Sauk Valley Killer

by KJ Kalis

  “Were you on duty? You didn’t see any of this happening?”

  “I’m sorry to say I was. My boss, he wanted me to keep an eye more on the front and back lobbies of the building, so I usually watch these other camera angles. That’s how I was trained.” He clicked over and showed Dawson eight more camera angles, then looked up, “I think I was doing a walk-through of the building while this was happening.” Sam pointed a finger as large as a sausage at a log sheet and then back at the screen. The times matched. Dawson realized that even if Sam had been in the office, he might not have seen what had happened. In either case, he wasn’t around to help. Whether that was good planning on the killer’s part or dumb luck, he didn’t know.

  Dawson wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know if the big man wanted some stamp of approval that it was okay that he missed the abduction. “Let’s see the other video, please,” he said.

  Sam clicked on the video. “It’ll start again here in a second.”

  Dawson leaned against the desk, suddenly feeling tired. The case was draining him like never before. All of the bodies, all of the damage this killer had done. He swallowed, feeling the bile rise in the back of his throat again. He felt his jacket pocket, wishing for more of the chalky antacids that chased it back where it was supposed to be.

  The next video seemed to have a better angle. Maybe it was the lighting? Dawson squinted. The camera picked up the van again just as Evan Chapman approached his car. The van stopped right behind it. “That can’t be a coincidence,” Dawson muttered. He watched as a conversation started. “Is there audio?”

  Sam shook his head, “No. Just video.”

  Dawson watched as Evan raised his hands in the air as if he were getting angry at the van driver for blocking him in. He saw the man walk to the back of the van and open the doors. From above, he couldn’t see exactly what he was doing. The open van doors blocked the view. Evan followed. Dawson squinted at the screen. From the angle of the camera, he saw two heads and then one. The van doors slammed closed, the van pulling away.

  “Are there any other angles for this one?”

  “I wish,” Sam said. “I’ve watched this one at least a dozen times. Doesn’t seem like you can get the full picture, does it?”

  Dawson shook his head. Something seemed different about Sam. He wasn’t what Dawson expected for someone that just worked as a security guard, not that there was anything wrong with that, Dawson thought. “I appreciate you queuing these up for me. Did you always want to be in security?” Dawson asked, standing back up.

  Sam nodded, “Yeah, I tried to get in the police academy a couple of times. Didn’t happen.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Can’t read all that good. I’ve got dyslexia. Had a hard time passing the written tests.”

  Dawson reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “We need good guys like you. If you’re still interested, give me a call next week. I’ll see if we can get you in the Academy and get somebody to help you get through those tests.”

  A smile sprung on Sam’s face, “Are you serious? What, like a tutor or something?”

  “Naw, not a tutor, although you can get one of those, too. The Academy has different testing options now. If you need to take the test with someone reading the questions to you because of your reading issue, they can do that.”

  Sam nearly launched himself out of his chair, “That’s awesome!” he said, then his face drooped. “What I mean to say is thank you for the opportunity. I’m so sorry about these people that got taken in my building, but I promise I won’t disappoint you. I’ll call you for sure next week.”

  “See that you do…” Dawson said, leaving the office.

  33

  Joseph could wait no longer. His body was filled with a surge of energy knowing his two latest subjects were waiting for him in the shop. Before leaving the house, he took a quick look around. He had cleaned up from dinner, but there was still the stack of grading to do. Joseph glanced toward the door and then glanced back at the grading. He took a few steps across the kitchen and grabbed the stack of papers. Though it wasn’t in his usual experiment process, he decided to bring the papers with him. There might be some time between taking notes on his subjects where he could at least get a few of the essays ready to get back to his students. He glanced down at the cover page of the one on the top, “The Ramifications of the Stratification of Europe Post-World War II.” The title alone barely earned the student a C. He shook his head. When would students begin to take their studies seriously?

  On the walk down to the shop, Joseph used a small flashlight, one that he kept in the kitchen drawer loaded with fresh batteries. Though he knew the trail, the night was moonless and made navigating it that more difficult. He stepped over a rock and began the descent down to the garage. The mist swallowed the night in another layer of darkness and damp. He took two steps down the steepest part of the trail and felt his foot slide, his ankle twisting underneath him. He managed to hold on to the papers he was cradling but landed in a pile sprawled on top of a log. Pain ran up his leg. Could he walk?

  A flame of anger ran through him. Nothing would keep him from completing his experiment. Nothing. He stood up, gritted his teeth, careful not to drop the stack of papers on the ground. It would be difficult to explain to his students why their projects were all muddy. He carefully stepped forward, trailing his left leg behind him. He moved slowly, choosing his foot placements to avoid the stabbing pain in his ankle. The last thing he needed to do was slip and fall again on his way to the shop.

  As he took the last step down onto the level ground where the shop was, the glowing yellow lights peering out from inside the small windows, he felt a sense of relief. He limped to the back door, pushing it open. Both Layne and Evan jumped at the sound of him entering. He smiled through the searing pain in his ankle. They were on edge. That was good. So was he. He didn’t say anything when he walked into the garage. Limping over to the workbench, he set the papers down on the corner, carefully squaring them and leaving them in a neat pile. He went to the sink and washed his hands, scrubbing the mud off his left palm. Grabbing a paper towel from the corner of the sink, he walked over to the cages. “I’m hoping you had a little rest while I was having dinner,” he said. “Are either of you thirsty?” He waited for a moment, studying each of them. Evan had stood up as soon as Joseph entered the shop. He wasn’t by the gate; he was about halfway back in his cage. Joseph knew that if he opened the door for any reason, Evan would likely try to push his way through. Joseph squinted his eyes. There were a few spots on Evan’s cage where the wire had been bent. It hadn’t been that way when he left. Joseph ignored it.

  Layne was curled up in the corner of her cage, just underneath the opening where he could hand them things. Her skirt was pulled down as far as it would go, her legs bent up underneath her. Her eyes were swollen, probably from crying. Part of Joseph felt bad. He didn’t know how to help the people he selected to understand the impact they were making. He had tried earlier, first with Chelsea and Daniel, then with Ben and Rebecca. There was no point. They would never understand what he had been through or what he was trying to accomplish. Few people in the presence of making history did.

  Neither of them had answered him about being thirsty. It didn’t matter. He walked over to the small refrigerator by the workbench and pulled out two cold bottles of water, extending them through the small open area on the side of each cage. As he walked away, he heard the tops from the bottles crack open. That was the only noise in the garage.

  As he stood at the workbench, his left ankle throbbing, he set the pain aside. Joseph bent over and opened a cabinet. When he redid the garage shop, he had taken the time to scrub down all the cabinets and line all the shelves with white shelf liner, the way his mother had taught him to do. It looked sterile, although it wasn’t. It reminded him of what a hospital pharmacy cabinet might look like. He pulled out a vial and two syringes, double-checking the medication type before setting i
t down on the workbench. Allopurinol was the drug he had selected for this experiment.

  One night, while he was up late doing research, he had run across an article about the effects of the drug he held in his hands. While Allopurinol was a powerful medication for people suffering from epilepsy, it also had some unfortunate side effects. Joseph wanted to see what those side effects looked like in person. He just hoped that either one or both of his subjects would have the desired response.

  Joseph uncapped the vial and drew the first dose up into the syringe. He did the same with the second syringe, recapping both of them. He took a deep breath, facing away from his subjects. Now would be the tough part, he knew. Lying might be the only way to get them to cooperate. He hated to do it, but there might be no other way. He felt his father’s eyes on him for even contemplating it. “Lying is the devil's work,” he remembered his father saying. “Sorry, Papa,” he whispered.

  When Joseph turned back to the cages, he tried to exude confidence. He limped first to Layne’s cage. “Ms. Clark, please give me your arm.” Layne looked up at him with wild eyes and pulled in the opposite direction, the shackle on her wrist rattling as she scooted on the floor to the opposite corner of the cage. “Now, don’t make this difficult,” Joseph said, reaching for the chain that attached to her shackle and tugging at it. “One way or the other, you must receive this injection. It’s part of the experiment. It will make you feel better.” His heart seared in his chest as soon as the words came out. It wasn’t true. There would be no feeling better for either of them.

  Layne didn’t move. Joseph shook his head. He had no choice. He gripped the sides of the syringe with his lips so he had both hands free. Using his good leg as leverage, he reached for the chain and pulled. Anger filled him. Layne was dead weight. She started to moan and whine as he pulled her closer, her hand and arm extending out of the hole in the side of the cage, her body pulled to an upright position. “Now, was that so difficult?” Joseph said, draping the chain outside of the cage and stepping on it with his good foot. He didn’t need her pulling away while he was giving her the injection.

  As he secured Layne’s arm, he could feel Evan’s eyes on him and hear the rattle of his shackle. Fighting with Layne would be nothing compared to what he was going to face with Evan, Joseph imagined. Joseph quickly uncapped the syringe, wiped the injection site with an alcohol wipe, and inserted the needle, sending the drug into Layne’s body. As soon as he released her arm, she collapsed back on the floor, crying.

  Joseph tossed the used syringe in a nearby trash can, watching Evan out of the corner of his eye. He limped over to Evan’s cage and then turned around and walked back to the workbench. He knew Evan would fight him. There was no doubt about it. From a drawer, he pulled the stun gun he had used on Evan earlier. It was a last resort, he knew. But he had to deliver the doses at relatively the same time otherwise his experiment would be compromised. That was not acceptable. He slipped the stun gun in his pants pocket and limped back to Evan’s cage, the pain in his leg making him angrier with every step. Evan eyed him like an animal, pacing back and forth. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to do to me, but you are not going to get near me!” Evan yelled. “I’m not like her,” he pointed at Layne. “All she’s going to do is cry. That’s not me, bro. You grabbed the wrong guy!”

  A wave of fury crashed over Joseph. No one would stop his experiments. No one. His memory flashed back to walking to the mailbox and seeing another letter from another medical school sitting on top of bills for electricity and an advertisement for a new cable television system. He remembered holding the letter in his hand, hoping it would be an acceptance, but knowing in his heart it wasn’t. No one had wanted him. No one. The memories piled up like a logjam in his mind. He limped over to Evan’s cage, his jaw set. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He started to pull at the chain, the same way he had done with Layne. Evan reached through the hole and slapped at Joseph. Joseph let go, surprised by Evan’s aggressive behavior. He expected him to fight, but not like that. Joseph stepped toward the cage again grabbing the chain. This time he was not going to let go. Joseph hauled on it, as though he was pulling lines on a ship, hand over hand. Evan grabbed the side of the cage, his fingers like claws, wrapping around the metal. He braced his feet at the base, leaning away from Joseph. For a moment, Joseph thought it would be a stalemate. Evan was just as strong as he was, maybe even stronger. But the rush of blood in Joseph’s ears and his heart pounding in his chest just increased his fury. He gave the chain a jerk, dislodging one of Evan’s hands. Evan went to his knees, still holding onto the side of the cage. Joseph began pulling again. Evan was still on the ground, now sitting, his feet braced against the bottom of the cage. His legs were much stronger than Joseph’s upper body. Joseph knew that wasn’t a fight he would win. Physiological data ran through his head. Lower bodies were always stronger than upper bodies. Evan wouldn’t keep him from his mission, though. Joseph took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his ankle and the pain of the metal chain ripping against the skin on his hands, he braced his good foot against the outside of the cage and gave the chain another yank. Evan lost his grip for a second, his body jerking forward. Joseph whipped out the stun gun from his pocket pulling Evan’s hand just close enough. He jammed the stun gun down onto his hand, the charge of blue light hitting Evan’s skin. The electricity ran through the cage throwing Joseph back against Layne’s cage. Joseph banged his head and slumped to the ground, dazed. He dragged himself to his feet, getting away from Layne’s cage before she tried something. Straightening his glasses on his face, he limped forward. Evan was out cold, his back resting against the back of the cage. Joseph reached into his pocket and uncapped the syringe, pushing the needle right through the fabric of Evan’s shirt and injecting it into his arm. “All of that for nothing,” he spat. “Don’t you understand, you stupid boy! You are part of something important, far more important than your insignificant life. You should be thanking me, not fighting me, you idiot!” Joseph limped away and collapsed into the chair in front of the two cages. He calmly picked up his notebook, opened to a new page and began making notes on his latest experiment. There was no stopping him now.

  34

  Kat was frustrated. She had watched the video that Dawson had sent over from the office building over and over again, her eyes dry from staring at the screen. Although the face shape looked similar to Joseph Schreiber, or at least the man they had seen on the video from the apartment that dumped Rebecca’s body, she couldn’t be sure. She pounded her fist on the kitchen table and stood up, staring at the ceiling. She walked a couple of circles in the kitchen and then decided to go outside. Might as well, she thought. She leashed up the puppy and opened the door so Tyrant could go with them.

  Outside, the night air had descended over the Sauk Valley. It was clear, the stars twinkling like a blanket in the low humidity. The trees in the backyard swayed gently in the breeze. Above her, she could hear birds calling to each other. How could it be so peaceful outside when a killer was running loose, she wondered? It always amazed her that no matter what she was feeling, what kind of problems they had, or what she was facing, that things were calm outside. The trees withstood whatever storm passed over. She hoped she could, too.

  A voice startled her, “You okay?”

  It was TJ. “I thought you went to bed already,” she said, following the tug of the leash as Dillon sniffed the grass and poked his nose at two squirming bugs.

  “Naw. I don’t sleep much.”

  Kat knew that people in the military came back with scars. TJ was one of them, just like she was. Not sleeping was common among them, the memories tending to crowd out any ability to get a good night's sleep, the cries of people they worked with and bonded with interrupting any hope for peace.

  “What’s going on with the case?” TJ sat down on top of their wooded picnic table.

  Kat shook her head, “Not much. The detective sent over a surveillance video from an o
ffice building where it looks like two more people were abducted by the same person. It’s so grainy that it’s hard to see the person’s face. The angles don’t give us much help either.”

  “Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem. Want me to look?”

  Kat shrugged, still wondering if she was doing the right thing to share confidential information, but pushing it out of her mind. They needed help. TJ used to have a military clearance – that had to count for something, she told herself. “Sure. I’ll take all the help I can get.” She tugged on the leash, encouraging Dillon to follow her back into the house and heard the jingle of Tyrant’s collar behind her, the four of them pushing through the back door at nearly the same time, TJ holding it open for Kat and the dogs. Bending over, she unhooked the leash from the puppy, giving him a little scratch on his back as he trotted off. She felt the warmth of Tyrant’s tongue on her leg and turned to see the big dog smiling at her, “You want a treat, don’t you?” Tyrant’s ears perked up. “Okay, you win,” Kat said, reaching into the cabinet above the sink and finding each of them a dog biscuit.

  Kat opened up her laptop and pulled up the video for TJ to see. He pulled up a chair next to her, the chair rattling on the tile. Kat knew that as part of his mission briefs, he had looked at his fair share of grainy video. Navy SEALs were good at finding details about people, she knew that. The smallest detail could be the difference between success and failure of a mission. The SEALs didn’t like to fail – she knew that from being around them. They had a culture of success that was passed down from the first day of their BUDS training. “The first section is the woman, her name is Layne Clark, being abducted.” Kat rolled the video ahead, slowly. TJ watched without speaking.

  Once it was over, he glanced at her, “Show me the second section, please. Then we’ll go back to the first.”