by DJ Owen
Kyle walked over to the shed where Mike was loading up a pick-up truck with a chainsaw and other tools.
"Looks like you might have a tree down from the storm the other night."
"Yep. Those winds blew down an old Aspen across one of the hiking paths. I'll cut it up and let the wood dry for this winter." Mike sat down on the truck's bumper. "What can I do you for?"
"Well, did you hear about the escapee from Humboldt? We're just making sure we spread the word and pass his photo around in case he shows. We think he's headed to Reno, but you never know. Will you make sure your guests are on the lookout?" Kyle handed a stack of wanted posters to the ranger.
"Sure, Kyle. This year has been something else, hasn't it? First the van driver's death and now an escaped inmate. This could be bad for business, you know." Mike walked toward his office. "You want something to drink? I got water and cola."
"Thanks, Mike. I was getting a little thirsty. I'll take a water, if you don't mind."
"Wouldn't have offered if I minded." Mike disappeared inside for a moment, returning with small cooler. Kyle heard the familiar sound of ice and water sloshing around inside as Mike set the cooler down and reached in. "Here you go."
"Thanks." Kyle opened the wet bottle and took a large drink. "Mike, before I go, I have a question for you. Remember a woman named Alex Warren who was here when that van caught fire? I need to know how she reserved the camping space."
"Credit card, of course." Mike studied Kyle's face. "You know we always check out our guests before we confirm the reservation. Nothing popped on her."
"Well, here's the thing. Since we interviewed everyone, I've had a hard time tracking her down. I don't have anything concrete, but my gut tells me I need to check this out. Could you get me the credit card number?"
"You know I shouldn't. Not if it isn't official police business." Mike didn't blink as he looked at Kyle. "What's this really about?"
Kyle broke the stare-down and leaned against the truck. "Alright, but this stays between us, okay, Mike?" Mike nodded, so Kyle continued. "Her license said she lives in San Francisco, and I went there for seminar so I called her up. She said she was out of town, so I went to her house to leave a little gift for her." Mike's head snapped up. He had never heard Kyle talk about being interested in anyone in particular since his last breakup a few years before. Kyle's ex had hurt him pretty badly, and Kyle had shown no interest in going down that road again. "I know, I know. I shouldn't get involved with someone from a case."
"That's not what I was thinking. I was just surprised you were showing interest in anyone. You have good taste, though. That Alex was a looker. Sweet girl, too."
Kyle's face softened as he half-smiled. "That's what I'm hoping. Here's the thing, though. When I stopped by, the woman who lives there said she bought it years before. I checked out Alex's license and she had just renewed it in April using that address. I probably wouldn't think much of it, but I can't find any record of her...no financials or anything. It's really weird. It's like she's managed to fall completely off the grid, which generally leads you to consider the type of people who choose to live that way. You know, people trying to avoid jail, for instance."
"Yeah, those and fanatical nut cases. We seem to get a lot of people in these parts that don't want to be found."
"They're everywhere, Mike. You're just aware of the ones around here because you're in close proximity. You hear things in town, and see things that would go unnoticed in a large town. Plus, people in less populated areas sometimes have alternatives to buying into utility companies, and get paid cash for odd jobs rather than having to have a bank account. But believe you me...they are everywhere."
Mike nodded. "I know. It just makes me nervous."
"You and me both. And that's one of the reasons my gut wants me to look into Alex a little more. It's probably nothing. She probably has legitimate reasons for being off the grid. I don't want to cause her problems, though, if it's nothing. That's why I haven't said anything to the officers handling the case. Who knows? Maybe Alex had a stalker or something."
"Like you?" Mike grinned at his friend.
"No! Not like me. I mean, I'm not stalking her. I was just being friendly. Now I'm looking into the life of a possible suspect. But I am NOT stalking!"
"Well, stalk or investigate, I don't care. Follow me and I'll give you the credit card number you asked for. But you tell no one that I gave it to you, okay? At least not without warning me first. We're both out on a limb on this one, so let's make sure we don't throw each other off."
"You've got it." Kyle put out his hand, which Mike shook twice in agreement.
"I keep a file box with all the old reservations in it. They're alphabetized so I can refer to them if they come back another year." He took a shoebox from under the counter marked 'T - Z' and thumbed through it. It didn't take long to find Alex Warren's record. He handed the three stapled cards to Kyle.
"This is terrific, Mike! You've not only got her reservation, which is pretty much all the information I already had except for the credit card number, but you've also got her father's information from years ago. This is wonderful!" He took out his notebook and started adding the new information to the old.
"I told you, we like to keep our records together. I can't take all the credit, though. Bob Tidwell was the ranger before me, and he's the one that set up this system. It made sense to me, and I've kept at it. The guests seem to appreciate it when you treat them like family."
"You have a note here: Parents died - car accident. Did Alex tell you that?"
"Yeah, when she came in. I had pulled her father's reservation and asked her how her family was doing. She seemed confused at first. You know, a little wary that I asked. I told her I had found an old reservation for John and Stella Warren, with daughters Alexandra and Monica, and thought maybe it was her. It caught her off-guard, but she admitted it was. Said she came back because it was the anniversary of her parents' death. Told me they both died in a car accident, but that she and her sister were fine."
"Really? Well, that's cool. Not about her parents dying, of course, but that she talked with you about it. Maybe she isn't trying to stay off the grid, after all." A frown crept across Kyle's face.
"What is it? I thought you were happy!" Mike wasn't following Kyle's train of thought.
"Poor woman! First her husband, then her parents." Kyle's eyes opened wide. "This isn't good at all!"
"What, already?!" Mike was completely bewildered.
"Think about it, Mike. Her husband died mysteriously in San Francisco when they were separated. Then her parents die in a car accident a few years later. Then she's staying here when you have a mysterious murder at the lake, which someone attempted to cover up. I hate to say it, but this woman is either the unluckiest woman in the world, or she might be responsible for all of these!"
"That's quite a leap there, Bud. I don't think sweet little Alex could hurt a fly," Mike offered.
Kyle handed the papers back to Mike. "Thanks, Mike. I really appreciate it." He headed out the door.
"Now don't go off all half-cocked. You said it yourself. She might just be unlucky. It could all be coincidence."
"I know, Mike. Don't worry. But I am going to look into this further. I've never been too fond of coincidences." He opened his car door and turned back to Mike. "I'll let you know what I find. You'll know well in advance before I tell anyone at the station."
"Thanks, Kyle. Just remember to give the girl a chance to explain. She was awfully sweet. I can't believe she's anything but unlucky."
Kyle gave Mike a mock salute as he drove away from the Ranger's station. "You be careful cutting up that tree!" With that, he was gone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The days passed uneventfully for Alex, which made her long for the excitement of the hunt and eradication. She never learned to like the word 'kill'. Eradicate sounded more like getting rid of bugs or vermin. Kill sounded more like ending the life of humans or cuddly an
imals. She considered what she did as more of a service, like pest control. It didn't sound glamorous, but she didn't feel as though what she did was a bad thing.
After the strange couple near Narragansett and that awful dream that followed, she thought settling down at Monica's would be a good change of pace. Here she was, only a few days later and she felt almost like a prisoner. She knew she had been lucky. Brad had only been the latest example of her efforts. Alex mentally listed them in her mind.
Paul was the first, and a bit of an accident. Alex had traveled to the Detroit area to write a human interest story on a woman who had solved her own daughter's cold case murder. Alex had made a reservation at a campground, but ended up parked in an area that was more isolated than she preferred. The close-in spots were taken, and she was the first to park in a more distant area. She was walking back to her RV near dusk when she was attacked from behind. She managed to break his hold and flip him over her back and onto his. He lost his grip on the knife he was holding, and she grabbed it before he did. As they continued to struggle, the attacker knocked Alex on her back and jumped on top of her in an effort to pin her down. She saw what was coming and maneuvered the knife toward her sternum with the blade pointing skyward. Gravity worked, and brought the man down onto the tip of the knife. Alex had the presence of mind to shove the knife further in before he could pull away. She twisted it, and the man's strength drained along with his blood. It took a lot of strength to push his dead weight off her small frame. She noticed her green tank top had become a dark brownish-red from dirt and the liquid that had rained down on her. Her chest hurt, too, and she wondered if she had cracked her own sternum as the man’s weight fell on the knife.
At first Alex expected people to come running, but no one was around to hear the commotion. The attacker had chosen a time when everyone was either out to dinner or at the Detroit Pistons game. She considered what to do now that the man was dead. She searched his pockets and found his driver's license, which provided his name. His wallet also contained a slightly faded receipt for items he had collected when he was released from Mound Correctional Facility. So he's an ex-con, Alex thought.
She was concerned about the local police finding out she had been investigated in Jeremy's death. Alex worried that as an out-of-towner, she would be railroaded even though Paul had attacked her. She therefore did what she felt any rational person would do: she put on some gloves and shoved a towel into the man’s wound, wrapping kitchen plastic wrap around his torso to stop the blood from draining further. She dragged him into her motorhome, and then cleaned herself up and changed into fresh clothes. She drove out of the campground and eventually found herself along Lake Erie. She settled on a deserted park and was able to drive her motorhome within a few feet of the water. She pulled him from her RV and removed the plastic wrap and his wallet, the only things she had touched with her bare hands. She rolled him into the water and took his wallet and the wrap back to the motorhome, where she put them into a plastic trash bag along with her ruined clothes and gloves.
Alex drove toward Monica's, burning the contents of the trash bag in a grill at another roadside picnic area several miles away from where she dumped the body. She felt a rush of relief blended with exhilaration after it was over, and the realization hit her that she would most likely get away with it. She couldn't quite bring herself to say "get away with murder", and that began the rationalization that she had simply eliminated a form of vermin.
The Detroit papers eventually reported the story of a body found in Lake Erie, and he was identified from his arrest record. Alex followed the story and found out that his only family was an older brother who was also in prison. His mother had died of lung cancer when he was a child, and his father was unknown, or so his birth certificate attested. No girlfriend or wife came forward, and no children claimed him as a father. He had been in and out of trouble with the law from the time he was twelve, but what would you expect when your only living family was picked up during a police raid on a local gang and sent to prison for life. Those stories eventually ended as fresher stories appealing to Detroit's middle and upper class took its place. The final article mentioned that there were no suspects but that police assumed his death was gang-related.
Alex almost considered what she had done an act of mercy. The man would have ended up back in prison eventually, and would likely never have lived a productive life. Yes, she had done a service to the community and an act of mercy, all at the same time.
There were times that she started to regret what she had done, but she was able to shake it off by remembering the attack and knowing she had prevented him from doing the same to other women...women who were less fit and didn't have the self-defense training she had taken before she went on the road. The thought that he might have learned his lesson and straightened out his life never occurred to her.
Months had passed before Alex realized there were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of other men out there ready and willing to do the same thing to other women. She accepted an assignment writing her first article on women and rape, and she felt a growing desire to do more than just put words to paper. Alex began to think about how well her first experience at protecting women had turned out. Perhaps she could do it again, if only she could be sure that the person she targeted was guilty of harming innocent women. Her technique was born, and she had managed to rid the world of more than a half dozen other creeps.
There was Wayne in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. The police eventually identified him as responsible for fourteen rapes, three of which ended in murder. However, it was only after he was dead and police ran his DNA that all those rapes were attributed to the one attacker.
George met his end in La Porte, Texas near Houston. He was so charming when she met him that she almost didn't continue her charade. However, once he had Alex in his Dodge, he began berating her verbally, calling her horrible names. Then came the punch that had her seeing stars. After the mental abuse Alex endured, George deserved the physical abuse Alex inflicted.
John's reign of fear was stopped in Happy Valley, Oregon. He would search for women shopping alone late at night. His target would accept his offer to walk her to her car, only to find out she would have been better off alone.
There was also the man in Bonita, California, outside San Diego. Alex was never able to find out his name. She had driven his body into the mountains to dump it and he dropped down a sheer cliff. Evidently, his body had never been found. Alex periodically checked the San Diego papers, but after two years, there was little likelihood she would ever be linked to his death.
Lamarr tried to outsmart the law by leaving his native Quebec to commit his crimes. He would disarm the women of Maine with his French accent and charming talk of international business trips, convincing them to let him drive them home. Alex disarmed him with her self-defense techniques just before he gave up the ghost.
Alex ran into a serious issue in Bozeman, Montana. She allowed her drink to be spiked and was picked up by a man named Austin. However, when they parked on a lonesome dirt road, another man came out of nowhere to aid in the attack. She really struggled that night, but her martial arts training eventually enabled her to incapacitate both men. After she finished what they started, she found the other man's name was Dustin. Twins, no less. Alex wondered if there was a specific gene that caused this kind of predilection toward rape and murder, and briefly considered whether she might have a similar gene. She decided she must not since she was actually protecting the public, while those she eradicated were putting the public at risk.
There was also Lyle in Toccoa, Georgia, who buried his victims in shallow graves in Tallulah Gorge State Park. His favorite target were women who jogged or hiked alone.
Alex was ecstatic when she finally identified Rusty as a serial killer near Roswell, NM. He preyed on those who came in search of extraterrestrial life. Many came alone because of a strong belief in aliens, while their friends and family truly believed in psychotic breaks with
reality. Around 200,000 UFO-seeking visitors arrive in the Roswell area each year, many of them never telling anyone the truth about where they were headed. Alex's research turned up reports of female body parts found in the desert east of Roswell. Unfortunately, there were miles and miles of desert and thanks to the local coyotes and other wildlife, the area police had not identified any particular location for the murders.
Alex spent weeks reviewing various websites disseminating UFO information, and happened upon one that offered tours of the area run by a man named Rusty the Ranger. Alex called Rusty and there was something about the telephone conversation that caused her skin to crawl. In particular, he asked if she would be traveling alone. She booked a tour and sure enough, he made sure he found an opportunity to speak with Alex away from the rest of the UFO enthusiasts. Rusty offered to show her a secret place he knew where he could see alien ships almost every night. Alex realized that once Rusty had his target alone in the desert, he could torture and mutilate her for hours, her screams fading in the desert air. Since families and friends didn't know their loved ones were headed to Roswell, no one ever searched for them there. Rusty was left to carry on his perverse pastime for years. The next time body parts were found, they were Rusty's.
Yet here Alex sat at her sister's house, with a preponderance of sadists and serial killers still targeting women everywhere. She felt good about getting both Amy and Monica to visit the gym, and signed them both up for self-defense classes. Alex even stopped by the offices of the Columbus Dispatch, and was given a shot at joining the crime beat. At least she had something to do on a regular basis.
Monica reported that her team-building retreat went well, though she had very little alone time with Mark. They did manage to work together on the ropes course, and Mark buddied up with Monica for the obstacle course, which gave him a chance to provide some physical assistance to Monica as she struggled to make it over the wall. The trust exercise went well when Mark and Monica relied on each other, but both had issues relying on others in the group. According to Monica, Mark had great leadership and communication skills, while Monica was better at task-oriented activities and anything that dealt with balance.
