Nicole came over to me and shyly asked, “Melanie, would it be okay if Matt and I went up to the hills together?” I looked forward to the idea of being with the children so I nodded approvingly. I then thought about doing some research involving what the Russian girl had talked with me about so, in order to be undisturbed that evening, I suggested, “You know, you have been busy lately…why don’t you and Matt stay overnight?” Matt turned and smiled and Nicole perked up and grabbed me around the waist, almost kissing me but catching herself, and thanked me. The children and I were not even finished eating when Matt and Nicole excused themselves to get ready to leave.
Once Matt and Nicole had departed on their adventure I got the children ready for some reading lessons and time in front of a wildlife documentary. I loved teaching them and took pride in the fact that while their peers were probably just learning a few letters of the alphabet, my children, or I should say all of Matt’s oldest children, were reading books designed for second and third graders. After lunch they all went outside to play and I placed the baby in the downstairs crib and switched on the computer.
In my email I noticed my father had written me. This time his letter had a proposition – that we all visit him at his house in the English countryside. He said he had enough room and that he would love to meet his grandkids. I chose not to answer immediately…I usually responded to his mails only after I had some time to carefully think about the content. This time would be no different, and while I did not yet wish to meet with him, I wondered if it would be nice for the children to meet their grandfather.
I then turned my attention to researching into the specifics of the sex trade. As there was not much dealing specifically with Portland, except for history, I decided to call Detective Sanger and schedule an appointment.
When I had her on the line she seemed friendly enough at first and said she would be glad to meet with me. I then asked, “By the way, Mrs. Sanger, I was wondering…I was talking to someone the other day from Russia who is in search of her missing sister; I am wondering if there is anything you can do to help?” Her response surprised me, “Mrs. Lindberg, I get this sort of thing all the time. I would be happy to assist but if, by some chance, this woman’s sister is involved in the sex business it is virtually impossible to find her – besides, if it is her choice she probably does not want to be found, and if it isn’t then, well, you get the picture.” The tone of her voice seemed either to betray a bit of frustration, or hostility, I could not tell which. Yet we set an appointment for two days later – Friday.
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful – I fixed dinner, got the kids all tucked into bed and relaxed in front of the computer. I first opened up my legislative mail to get in contact with Katja and ask for a copy of her sister’s picture, figuring I would try showing it to Mrs. Sanger. Yet when I opened the mail I was shocked to find my inbox was crammed with hundreds of mailings for pornographic web sites – and not just regular porn but rather the dark, disgusting, sadomasochistic variety. I wondered to myself if this was in response to my guest column – or if one of the Swedish delegates was angrier than I thought. No matter, I was furious that someone had chosen this form of harassment, but figured there was little I could do about it. Oh well, after ten minutes of deletions I finally found Katja’s original mail, to which I replied that I wanted a picture of her sister.
Thinking of her sister I decided to start checking on any stories whatsoever about prostitutes in newspapers throughout Oregon and Washington. I searched for hours, and occasionally clicking on a link dealing with serial killers, as it seemed that such women were often their victims, but did not find anything that seemed relevant to Katja. Then I noticed I had a new email from Katja. I opened it, “I knew I could count on you. Thank you so much, Katja.” I opened the attachment to find the picture of a beautiful young woman – large eyes, long strawberry-blond hair and an innocent smile. She was wearing a low cut blouse and I noticed an unusual tattoo, one with two little red hearts attached and circled by a ring that mimicked the rings of Saturn. I leaned back and looked at the girl and hoped that she was okay.
The nice note and the picture of Tamilla compelled me to do more searches, even though it was past mid-night. Even when Magdalena woke up I merely brought her over and fed her while I continued my search. Once asleep, I sat her down and tried the term “unidentified” for some weird reason. Then I came across an article in the Portland newspaper from early in the year about a body discovered in a park of a young woman, and it indicated that the dead woman was believed to be in her late teens or early twenties, Caucasian with dark hair. I figured that it was nothing, especially since the hair color did not match, but still…something would not allow me to let go of the little article buried in the local news section. I tried to find any follow-up to the story, but there was nothing. I thought to myself that seemed odd.
By now it was nearly 1:30am and I figured I should get to bed since the children would wake up around seven. I took my little baby upstairs with me, checked on the other children, and went to bed. While lying there I wondered what Matt and Nicole were doing at that moment. No, I was not jealous, more…curious. I knew they both loved me and so I felt no negative feelings whatsoever towards Nicole, but I did, for a brief second, yearn for one of them to be with me just then.
The next morning I repeated the routine of the previous day. I then went back to the computer to resume my searches. I really wanted to go running, but that would have to wait until Matt and Nicole arrived back home. When I opened my mail I again was greeted by hundreds of porn mailings. This time some were addressed to my name like “Hey Melanie, saw your ad!” so I opened one up. I was horrified to see that it was a reply to a posting on a swinger’s dating site! And worse yet, it listed my name and even my address! I quickly sent a letter to the administrator of the site to remove the posting or face legal action – unfortunately I had to repeat this action over a dozen times that morning.
I was really angry over what was going on. I was now convinced this was due to my guest column, but that fueled my desire to take on this issue all the more. Then, after doing more searches on the net, around 3pm, I heard Matt’s car drive up and said aloud, “Oh great, they are home way early!” I dashed into the kitchen to find it a mess, as was most of the house, so I started to put some hamburger meat on the stove. When the door opened Matt called my name and I cried out, “In the kitchen making dinner!” He came in and greeted me with a peck on the cheek since my hands were covered in blood so I could not give him a hug. However, when Nicole looked in she sighed, her mouth dropped, and she exclaimed, “I just knew it!”
I asked what was wrong and she sat down at the table. She protested, “When I left the house was totally in order – couldn’t you have tried to clean up a little?” I washed my hands and promised to get on it. She got up, looked out the window and then down at the sink, “I’m sorry for getting angry, it’s just that I did not want to get home to find a disaster. I do appreciate the time I had away Melanie, thank you.” I gave her a hug, but when I tried to kiss her she moved her head to the side. I knew she was angry so I got around to picking things up and letting her know it had been a hard time keeping up with everyone. She replied, “Yes, I know…I do it every day.”
Nicole seemed angry all through dinner. Once we were finished Matt volunteered to go out with the kids and, just before leaving, he whispered something into Nicole’s ear. She then rested her head on her hand, stared at me, and then said, “Matt wants us to go out for a bike ride, just you and me. He promises to clean up and get the children in bed.” I asked, “Are you up for it?” Nicole answered, “Yeah, I guess…I have not been out with my wife on the bikes for a long time.”
It was strange though. When we rode by the church Nicole stopped, looked at it, and then said, “I hate this.” I asked what and she continued, “I find it so irritating. I really want to go to church when you all go, I can’t explain it but I do. It is so unfair.” She then got back
on her bike and yelled out, “Come on, let’s burn off some of that dinner!” At that we both raced each other to the bike path; riding as fast as possible. Ironically, she was beating me! In about an hour we were far from our neighborhood and came to a stop, under a huge maple tree. As we parked our bikes she said, “Nobody knows you here.” And at that she grabbed me and we interlocked in a passionate display of affection. She then asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to run for congress? I am willing to stay in the shadows if you win.” I sat down on a bench next to the tree, “Nicole, I already turned them down. Besides, maybe it is for our family’s best. And maybe in a few years when we are finished having kids I will change my mind.”
At that Nicole sighed and said, “No Melanie, I don’t think we should have any more kids. It is kind of hard to keep up with what we have and since you are dead set on home schooling I just don’t see how we can do it.” I was about to ask what Matt thought but before I could she said, “I know Matt would love more children, he said so on our trip, but I am going to schedule a hormonal implant as soon as I start my cycle. That will be good for five years.” I knew by her tone of voice that she wanted not only my confirmation but also an agreement to do likewise. Yet I was not willing to give her that. However, I did not have to make any commitment as I was nursing and did not think I could get pregnant anyway.
We rode home and Nicole seemed less stressed than before. When we entered the house the toys were put away, the children were watching a nature show, and the kitchen was spotless. I turned to Nicole, “You know if Matt could live full time in Portland…” Nicole interrupted, “I don’t know, we can wait and see what happens.”
It was funny…once we came in Matt asked, “So are you two tired?” I shrugged my shoulders and looked at Nicole, who looked at me and smiled. Matt said, “Here is the deal, I have the children and everything is under control, right?” We both wondered what he was getting at. He then said, “I want you two to march upstairs and I don’t want to see either one of you until tomorrow, understand?” We both laughed, Nicole gave him a big kiss and I looked at him in total appreciation as our eyes met in a communication of absolute love. It felt really nice to feel something so positive about a man who had sacrificed so much for my happiness.
The next morning I awoke with Nicole pressed against me. She looked totally peaceful – nobody would suspect this young woman had taken human life. Thinking about that I felt it would be such a waste if she chose never to bring new life into the world. I just had no way of knowing what to say to her. Yet in that peaceful moment I gently awoke her and expressed my love to her in the most special way. Afterwards I told her, “Your birthday is next week and I hope I can give you something that expresses my devotion to you.” She then started to cry a little and took my hand, “I have everything I could possibly want; just maybe we could go out to dinner or something.” I then looked at her hand and thought maybe it was time that Matt and I give her a ring as well. It was not that we had not thought about it in the past, but as her fingers tended to swell up during pregnancies we had always put it off. Maybe now would be the time to get the perfect ring for the perfect woman.
When we went downstairs Matt greeted us, “Good morning, I hope you two are hungry.” He then presented us with a soup he said was from Japan, toast, cooked ham and a little bowl of ice cream. I went over to him and, violating a long-standing rule gave him a kiss and thanked him. I turned to Nicole whose eyes were wide open as well as giving us a huge, approving smile. Okay, we were not the typical suburban 1950s style family, but it worked – for everyone, and that is what is important, right?
Chapter 4
I was somewhat hesitant to open my email that day but I knew I had to. Sure enough, I not only had the same sorts of obscene mail, but even more so; and way more vulgar than the previous two days. I shrugged my shoulders and proceeded to delete everything without saying a word to Matt or Nicole. I assumed that this sort of thing had happened to representatives in the past so I figured I could find some computer expert at the capitol who could assist me in filtering out these messages.
My appointment with Detective Sanger was for 11:00am so I told everyone where I was going and that I was unsure when I would be home. I also took Matt to our room and asked if he thought we should get Nicole a special ring for her birthday. He was quite enthusiastic and suggested we go shopping on Saturday. I agreed and took off to my appointment.
To say that a police station made me nervous would be an understatement. I had committed more violent crime than practically anyone who had ever been taken through their doors and to top it off, I had killed one of their own – Sheriff Murdock. Of course, no evidence existed that could tie me to anything so I laughed as I glanced over the “FBI Ten Most Wanted” postings near the reception desk. Of course, I caught myself fantasizing what it would be like to have those featured criminals in my grasp.
The cop at the desk gave me directions to Sanger’s office and I headed down the sterile, gray corridor to meet her. Once there she greeted me and offered me some coffee and doughnuts – how very clichéd. I took a doughnut, but told her I was not a fan of coffee. I took note of her appearance – quite manly actually…maybe in her late 40s, short hair and no make- up. She was dressed in a professional, businesswoman sort of light blue blouse and pantsuit and had kind of a tough and “in charge” sort of look about her face. At first I figured she must be a more masculine lesbian, but as I glanced over her desk I noticed a picture with an older man with a gray beard, slightly balding with two teenage boys. I asked, “Is that your family?” and she said, “Yes, that is my husband George and my two sons Theodore and John. The picture is a couple of years old; they are now both in college.” I could not help but notice the presidential first names of the men in her family, but I did not say anything.
When I sat down she began to explain the workings of her department. I was sort of letting my mind wander as she gave me the standard “let’s try to impress someone in power” presentation. I let her speak and then started to ask questions about sex trafficking, how much it affected Portland and what countries the women were from. She apparently did not expect to get detailed questions; for some reason I got the impression she had not taken me seriously at first, maybe due to my age or something. She then tried to answer my questions but not in that much detail. It seemed she was just doing PR for her department.
Then I asked, “I read about a body found in a park earlier this year – what sorts of identification process do you do when you can’t find anything like a wallet?” Yes, I was curious as to the story, but I also wanted to hear her describe what process the police went through since I had done my best to make sure no body I had ever left behind could be traced. She merely went over things like dental records, fingerprints and DNA. Nothing I did not already know, but I still found it fun to hear her describe it from her perspective.
Just then two stocky policemen, both with short dark hair, walked into the room and seemed startled. One, an officer Myers, apologized and offered to shake my hand as he said, “Sorry Lieutenant Sanger, I thought your congresswoman was coming in after lunch.” The other man, an officer Smith, held his hand out and said nothing. Sanger then commented, “These are my assistants in the department – we don’t have a lot of resources, but we manage to get the job done.” I did not say anything until they left.
Sanger then apologized, “Oh yes, the prostitute in the park; no we did not find anything to help us identify her. That happens with these women quite often, they did not want to be identified in life so it is almost impossible to know who they are in death.” I nodded my head to acknowledge what she was saying. I then noted, “I bet it is even harder when the killer doesn’t want anyone to know who the victim is either.” She agreed and then there was the uncomfortable pause…that moment where neither person has anything else to say but nobody is ready to end the meeting. She finally took the initiative and said, “Well I hope I have been able to answer all of your questions.
” I thanked her but it seemed I startled her when I said, “I am going to look into this issue a lot further. I bet there are a lot of things lurking under the surface that need to be addressed.” She did not say a word for several seconds. Then, to my surprise, she appeared to give me a warning, “I don’t know what you mean Mrs. Lindberg, but I would caution you to be careful with messing around with this activity; an amateur with a ‘save the world’ complex could wind up getting unwanted attention from some very serious elements in society.”
I was maybe too quick to respond but respond I did, “Mrs. Sanger, you need not worry…I am not quite as fragile as I may seem.” She leaned against her desk and took a deep breath, “Again, if you want any more details about this issue I would advise you go through me first. We are the professionals who actually have to deal with enforcing the laws and expectations that you and your colleagues enact, so you need to trust us.”
I thanked her and said that my interests were purely to examine the issue. Yet when I left her office I was quite resentful towards the way it seemed she had patronized me. I also did not like getting brushed off. Perhaps my antagonism towards police, or any authority figures, was the root of my resentments – even though, ironically, I was actually an authority figure of hers, although I held state office, not municipal.
On the way out of the building I suddenly stopped and remembered having to come here to identify my mother’s body years before. I then decided that maybe I could show the picture of the Russian girl to the coroner and see if maybe he had seen her. It was a morbid thought perhaps, but it was not like I had never been exposed to death, and maybe, sadly, the object of my investigation had managed to cross paths with this man.
When I arrived at the coroner’s office I did not see anyone, so I just looked around for a moment. Suddenly, a stern voice startled me, “May I help you?” I turned and it was a young bald man with huge dark-rimmed glasses. I took a moment and responded, “Hello, I am Senator Lindberg…I was just talking with Detective Joyce Sanger and then I thought perhaps you could help me.”
Descent Into Darkness Page 5
