by KJ Kalis
Neither of them said anything until they got to the truck. Van handed Kat the stack of letters. A fight broke out inside of her. She had the urge to tear through all of them right then and there, trying to understand who this Dr. Schreiber was that Dr. Rose was so sure could be a good suspect for their murders. The other part of her was repulsed, knowing that the man who had already killed four people had held the same paper in his hands. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“The police station. We are going straight to the police station.”
There were only a few cars left in the parking lot by the time they pulled in. The day was well on its way toward evening and the on-duty shift was out on the road. Kat had no idea if Detective Dawson was in or if he was out working their case. When they got to the front desk, a different duty officer was sitting behind the computer. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“Is Detective Dawson in?” Van asked.
The woman shook her head no, typing something on her computer and staring at the screen. “He’s out on the road. Can I leave a message for him?”
Van started to say something, but Kat interrupted. “Is Cheryl Morris here?”
The woman nodded. “Yes. She just got back in. Let me get her for you.”
Neither Kat nor Van sat in the plastic chairs that littered the edge of the police station's waiting room. By the looks of them, Kat thought, they weren’t designed to be comfortable. She supposed that if you were waiting on that side of the glass, things weren’t necessarily supposed to be.
Kat heard the electronic lock on the heavy steel door that separated the lobby from the rest of the station pop open. It opened a crack, Cheryl sticking her head out. “Hey, guys? What’s going on?”
Van said, “We brought you something. Is there a place we can talk?”
Cheryl’s expression darkened as if she wasn’t sure how to take Van’s comment, “Sure. Right this way.”
Kat followed Cheryl and Van down the short hallway and back into the same conference room where they had been just two days ago fighting with Detective Dawson. Cheryl flipped on the lights, the fluorescent bulbs offering a quiet hum from the ceiling. She closed the door behind them, “What’s going on?”
Kat looked at her. She was dressed in her full uniform, complete with a tactical vest. It looked like she was ready to go out on the road. “We got a strange call this afternoon from a guy that works for a medical journal in the area. Dr. Erwin Rose. We met him for coffee, and he handed us these,” Kat flipped the stack of letters down on the table. They landed with a thud.
“And these are?” Cheryl asked, without touching them.
Van sighed, “Dr. Rose’s journal gets these letters from a Dr. Joseph Schreiber with his ideas on medical experiments. Dr. Rose reached out to us because he felt that the experiments Dr. Schreiber was proposing seemed a lot like the murders that are happening.”
Cheryl scowled. “I can’t imagine a doctor would want to chop off people’s arms and sew them back on.” Her eyes got big, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have set it like that.”
Van shook his head. “No problem. I was in the Marines. The sense of humor is what gets you through.”
Cheryl pulled out a chair and sat down, still staring at the letters. She shook her head slightly, “Okay, back up the bus. Start from the beginning.”
Kat pulled out a chair and sat down next to Cheryl. “Here’s what we know: Dr. Erwin Rose called us a few hours ago. I guess he manages the intake of ideas for their medical journal — the California Medical Innovations Journal. Experiments, trials, research reviews… stuff like that. While most people submit their information through their website, this guy,” Kat pointed to the letters, “He always sends them through traditional mail. To top it off, he’s not a doctor.”
Cheryl scowled, “What do you mean he’s not a doctor?”
Van paced against the back wall of the conference room. “What Kat means is that he has a doctorate in history. He’s not a medical doctor. He’s a history professor.”
Kat pulled the top envelope off of the stack, the same one she had read in the coffee shop less than an hour before “Here, read this.”
As Cheryl pulled the thick paper out of the envelope, Kat noticed the only noise in the room other than the paper moving and Cheryl’s fingers were the slight ticking of the clock on the wall and the buzz from the fluorescent lights above. It was eerily quiet as if a fog had descended over them, cocooning them with each other and the information from the letters.
A minute later, Cheryl looked up from the letter, “This is creepy. I’m calling Dawson.” She stood up from the table, “Whatever you do, don’t touch the letters anymore. I’m gonna send a forensic tech in here to bag them up.” She opened the door to the hallway, “One more thing, do you think this Dr. Rose will verify these were sent to him?”
Kat nodded. “He already said he would. He also said he would come in for an interview if you needed him to.”
Cheryl nodded, “Why didn’t he just come here first?”
Van chuckled, “He’s a fan of the paper.”
The door had barely clicked behind Cheryl when a young woman wearing square brown glasses, and a blue polo shirt with a badge on it came into the room. “Hi,” the woman set a black toolkit on the table. “I’m Tina. Cheryl said that you have evidence that needs to be bagged and tagged?”
Kat nodded at the letters. “These.”
Tina pulled the chair away from the table, standing up to do her work. “Okay, who all has touched these that you know of?” She blinked at them, “It’s helpful if we know so we can exclude fingerprints.”
Kat looked at her, “I have. Van has. We got these from a guy named Dr. Erwin Rose, so I’m sure his fingerprints are on here as well.”
Tina pulled a tablet out of her toolkit, quickly using the photo function to take a picture of the stack of letters. Kat could hear her tapping on the screen, inputting some information. From the inside of her toolkit, Tina pulled a large plastic bag that had a red stripe at the top of it. She pulled on a pair of black latex gloves, picked up the stack of letters, and stuck them into the bag, pulling the red adhesive strip back and sealing it closed. She signed the bag and took a picture of the finished work. “Okay, we are all set here. Please don’t reopen the bag unless you are with one of our officers or detectives.”
Just as she finished processing the evidence, Cheryl stuck her head back in, “I can’t get a hold of Dawson. I just left a message for him and I’m having the duty officer ping his cruiser. He probably stopped for food. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be right back with you.” She looked at Tina, “Let’s get these people set up to read these letters.”
Tina blinked, “Don’t you want to wait for Detective Dawson?”
Cheryl shook her head, “No. Give them some gloves and the rules of the road and let them get to work. That’s what they’re here to do.”
“But…”
“No, buts, the Chief asked them to be part of the case, so let them do their work.” The door clicked shut behind her.
Tina raised her eyebrows and shook her head. Out of her toolkit, she pulled two sets of black latex gloves, the same kind she had worn when she put the letters in the evidence bag. “All right, let’s do what the boss says. I’m going to reopen the bag. You can feel free to look at the letters and read them to your heart's content, just don’t leave the room.” She pointed to the corner of the room. “The video camera is on and recording, so will have documentation that the letters never left the chain of custody. Please stay in here until either Officer Morris or Detective Dawson comes back, okay?”
Kat nodded. “Thanks. We’ll be careful.”
“It’s not my skin if something happens. I’m going to blame all of it on Morris.” Tina left the room.
The door clicked closed again. Kat pulled on her pair of gloves, scooting the other pair close to Van. “I guess it’s time to do a little reading,” she said.
“Indeed,” he said. �
��What was with that tech?”
Kat shook her head, pulling the stack of letters out of the evidence bag. “I have no idea. Seems like every time we get involved in one of these cases, some people are happy to have help and some aren’t.”
“She was clearly an aren’t,” Van said. “How do you want to approach this?”
Kat glanced at the stack of letters. “Maybe consecutively? Maybe if we lay them out by date, we will have a better idea of how things have evolved.”
“Speaking of time, I’m assuming TJ has Jack covered?”
Kat’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. “Let me send him a text and let him know where we are.” A few seconds later, her phone responded. “Things are fine here. I guess we have baseball tonight. Dillon chewed one of my shoes.”
She had almost forgotten about home for a moment, faced with the information in front of her. She felt torn, pulled between the case and her family. It was a familiar feeling, walking the tightrope between being a good wife and mom, and being the journalist she wanted to be. She glanced at Van, who had already opened a couple of the letters and was scanning them for information. It had to be so much easier for him. Sure, he was a husband and a stepdad, but it seemed like his primary job was to work. The responsibility for the rest was on her shoulders. To some degree, she understood, Jack was hers and not theirs, but she knew Van loved him. Maybe she just felt the weight of the family more than he did. She shrugged and pushed the thought aside, knowing that there was work to do and TJ had Jack handled.
26
After the brief scare with the police car, the rest of the drive back to the shop was unremarkable. Joseph calmed as he drove the last couple miles back to the garage, glancing into the back occasionally to see if either of his newest subjects had woken up. They hadn’t.
A flutter of regret landed in Joseph’s chest. He wished he could have taken them separately. He felt it was much more humane. Piling the two of them into the van just to have their bodies roll and sway from side to side on the ride wasn’t the kind of experience he wanted to give them. He pressed his lips together. Although he didn’t like collecting his subjects in this way, it was necessary. For his last experiment, it’d taken too long to bring Ben and Rebecca into the same spot. At least this way, he could start his experiment as soon as he could get set up.
He visualized the inside of the garage as he drove. For this experiment, he had decided not to use the tables. There were just too many hassles with restraints. In his mind’s eye, he saw the two cages he had set up in the center of the floor. They were close enough together that the two subjects could see each other and share a conversation. There would be no detriment to his results if that was the case. They were also far enough apart that they would not be able to touch each other and therefore influence the results of his experiment. The distance between them also protected Joseph from one of them grabbing him while he was working on the other. You could never be too careful, he thought.
The van hiccupped a little as it bumped over the ridge onto the gravel driveway that led to the shop. The driveway twisted and twined, the branches hanging low and scraping on the roof in a few places. He hoped it didn’t wake them up.
He pulled the van to the front of the shop, backing it up so that the van doors were lined up with the garage door. As the door rose in his rearview mirror, he eased off the brake and goosed the engine just a little bit to get the rear wheels of the van up inside of the garage. He wouldn’t need to go far. Putting the van in park, he turned it off, getting out, but leaving the keys in the ignition. He walked around the back of the van, popping the doors open, feeling a surge of excitement run through him. It was time. It was time to start the next experiment.
He paused for a moment as he looked in the back. Neither of his newest subjects had woken up. That was good. Even if they did, they were restrained and gagged. And, once they were in their cages, there would be nothing they could do. Made of industrial-grade fencing, the cages were too well reinforced for either of them to get loose. Joseph had purchased them online and had picked them up at a warehouse downtown just a few days before. The last thing he needed was one of his new subjects to escape. It would ruin his experiment. That wouldn’t be acceptable.
Joseph decided to move Evan Chapman first. If the young man woke up before Joseph had him in his cage, it could be problematic. Joseph was relatively sure he could wrestle Layne wherever she needed to go, but the young man he was sure was strong, maybe stronger than Joseph himself. Getting him out of the van was likely one of the largest challenges he would face.
Joseph grabbed Evan’s ankles and pulled. His body slid forward on the metal bed of the van. Joseph bent his knees and slung the body up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He struggled a little under the weight, but as he took a few steps into the shop, he found his footing and was able to move him into the cage. He was glad he had left each of the doors open. That was good planning on his part. As best he could, he set Evan’s body down as gently as possible in the far corner of the cage. In the corner, there was a bucket and a roll of toilet paper. It wasn’t the most luxurious way to handle his subject’s bathroom needs, but it was necessary. Although he didn’t mind using catheters, for this experiment, it was better if his subjects were loose. As he set Evan down, he noticed the young man was starting to regain consciousness. Joseph’s heart thumped in his chest. He would have to move quickly, very quickly at this point. Pulling a penknife out of his pocket, he sliced off the duct tape and the gag, fastening a handcuff around Evan’s left wrist. It was attached to a long chain that was secured around an opening in the cage. The opening was small, small enough that he could pass bottles of water and food through it, without worrying that the subject would be able to get at him. Joseph stood up, double-checking his work. He only had a few seconds before Evan was fully awake. Everything was set. He backed out of the cage, closing the door quietly, securing it with a lock.
Onto Layne, he thought. He strode back to the van, half expecting her to be either awake or gone. She was neither. The chloroform he had soaked the rag with had done its work. She was still out cold. He repeated the process he had completed with Evan with the young woman, carefully positioning her in the corner of her cage and tugging her skirt down back towards her knees. Why couldn’t she have worn pants today? He shook his head. Or at least if she were going to wear a skirt, she could have worn a long one like his mother did.
Joseph stepped back from his work, double-checking all the provisions he had made for his next experiment. A small smile crept across his face. Everything was in place. He would start the next experiment as soon as they woke up.
27
By the time Detective Dawson arrived back at the police station, Kat and Van had been working on the letters for nearly two hours. Kat had only left the room one time, to use the bathroom and call TJ. All was well at home. “Yep, we are having pizza outside with the dogs as we speak,” TJ said. She could hear barking in the background. “After we eat, I am sending Jack inside to work on his homework, and I’ll do a perimeter check before I come inside.” Kat smiled. Only TJ would do a perimeter check of their small house, but in this case, she appreciated his attention to detail.
She had just gotten herself settled, opening the next letter — there had to be at least fifty of them in the stack that Dr. Rose had given them — when Detective Dawson came huffing and puffing back into the conference room, his face red, perspiration beading on his forehead.
“What’s going on? The department sent me like twenty-five texts that I needed to hurry up and get back here. I was waiting on the forensics team to finish at Rebecca’s apartment. Their van blew a tire.”
Kat looked up from what she was reading, hearing the breath catch in Dawson’s throat. He was gasping like he had been running, but she couldn’t imagine that he had been. He pulled back one of the chairs and plopped down, his legs sprawled out in front of him like he had just completed a marathon. “A source came through. We may hav
e a lead on who the killer is.”
“What?” Dawson sat up straight in his chair, pulling his feet back up underneath him. “What do you mean? How did this all happen?” He glanced down at the table, his eyes scanning, “What is all this stuff?”
“Letters,” Van said, resting his forearms on the table. “Letters from a guy that could be the killer you’re looking for.”
Dawson reached for one of them. Kat stopped him. “Gloves,” she said, “Tina said we have to wear gloves.”
Dawson glared at her, but it wasn’t the kind of glare that made Kat uncomfortable. It was the kind of glare that told him that Tina was busy bossing everyone around and he didn’t like it. “Yeah, yeah, she’s always on me about the gloves.” He pulled a pair out of his pocket. Every detective Kat ever knew seemed to have gloves in every article of clothing they owned. A hazard of the job, she supposed. Dawson picked up the letter that was closest to him, “Okay, now that I have my gloves on, what are we looking at?”
Van sucked in a breath, “Well, Kat got a call from a Dr. Rose this afternoon. He’s on the board of a medical journal not far from here — the California Medical Innovations Journal. Based on the news reporting, he thinks the letters we have in front of us were written by the killer you’re looking for.”
Dawson frowned, the crags of his face becoming deeper and more pronounced, “Based on what?”
Kat could tell that the cynical side of Dawson had raised his ugly head. Reading the letters over the last several hours made her think that Dr. Joseph Schreiber was a good suspect. Now, she just had to convince Dawson that it was worth his time to look into it. “Start with this letter here,” Kat pushed a letter towards Dawson. “I think you’ll find some of the information in there familiar.”
