Catherine that had been vacated by one of her friends who had gotten called to the kitchen. “We are just here to gather basic facts. We are not interested in speculation.”

  Catherine straightened on the couch, folding her legs underneath her. “What do you want to know?”

  Kat found a seat in a chair on the other side of Catherine, opposite Van. With their interview underway, most of the people standing near her had moved out, all except the woman who had answered the door. She was hanging back against the wall, like Catherine’s bodyguard, ready to pounce at a moment's notice and kick them out the door. The tension was thick. “Can you start at the beginning? Maybe tell us about Ben’s work and where he was employed?” Kat pulled a notebook out of her pocket. “We have a lot of the information from the police chief already, but it would be good to hear it from you.” As if proving her point, Kat said, “He works for the college?”

  Catherine nodded. “Yes. He’s the Chief of Maintenance for the Statler building. That’s at Grand Ridge College. He’s been there forever. He was a student there for a time but discovered that college classes weren’t for him.” Catherine glanced around the room, “You’re probably wondering how we can afford this nice house, given Ben’s work. I work part-time as an attorney, but Ben also has a side job where he does remodeling and additions. He makes good money doing it, and it works out well with his night schedule at the college.”

  Kat nodded. Understanding more about Ben’s work helped her to put the pieces together. Their house was nice, considerably nicer than Daniel Arthur’s house. Her mind turned back to Danielle briefly, wondering if she was still sitting in the same red velour bathrobe on the couch. Danielle was shattered. Catherine was not. Catherine was a fighter. “Can you tell us about his disappearance? What happened?”

  Catherine stood up and started to pace. “Everything was normal. I was on a conference call with a client when Ben left for work. He waved and mouthed ‘I love you,’” Catherine paused, letting the words settle. “Things were fine. I got a text from him at around seven o’clock that he had a new job to go bid on the next morning. He was excited about it. It would be a bigger job than usual — an entire first floor remodel for a large home up in the hills.”

  The houses in the Sauk Valley hills were bigger than most of the homes in the community, sprawling ranches and multi-story homes owned by entrepreneurs and business executives, many of them in the tech industry. Kat knew that landing a job to remodel one
of those houses could be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Her mind wandered for a moment. Could one of Ben’s former clients have taken him?

  Catherine continued. “The text I got from him that night was the last one I got. He didn’t show up at home the next morning. I kept calling his cell phone but didn’t get an answer. I called his boss and they found his car in the parking lot. His cell phone was found in the hallway. That’s totally unlike him. I don’t understand what happened.”

  Van cleared his throat. “Is there any possibility someone was unhappy with his remodeling work? Do you have any thoughts on where he would’ve gone or if someone was angry with him?”

  Kat could tell Van was treading lightly by the way that he phrased his questions. They were gentle, if not conciliatory. It was like he wanted to make sure Catherine knew that they were on her side, which they were, even if she didn’t know it.

  “No,” Catherine shook her head. “Ben was always incredibly careful to complete a job and make sure the customers were happy. His only source of business was referral. He didn’t advertise or anything. Didn’t even have a website. I finally bought him business cards a few months ago, and we were talking about hiring someone, like a website developer, so he could be online…” The words drifted off. Catherine sat back down on the couch pulling her knees up to her chest. She was far away.

  Kat watched and waited, not sure what to say next. “So, it sounds like everything was fine until he went to work at the college.” Kat hoped that her comment would help Catherine to open up again.

  Catherine nodded. “It was. You know, he didn’t really need to do that job at the college anymore. I kept telling him he should quit. He only held onto it because of the health insurance. It covered our whole family. It was really good insurance, too…”

  Interviewing people who were going through a traumatic experience were some of the hardest to pin down, Kat knew. “You think the trouble was at the college then?”