by Amy Shannon
“I brought supper. It’s hot. Janice made it at the diner, I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, great,” he said. “We can eat in the kitchen,” he took the canvas bags from her hands, and she took off her coat. “You can hang your coat on the rack there, by mine.”
She placed her coat on the other side of the coat rack and followed him to the kitchen. “I do like your place.”
“Oh, well, thanks. It suits me,” he set the bags on the kitchen table that was positioned by the window that looked into the backyard.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” he started to take the plastic containers out of the bag and set them on the table.
“How in the world did you design this so perfectly?”
“It’s gonna sound ridiculous,” he laughed slightly. “But I mapped out my steps that I take throughout the evening, when I’m home. I mean, I work at the office and there’s not a set number of steps or things that I do, well, there is, but not at the office. At home, I’ve a routine, and I mapped out my steps. That’s all. The only thing that is separate from that is downstairs, where I’ve got my darkroom, my laundry room, safe, and storage room.”
“Sound really interesting,” she said. “So, do you ever eat here?”
He laughed, “Uh huh, usually I eat out, but I do know how to cook and sometimes I’m just too tuckered out and I eat here. It’s not very often, as you can probably tell from what the town may tell you.”
“Janice was concerned that she hadn’t seen you in a few days.”
“Uh huh, sure, she probably is just wonderin’ if Sully is comin’ back,” he walked over to the cabinet and pulled out two plates. “I own two of everything. Sorry. I do have a cabinet of extra dishes, when I have others over, which isn’t very often.”
“Is your flatware real?”
“What? Oh, right, yes, I’ve got two spoons, two forks and two knives,” he opened the flatware drawer. “And they’re not plastic. Well, I do sometimes confiscate the plastic-ware from the bakery, but only use it when I don’t feel like doing dishes.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you clean up,” she smiled, dishing out the steaks and potatoes to the plates. “I see you have coffee on.”
“I’ve got Jameson, too, if you want.”
“Is that all you have?”
“I’ve got juice, too. Did you want some juice?”
“Coffee with a shot is fine,” she smiled, as she sat down.
He sat down next to her, setting the mugs of coffee and whiskey on the table. “This looks good.”
“I hope it is,” she nodded. “I’m glad I came.”
“Me, too,” he lifted his mug. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” she clicked his mug with hers. “Enjoy.”
Aggie wiped her hands off on the towel and closed the door to the dishwasher. “See, I said I’d help.”
“Thanks. Want more coffee, or just switch to Whiskey?”
“Do you ever drink wine?”
“Uh sure, I like wine, uh, red wine. I’m not an expert or anything, but I know what I do and don’t like.”
“Well, next time, I’ll bring some wine, or you can enjoy a glass or four at my home,” she watched as he pulled the bottle of Jameson out of the cabinet, and grabbed two rocks glasses. She followed him into the living room. She stopped in front of the record player, and looked up at the shelf filled with vinyl record albums. “You’ve got quite a collection.”
“In the evening, I prefer Elvis.”
“I’d love to hear some, if you didn’t mind,” she smiled.
He set the bottle of Jameson on the coffee table along with the glasses. He walked over to her and placed the needle on the record that lay on its turntable. Softly, the voice of Elvis Presley crooned throughout the living room. “This is one of my favorites,” he said, as Elvis sang I’m so lonesome I could cry.
“I really love the Beatles, but I love Elvis and Sinatra as well,” she followed him over to the sofa, as they both sat down.
“I like them, too,” he smiled. “I guess Elvis just reminds me of my mother.”
“She was a big fan?”
“One of the biggest. She bragged about going to his concerts and seeing every single one of his movies. Now me, I’m not a big Elvis movie fan, but his music is somethin’ else. Somethin’ I can even sing along to, uh, well, only when I’m alone.”
“So, tell me about your mother,” she patted his leg.
“Well,” he started to say when there was a knock on his door. “Uh, hold on. It’s probably Brennan,” he walked over to the door and opened it. “Brennan?”
“I know you said to call, but I was heading out to go home. I thought you’d wanna see this. It’s everything on that Arlo Robinson that I could get so far,” he handed him the folder. “His photos are in it and his current address is local.”
“All right, thanks,” he nodded. “See you in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” he turned on his heels and headed down the steps of the porch.
Aggie stood up as Jake headed into the living room. “What is it?”
Jake opened the folder and stared at the photo of Arlo Robinson. “Do you know this man?” he showed her the file.
“He looks familiar, but I’m not sure,” she sighed. “Kinda has general features, you know, not standing out in a crowd.”
He sat down on the sofa, as she sat down. “Perfect face for a stalker, right?”
“And a serial killer,” she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Uh huh, perfect,” he muttered, pressing his lips against her forehead.
17
Jake sat in his truck, across the street from Aggie’s home. He let her know that he would be out there. Waiting in the shadows to see if he could see what her stalker saw. He now had a name ... different from Icarus. Arlo Guthrie Robinson. Interesting name, must have interesting parents. He wasn’t just one of those loners that everyone describes after a crime has been committed, but he was one of those loners, who tried to fit in with those around him. He could be a chameleon. He read the file several times, and memorized his features. Dark hair, blue eyes, simple features. He had no tattoos and was 25 years old. He was also about 5 feet 6 inches, so a shorter man, but that didn’t mean not dangerous.
After Aggie left, he reviewed the file that Ralph dropped off to him in his office. He didn’t usually work in there after hours, but the map was the key. He was able to outline the previous addresses of where Mr. Robinson was staying in the past ten years. It resembled the path of where bodies were dumped. It turns out it wasn’t just about Texas and Oklahoma. Robinson was busy in neighboring states, including Louisiana, Arkansas, and New Mexico. Jake spent the last hour before he left the agency on the phone with different state police agencies to get a handle on an MO and signature that matched. Sure enough, they hadn’t entered them into NCIC as of yet, but the MO was there. He just needed proof. He also needed to figure out what that path had to do with Aggie. He could ask her where she’s been, but it may upset her more than even she would realize. Now, how does he do a background check on his client, someone he’s growing to care about, maybe more than he should?
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and sent a text to 55569
Jake: Need intel. Last 10 yrs. Dr. Agatha Constantine. Send soonest.
He was about to close his phone when it chimed from 55569
Dina: On its way to email.
Then the phone chimed again.
Dina: Working l8?
Jake: All night. Got a lead.
Dina: Does she know?
Jake: No, but it’s impt.
The phone chimed again.
Dina: She’s the client, right?
Jake: Yes. My client is a victim of a stalker.
The phone chimed again, but the shadow a block down the street caught his eye. He closed the phone, without reading the text. He focused on the person, at this point, he couldn’t distinguish male or female, wearing blac
k, and a hoodie over his or her head. He grabbed his camera and focused on the shadow, standing on the sidewalk in front of Aggie’s home. He took some photos, and then watched as the shadow crossed the street, and stood by the tree. The focus of the shadow was on Aggie’s home.
Jake took more photos of the shadow, and then wrote some notes. He focused his sight on the shadow, and watched. He watched and waited. He opened his phone again, eyeing the last sent text with one eye. Expecting it to be from Dina again, he gulped heavily.
The number was listed as unknown.
Unknown: New target. Don’t 4-get. Doc is mine! More presents to come.
He focused on the shadow and wondered if he missed when this shadow used his phone. Could the shadow and the stalker be the same person? Did this person send a text message or is the shadow a decoy?
He clicked on reply to the text, hoping it would send.
Jake: Thx for the update.
But the message didn’t send, instead an error that it couldn’t be delivered was returned. Goddammit.
He texted Aggie’s number.
Jake: Ur being watched. Start the video.
Doc: Got a weird text. He says he watching me. Are u still there?
Jake: Yes. I’m here and so is shadow. Forward me that text. Will talk to you. Tomorrow. Good night.
Doc: Be careful. Good night. XXOO
XXOO? He smiled, but then focused on the shadow again. He watched the shadow, whose belt buckle lightly glistened when it was hit by moonlight. For two hours, the shadow remained across the street from Aggie’s house, watching.
Jake rubbed his eyes, noticed the shadow reach into his pocket, and pulled out somethin’. He watched as the shadow lit his cigarette. Jake looked toward Aggie’s house, and her lights in the house were off, except for the light in what he figured was her upstairs bedroom, and hallway. He focused on the man, as he smoked his cigarette and when he was finished, he put the butt out on the sidewalk. The shadow walked across the street to the front of Aggie’s house, and stood there, looking up at the house, and then down the street. Jake hid in the shadow of his truck, still watching. The shadow walked up to Aggie’s porch, dropping a box of some sort. The shadow proceeded back across the street, and through the brush that led to the woods.
Jake got out of his truck, flinging his go-bag over his shoulder, and putting his phone in his jacket pocket. He headed toward the brush where the shadow disappeared, hoping to pick up the shadow’s trail. He would worry about that package later.
He continued to be at least twenty-yards from the shadow, walking through the thin dirt trail that led from the woods across from Aggie’s home, to the outskirts of the next neighborhood, and finally woods that outlined the raging Herzog Creek that ran around the town of Clarksville. Jake stood within the confines of the trees’ shadow.
The shadow slowly stepped out of the woods and toward the rocky bank of the creek. Jake continued to follow him, but within the thick, tree-filled woods.
The shadow walked up the embankment toward the fisherman’s dock, and passed it toward the footbridge. The footbridge crossed over the creek, parallel to a vehicle bridge, and it only led to one neighborhood. Jake stood at the bottom of the embankment as the shadow walked across the bridge. The dim light from the cloud-covered moon brightened as the clouds opened. The moonlight hit the shadow, and soon the man appeared. Jake could see definitely, it was not only a man, but Arlo Robinson. Now, there was only one question left. Was this man truly Icarus?
Jake climbed up the embankment and walked over to the vehicle bridge, not wanting to gain attention from the footbridge. He crossed the bridge, hurrying to keep his focus on Robinson. Robinson never turned around, he continued a heavy stride toward his home. Jake, staying within the shadows of the street, followed him until he walked up the steps of his home. Jake made a note in his notebook of Robinson’s address. He watched as the light turned on in an upstairs room. Jake closed his jacket tightly and took a position across the street from Robinson’s home. He took a few photos with his camera and waited until the upstairs light turned off. He kept his focus on the house and waited for an hour to make sure no other lights turned on. He looked at his watch, it was now one AM. He positioned his digital video camera on a small tripod and set it in the bushes across the street from Robinson’s home, hiding it from any passersby or Robinson himself. He turned on the GPS signal for the camera, and then headed down the road, on his way back to get his truck, and to get the package left for Aggie.
Jake set the package, a letter-sized mailing envelope, on the passenger seat of his truck, and drove to Robinson’s address, where he parked across the street. He quietly got out of his truck and retrieved his camera. He sat in the truck, lit his cigar, and then focused his eyes on the camera, scanning its digital view screen to see if Robinson left. And then, there it was. About twenty minutes in, Robinson left his home. Goddammit! He focused on the empty house. Where the hell is he?
Instead of waiting, he started up his truck and drove to his home. He pulled in the driveway, collected his go-bag and the package, and headed into the dark agency.
18
Jake wearily lifted his head off his desk, when the knock on the glass door startled him. He opened the door and sighed. “Sully. Why’d you come back?”
“Two reasons,” he smirked. “First, that sexy Janice at the diner, and B,” he chuckled. “Dead girls.”
“Well, there’s dead girls and one dead old man,” Jake walked over to the coffee pot and turned it on. “Coffee be done in a sec.”
“So, where’s your assistant?” Sully sat on Ralph’s desk.
Jake looked at his watch. “He should be here in an hour. How’d you know ‘bout him?”
“Well, Janice mentioned Mr. Brennan to me. I also happen to see him at the diner last night. He was in kinda late, and reviewing files. Janice pointed him out to me, and I had a little chat with him last night. He told me that he used my name to get his job here, but you saw right through him.”
“Uh huh, smart as a whip, that kid,” he sighed. “So, you’re here awfully early, even for you.”
“Well, I’d say early for you, too, but I don’t reckon you slept at home last night, which is not like you at all.”
“You think you know me so well, uh, well, I guess you do. I do have a lead. I even tailed the guy but since I followed him on foot, after he went home what I thought was for the night, I screwed up and went to get my truck. I checked my camera and he left while I was gone. Now, I’m back where I started,” he eyed the unopened package that Robinson delivered to Aggie’s home. He realized he fell asleep before he opened the package, and now, was not the time to do it, especially since Sully was here. He wanted privacy to open it, because he didn’t know the contents.
“At least you got a name,” Sully said.
“Uh huh, but without proof, there’s nothing I can do. Since you asked me to take on this case, I’ll need warrants to do searches.”
“Hey, wait, I told you about the case, but you got hired by the doctor. I was just askin’ you if you were aware that your local serial killer that had an MO who matched your old, our old cases. You’re not an agent of the police. Whatever you do is for your client.”
Jake walked over to the coffee pot and poured them both a mug of coffee. “Well, this guy, he has an MO and a signature. We ID’d most of the local girls and a few are still missing that may be held by him. Doc, I mean, Dr. Constantine is working like crazy on the autopsies.”
Sully took the mug from his hand, and sipped his coffee. “This is good, thanks. Well, I’d like to see what you got. I heard that Lutz was pulled off the case. Did you do that?”
“I don’t have that kinda pull,” Jake sighed. “It was Olsen. Nels Olsen, the county sheriff. Aggie trusts him.”
“Well, good. Looks like you’ve been busy. So, can you link this guy to Dr. Constantine, or what?”
“No proof yet, but I’m close,” he sighed, setting his mug on the desk, and pul
ling out his cigar out of his pocket. He placed it on his lip and lit it. “There are a lot of puzzle pieces, now I just haveta put ‘em together.”
Sully stood up and walked over to the map on the wall. “So, this is where he's been, huh?”
“Uh huh, I haveta see if Aggie has been in those places, too. Not that it matters, because there are links to other girls, just a few, though.”
“A few?” Sully turned and looked at Jake.
“Three. Three in each of those places.” Jake sat behind his desk and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been staring at film and photos for hours.”
“So, where are the body dumps?” he pointed to each of the red pins.
“You’re pointing to them.”
“Not what I meant. What exactly are the dump sites?”
“Crap, you’re right,” he muttered, lifting up the desk phone and dialed quickly. “Doc, it’s me. I know, it’s early, probably very early, but I need the name of that tech you were telling me about. The one that goes to crime scenes.”
“Uh, Jake,” she sighed. “I was just getting up. But his name is Todd. Todd Masters. He works the day shift in the lab, he should be there soon unless he's called to a new scene, like I just was.”
“He did it again?”
“I’m guessing, but I’m not sure. I thought you were ...”
“I was but I screwed up. I lost him last night. Where is the new scene?”
