The Ripper of Blossom Valley

by S D Christopher

  The last place we thought to check was the well behind Billy's house. We would toss coins down there sometimes, and Vin would make believe he was about to fall in. It was hilarious, until he almost fell in for real one time. I had to grab his leg, and he walked with a limp for about a week after that. We must've all stared down into that well for an hour. None of the coins we tossed down there changed the fact that Vin was gone.

  ----------

  Over the next few months, I got to know some of the police officers who were trying to find Vin. They were nice, and seemed to know what they were doing, but there were literally no leads. It seemed like Vin just up and vanished. They interviewed almost everyone at school, Mo and Jerry at the store across the street, people who were in the neighborhood that day, all his friends, even his doctors, our extended family, everyone he knew. For all the effort, they had zero leads. I could sense their frustration, and their sadness when they had to move onto other cases. Vin's had gone cold.

  As hope faded, it took a toll on my folks. Ma got really protective of me, but barely talked anymore, and when she did, it was to yell at me for not being more careful. She'd never let me go anywhere alone anymore, and if I was with friends, she wanted at least three of us together.

  Pa was worse. He didn't talk much before Vin vanished. Now he was practically a mute. He drank more often, and almost lost his job at the plant. Ma threatened to leave if he didn't stop. I never found out where I would've wound up, cuz he eventually got his shit together. But he was never the same after that. None of us were.

  I didn't hang out in the treehouse as much. It reminded me too much of him. The rest of the guys still did, and I found out awhile later that Mary Beth eventually caved. Freddie, Bobby, and Billy described in detail how spectacular they were. I didn't even care at that point, and only found out from her years later that she didn't do it with me around because she liked me and would've been embarrassed to show them while I was there. So Vin was right. He did smell something between us.

  One of my new routines after that would be to head down to the police station and chat with Detectives Rodriguez and Miller. They had led the investigation, and even though Ma and Pa gave them a hard time for not finding him, I built a strong bond with them. I would share everything I knew about Vin with them, and they always listened. I would also push my theory that he was kidnapped, and it had something to do with his sense of smell.

  "We've talked to that Doctor Jennings, Frankie. He was more upset that he lost an interesting patient than anything else, but he checks out." I always liked detective Miller, but he seemed too trusting sometimes.

  "Frankie, kids just go missing sometimes. Some run away, others are taken by family members in custody disputes, a few by strangers. We're going with the latter in this case, and that makes it a million times harder to find him." But I knew Detective Rodriguez was still trying in his spare time, and I appreciated it more than I could say.

  "I know, it's just weird that he disappeared not long after they started checking out his sniffer."

  "If you ever wanna join the force someday, Frankie, you need to remember that correlation does not equal causation. There is such a thing as coincidence. We have to objectively look at the evidence and theorize based on what we know as fact and give less weight to speculation or opinions."

  Detective Miller countered. "Right, though there's also a human element to all of it, like having a good hunch, based on your experiences. Being able to read people, tell when they're hiding something or flat-out lying, working on them until they break. It's half art, half science, really." If I ever wanna join the force someday. Not likely, I thought.

  Their Captain assumed Vin just ran away, but Rodriguez and Miller weren't convinced. They'd scoured the bus terminals, train stations, even the airport and ferry terminal, and none of the workers that day noticed a kid matching Vin's description. They even reviewed what little security camera footage they could get ahold of, which wasn't much back then. Nothing. They were leaning towards a stranger picking him up as he crossed the street between school and the store, but even that had holes, since no one had seen anyone sitting in a car nearby, or circling the block. Still, there's not usually much foot traffic near the school at that time of day, except for kids going back and forth between school and the store.

  So there the case stood, for over a year. My visits to Miller and Rodriguez became a less common stop on the way home from school. Life began to return to something vaguely resembling normal, as normal as it could be with only three quarters of our family intact. Until one afternoon, when I got the phone call that changed the course of my life forever.

  I was home alone about an hour after school ended, doing some math homework. Ma was at the store, pa still at work. When the phone rang, I assumed it was for my folks. I took my time getting up to answer it. As I got to the phone, it stopped ringing. I turned back towards the dining room table, but halfway there, there was that ring again.

  "Hello?"

  "...Frank?" a weak voice whispered. I almost couldn't place it at first, but there he was, a ghost from the past. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

  "Who...Vinnie?"

  "Frank...I need help. I escaped, but they're after me." His voice was labored, like he'd been running.

  "Who's after you? Where are you?!?!"

  "Shit, they’re here!" I heard some muffled noises as he fidgeted with the phone, then I was sure I heard him say Dr. Jennings' name before dropping the receiver and running off.

  "Vin?! ...VINNIE!!!" All I could do was listen, helplessly, while I heard two men shouting, and Vin yelling for help. Then came the gunshot, followed by silence. My heart was in my throat. I held the phone in shock, until I finally heard some more muffled noises, then a click from the other end of the line.

  I ran to the police station and spewed everything I could remember to Rodriguez and Miller, every detail, every sound. They were skeptical for about a second.

  "You're sure you heard him say Dr. Jennings?"

  Was I? It was muffled, so it was the thing I was least certain about. But it had to be. "Yeah, I'm sure. One hundred percent." They leapt into action, arranged a ride home for me, and went to his office.

  I told Ma and Pa everything I knew, too, but they were less convinced. They had just started healing, and here was this little shit telling them there was hope, and it may have just been snatched away. Pa yelled at me and retreated to the den. Ma just cried at the dinner table, and I felt like a choad for saying anything.

  The next day I felt even shittier. Miller and Rodriguez told me that Dr. Jennings had left the office months ago, and was practicing in San Jose now. They'd reached out to the SJPD, and they didn't even have a file on him. They went to talk to him, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The guy was squeaky clean.

  Months later, I read in the paper that Detectives Miller and Rodriguez were killed pursuing a drunk driver, hit head-on by a pickup truck during the chase. It seemed random, but I couldn't shake the feeling that their follow up on Dr. Jennings had something to do with it. Even in my own head, this sounded like crazy conspiracy theory bullshit. This time, I kept it to myself.

  ----------

  Pa was upset a few years later when I told him I was joining the force, instead of following him to the plant. He eventually told me, years later, how proud he was of me for doing such honorable work. It was one of the few kudos I ever got from him, and it meant the world to me. It broke Ma's heart, though. Here I was, her only remaining son, putting himself in harm's way on a daily basis. No matter how often I reassured her, she would always worry. That was her job, I realized, so at some point, I let it go.

  They were less happy when I told them I was transferring to San Jose a few years later. "A big city? And on the other side of the country? I don't like it, Frankie." I convinced Ma it was one of the safest big cities in the country, but it took awhile for her to return to threat level orange. She stayed at red for the whole first year I was out there. I wa
s sure to call every other day, at a minimum.

  It didn't take me long to start digging into Dr. Jennings once I was comfortable in my new setting. My partner, Mike Doyle, didn't understand why I was poring through seemingly random files. I explained them away easily enough, but he just shook his head. "Foley, you're nuts. We take our orders from Captain Phillips, and say things like, 'Yes, sir' and 'Thank you, sir,' and we keep our noses to the ground." This was the type of shit he used to say to me. One day, I drove by Jennings' office three or four times, then started rummaging through his trash in the alley. Doyle had a field day with that one. "Are you crazy, trying to dig up dirt on someone who isn't under any kind of investigation? If Phillips finds out you're going rogue, we get assigned to crossing guard duty."

  "You can kiss the Captain's ass all you want, Doyle. I'll do what I need to. If it makes you weak in the knees, I'll do it on my own time from now on." I stuffed a phone bill with ketchup stains on it into my pocket as he shook his head and surely wondered what he did to deserve getting stuck with a partner like me.

  I proved my worth to him as a partner not long after that, which helped him chill out a little. We had pulled this guy over for a routine traffic stop, and when Doyle went to talk to him, I could sense the driver was nervous. I snuck up on the passenger's side just in time to stop him from reaching for the gat he had tucked between the seat and the center console. That was the first of about a dozen times I saved his life over the years, which convinced him to give me plenty of leeway both as my partner and, years later, as my superior.

  He stopped complaining about my prying into Dr. Jennings, and didn't make a stink whenever I'd drive by his office. "Why are you so wound up about this guy, anyway?"

  "We go way back, him and me. That phone bill I swiped from his trash raised some interesting questions about his business dealings." He never asked for more detail, so I didn't share any.

  I cashed in my life-saving karma with Doyle one night while we were on patrol. I noticed someone familiar leaving a warehouse with a briefcase. The warehouse was on a list of places I'd been casing, since one of the phone numbers on the doctor's bill was registered to this address. Doctor Jennings hurried with the briefcase to his car.

  I was determined to get into the warehouse. "No way, Frank. You know we can't go in there without a warrant. Anything we find would be inadmissible in court."

  "I'm not looking for Exhibit A, Mike. I need some more solid leads to follow up on."

  He stepped between me and the door. "Frank, you're walking a thin line here, man. Phillips finds out, and you're done."

  "How's he gonna find out? You gonna tell him?"

  He looked hurt. "No, of course not. But I'm not letting you take me down with you, wherever you're going with this. Let's do this the right way. Talk to this guy. You're the best I've ever seen at getting in their heads. Let's go pick him up for something and make him sweat it out down at the station."

  I looked back and forth between the warehouse and Jennings' car pulling away. "Fine." We followed him instead, and I sensed right away that he knew he was being tracked, and he was panicking. "Shit."

  "What?" I flipped on the rollers and flashed him to pull over. Instead, he sped away. "I guess he feels pretty guilty about something. Let's make this quick, Frank."

  I caught up to him and tapped his rear quarter panel, which caused him to lose control a bit and spin out. I thought he'd stop, get out, and run. Instead, he tried to regain control and speed off again. The utility pole in front of him had other ideas. "Fuck me."

  We ran to his car, but noticed immediately that he'd smacked his head on the windshield. Idiot wasn't wearing a goddamn seat belt. The coroner's office said later he'd died on impact. "Shit, Frank. I'm gonna call it in."

  I grabbed his arm. "Mike, he ran a light, and we pursued. Right?" I looked into his eyes, pleading with my own. It was a request, not an order.

  "...Right." He considered us even after we gave matching statements. Neither of us mentioned the briefcase that we confiscated from the car.

  We still got a reprimand for pursuing without informing HQ, but as the driver, I got more than the slap on the wrist that Doyle got. While I was home serving some well-deserved unpaid time off, I tried to examine the contents of the briefcase, but that damn Haliburton was near impossible to open without the key.

  On the third day of my "vacation" I got a cryptic phone call. "Mr. Foley, we believe you have something that does not belong to you."

  What the fuck? "Who is this?"

  "Dr. Jennings did good work, and now you've cut that short. At first, we thought it might've been an accident. But then we made the connection. Don't worry, your brother didn't suffer." For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was speechless. "Now that you know enough about who we are, leave it be, Mr. Foley. We can create accidents just as easily as you."

  "You motherfucker! I'm gonna hunt you down, and--" Before I could even get my entire tirade out, he'd hung up. I hit star 69 about a hundred times that night, before someone finally picked up and asked why I was calling a pay phone.

  I turned my attention back to the briefcase. Captain Phillips confiscated my gun and badge, or else I would've shot the damn thing up. I crowbarred it open instead. There were some papers, mostly with medical mumbo-jumbo I couldn't make heads or tails of. But one had a list of names, each with some kind of classification beside them, that I couldn't decipher. Vin's name was on it.

  With Jennings dead, I had no one to follow up on, just a short list of phone numbers with no names or anything else attached to them, and a list of names with no context. I even went back to that warehouse on my own one night. It was cleared out. It was frustrating as shit to know I was onto something, but without any idea what, and without any real proof of anything.

  I tried to find some of the names on the list. Most of them were hard to track down, especially since I didn't know anything about them other than their names. I can't tell you how many Mark Smiths there were in San Jose, but suffice it to say there were a lot. It took a year to find the first person that I was fairly sure was a name on the list. Or should I say, I found his family. Nick Markowitz had been killed a few months prior in an accident at the factory where he worked. I didn't push my luck too much, questioning them as to whether he was different in some way. Of course, they said. He was manic depressive. I could tell they weren't anywhere near over it yet, any more than I was over Vin, so I let them be.

  Markowitz had a few run ins with the law before his accident, so I read the reports. A couple for disturbing the peace, one for simple assault. Witnesses said he seemed normal until something set him off. His friends and family gave statements about how he was normally such a kind, gentle person, and they had no idea what had happened to make him snap.

  One night, after a few days of reaching out to some of the officers and witnesses in the reports, I received a phone call. It was Ma. She was crying. "It's your father. There was an accident at the plant." I instantly remembered that voice on the phone from over a year prior. “We can create accidents just as easily as you." It was them, it had to be. No coincidences here.

  I had Ma move out to San Jose to live with me not long after that, where I could protect her. As much as it pained me, I had to stop trying to hunt down the people responsible for Vin's disappearance and death, and dad's so-called "accident." I had to let Ma live out the rest of her years in peace.

  Chapter 25

  Maiko

  My God. I had no idea. I wonder how much of that whole story he’d intended to share when he started. He kept this all buried for so long, it must have been eating him up inside. No wonder he never wanted to commit to marriage or kids. There are a lot of things I want to ask him once we’re alone again. Why didn’t he just tell me, instead of hiding it all from me? I might've understood.

  "I'm sorry I never brought any of this up before. It was...too painful." He must be sensing what I'm feeling. He looks at me in a way he never has before,
ashamed, fragile, completely open. And unburdened.

  "These people who took Vince, do you think they're involved in any of this?"

  His eyes can't even meet mine. He just shakes his head. "I thought they might be, at first, but they haven't shown up on my radar in years. When I stopped investigating them, it's like they slithered back into whatever hole they came from, and we had some sort of unspoken agreement, like if I left them alone, they’d do the same. Who knows if they even exist anymore. Anyway, I've got some dirt on them tucked away in a safe place, in the event they do rear their ugly heads again." He scans the room, wondering how the others will react to all this. "Uh...what the hell's wrong with him?"

  Frank’s tale was so gripping, we never even noticed that Bob had a glazed over look on his face, and he was drooling. Did he just have a stroke?

  Dr. Gibson fretfully walks over to him and gently gets him to sit in a chair. We help, since he's a pretty big guy. "I was afraid of this when I brought him here, but it's nothing, really. He's fallen into a memory slip. We've been working on it during our sessions, but he still occasionally falls into this trance-like state, where he relives some memories in his mind and becomes detached from his surroundings." Ok, but you could at least wipe the drool from his chin. I had better bedside manner with my mice, and they were, well...mice. I take the lead on wiping his chin, as Izzy stares at him.

  "It's nothing? It definitely looks like something, mija."

  Dr. Gibson either doesn't hear or ignores Izzy's remark, turning her attention back to Frank. "Your brother, he was clearly a Sensitive, too. But nowhere in your account did you mention when you became aware that you were an empath."

  Frank shrugs. "There was no single moment, really. I've been like this my whole life, as far back as I can remember, anyway. For most of my childhood, I thought it was normal, that everyone felt this way, until I realized I was picking up on things others weren't. I just seemed to be tuned into the emotions of anyone around me, but I always chalked it up to being able to read body language or other shit, visual and audio cues and whatnot. For the longest time, I just thought I was paying closer attention than everyone else. As I got older, my range grew. Once I realized I was picking up on emotions from people I couldn't even see, I accepted that this was something different, like what Vin had." He must've been terrified.