by Platt, Sean
“What do you mean?”
“Well, fortunately for us, a lot of these ride sharing services don’t just track your pick up or drop off, they also want to know where you go from there. They say it’s to determine safe drop-off points and to improve their core services, but I think they’re tracking so they can serve local ads to people on their phone. A huge business in local advertising.”
“So where did he go?”
“A warehouse.”
“Let’s go!” Mal said.
“Henry and Simmons are already there, waiting for us.”
Mike started the car and smiled at Mal.
“What?” she asked.
“The look on your face. You can pretend all you want, but you miss this job something fierce.”
“Just drive, Mike.”
“Okay … partner.”
* * * *
CHAPTER 47 - JESSI PRICE
Jessi woke up woozy from Officer Bob’s medicine.
She wished he’d never made her drink it.
Jessi knew he probably wasn’t a cop, but she still thought of him as Officer Bob. She supposed he could be an actual officer. She also supposed that bad guys could be cops. What better way to hide from the good cops than right under their noses?
Her right hand was cuffed to the metal bars on the headboard. Part of her wanted to pull against the cuff, cry out, and scream. But then Bob would make her take more medicine, or maybe hit her.
So Jessi pretended that she was still sleeping, peeking through barely opened eyes, trying to see where Bob had brought her last night while she was out.
A small room with two beds, a couch, a TV, a bookshelf, and stacks of food and water all along the walls. There was something weird about the place, but she couldn’t figure out what it was at first. Then she realized that there weren’t any windows.
There weren’t any in her room at the other house, either. But the rest of that house had windows. Jessi saw them when she first got there, when she still believed she was waiting for her father.
This place felt different.
Like it wasn’t really a house.
But she did see a ladder leading up into a hole in the high ceiling along a far wall.
A ladder!
A way to escape!
But first she’d have to get the cuffs off, and Jessi doubted he would ever leave her alone or un-cuffed. He’d never trust her after she tried to stab him.
Bob was sitting on the couch, his back to her, watching TV.
Suddenly, she heard her name.
Her ears perked up. It was hard not to sit up and open her eyes to see the screen. But if Bob knew she was awake, he’d probably turn off the TV. Then she wouldn’t hear what the people were saying about her.
“The Sheriff’s department is asking anyone with information about Paul Dodd or Jessi Price to contact 1-800—”
His name wasn’t Bob. It was Paul Dodd.
I knew it.
I knew he was a bad man.
She kept her eyes closed.
She heard a familiar voice, her mother. “Please, mister. Bring my child home.”
“Mommy?” Jessi said, no longer able to pretend she was sleeping.
Paul turned the TV off and spun around to look at her.
“Turn it back on!” Jessi screamed.
“No.”
He turned his back on Jessi, ignoring her.
“I knew it! You’re not taking me to see my dad! You stole me!”
Paul said nothing.
Jessi screamed as loud as she could. “Help! Help!”
He laughed. “Scream as loud as you want. Nobody’s gonna hear you.”
“Where are we?”
“Neverland.”
Paul clicked the TV back on, but quickly turned the channel, finding some old sitcom that Jessi’s parents used to watch. She wasn’t sure of its name.
“I want to go home.”
“Too bad.”
“I thought you were going to take me to see my Daddy.”
“Oh, you’ll see him soon enough.”
“I want to see him now!” Jessi screamed.
She didn’t care if she made him mad an more.
After the stabbing, Jessi had to apologize a lot. Had to tell him that she was sorry and that she was just scared. Had to lie to him to keep him from being so mad.
And it had worked.
But Jessi wasn’t going to fake it any longer. Paul was a bad man, and she couldn’t pretend he wasn’t.
“I want you to bring me to my Daddy now.”
“Be careful what you ask for.”
“What do you mean?”
He jumped off the couch, ran over to her, then dropped to his knees beside the bed and looked Jessie in the eyes. “You want to be with your Daddy again, do you?”
“Yes.”
“Right now?” His smile was weird, his eyes wild like her cat when he rolled in catnip. And it wasn’t just his wild eyes. Paul’s entire face had changed, like he was no longer pretending to be nice.
Or no longer hiding what he really was.
“Yes, I want you to take me to my Dad. Now.”
He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his phone, and swiped at the screen.
And for the first time, Jessi wondered if maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe he was going to call her father, and reunite them.
She leaned forward trying to see the screen, anxious. Her heart was pounding, happy butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
Would her complaining finally get him to bring her home? Jessi didn’t care if he brought her to Mom or Dad, as long as she was away from him.
He found whatever he was looking, then turned the screen so Jessi could see.
“What is this?” she asked, looking at a photo of her father sitting in a corner of a dark room she didn’t recognize.
Paul pressed the picture. Jessi realized it wasn’t a photo, but rather a video. The person shooting the video — probably Paul — moved closer.
Her father was tied with rope. “What did you to do to my daddy?”
She heard her father’s voice begging, “Please. Don’t.”
Then Paul’s ugly laughter.
“Please, I have a family.”
“Had a family,” said Paul’s voice. “Don’t worry, though, I’m taking care of them next.”
Her father screamed bad words at the man.
Then the phone was set down.
Jessi could see only the bottom half of her father, on his knees.
She saw Paul’s feet walk out of the shot.
Then a loud sound in the background — a familiar sound that she couldn’t quite place. Then, as Paul walked back into the frame, she saw the source — a chainsaw.
Her father screamed.
And then there was blood.
So much blood.
Jessi screamed as she watched her world ripped apart by the bad man.
“You killed him!”
Paul returned the phone to his pocket, then got up close in Jessi’s face, smiling. “Yeah, I killed him. And if you don’t stop being a little bitch, you’re going to join him. Do you understand me?”
She didn’t answer.
She couldn’t answer.
Jessi finally lost it.
She threw herself at him, as much as she could while cuffed to the rail.
Her mouth closed around his ear.
She bit.
Hard.
Paul screamed.
Blood flooded her mouth, tasting like hot metal.
She wanted to bite his ear straight off.
She twisted, biting harder.
Then she felt the blow to the back of her head, and she let go, falling backward into the bed.
“Ah, you are a spirited one!” Paul laughed even as blood gushed from his left ear.
“I hate you! I’m gonna kill you!”
Paul laughed harder.
“You have that backward. I’m going to kill you. But not before I fuck you so hard
that you’ll beg me to kill you.”
He grabbed Jessi by the back of her hair. The metal cuff bit into her wrist hard as he yanked her up.
He pulled her face to his, then licked at her mouth, trying to stick his tongue past her lips.
She screamed, squirming, kicking at him.
Paul grabbed her by the neck, hard, slammed her against the headboard, and squeezed so tight that she thought he might break her head right off.
She stopped kicking.
Stopped screaming.
All she could do was stare into his evil eyes.
And wet herself.
“Now that I have your attention,” he said as he slipped his hand across her chest. “It’s about time we make a woman out of you.”
He reached down.
And Jessi screamed.
* * * *
CHAPTER 48 - JASPER PARISH
Jordyn rode shotgun in silence.
“What?” Jasper asked.
“I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why you did that to him.”
Jasper wasn’t sure if she’d seen the lengths to which he’d hurt the man before finally ending his misery.
“He was a rapist. He deserved to die.”
“Even though he did his time? Even though he’d changed? You saw his computer. He didn’t have any illegal stuff on it. Did he?”
“Maybe he had it somewhere else. Maybe he doesn’t have any kiddy porn at all. I don’t know. But he’s still a monster. He ruined people’s lives. He made Paul. If not for him, Paul wouldn’t have killed Ashley. Or kidnapped Jessi Price. You get that, don’t you? Plus, gave Paul a place to hide, and continue hurting Jessi.”
Jordyn said nothing. Just stared out the passenger window.
“Okay. I get that he deserved punishment. Maybe even deserved to die. But that? What you did to him?”
“What?”
“You tortured him. Even though he helped by giving you Paul’s location. You cut off his … stuff … and shoved it in his mouth. Why?”
Jasper shook his head. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand. This seems to be more about you than him. Like you enjoy killing. You enjoy the torture.”
“Wait a second. How is this different from me setting that Jeff guy on fire after wrapping him in his snuff film tape?”
“He was a bad guy still doing bad things. You were dispensing appropriate justice. I didn’t think that was for you as much as this was. Don’t get me wrong, Dad. I do enjoy stopping these monsters. Keeping them from hurting more people. But this is something different. What you did to him is like the kinds of things we try to stop monsters from doing.”
Jasper turned to her, stunned. “Are you saying that I’m like them?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re thinking it.”
Jordyn kept staring out the window.
Jasper focused on the road but felt like his daughter had stabbed him in the gut with her accusations. How could she say he was becoming like the people he hunted? Did she not see the distinction between his brand of justice and the evil fueling the real bad guys?
He wanted to lash out, blast her for acting entitled, but he couldn’t yell at Jordyn. Because deep down, he saw the truth in her words.
He did enjoy torturing Wes Richards.
Enjoyed the man’s screams as Jasper removed his manhood.
Enjoyed the power of holding the man’s life in his hands, giving him just a bit of hope that he might get through this, then snuffing it out.
Does that make me a monster?
Jasper had never truly considered the question. He didn’t think he was a monster, but he also knew that none of the monsters he’d put down ever saw themselves that way. They always had reasons that drove them. An internal logic, no matter how twisted. They weren’t mustache-twirling bad guys doing evil stuff for shits and grins. They were broken, often too much to see what they were.
He glanced again at Jordyn.
Is that what she thinks of me? That I’m just like them?
And at that moment, he hated himself enough for the both of them.
“You’re right,” he said softly. “I don’t know what came over me, but you’re right. I went too far.”
Jordyn stayed silent.
“I thought we were doing good, but maybe you can’t do this sort of thing without it changing you. Without it turning you into the monsters you’re hunting.”
“You’re not a monster,” Jordyn finally said, still staring out the window.
Yeah, if that’s so, why can’t you look at me?
Jasper pulled up to their apartment building and killed the engine. “Yeah, but I’m also not proud of what I did. If I can’t look you in the eye and respect my actions, then I’m not worthy of being your father.”
Now she looked at him. Her eyes were welling up.
“I suggest we abort the mission.”
“What? What about Paul and Jessi?”
“The cops can handle it.”
“What about stopping the other bad guys?”
“I don’t know. We’ll figure something out. Or maybe we ignore them. Why ruin our lives with an endless battle? I spent most of my life fighting for other people while ignoring you and your mom.”
“But you were helping people.”
“Yeah, for all the good that did. Bad people still do terrible shit. And how did Fate reward me for doing good? By giving your mother cancer. I never got to spend the time with her that she deserved. I don’t want to lose you, too. Maybe my purpose has been wrong all along.”
He put his hand around hers, braiding their fingers their.
For a moment she seemed so tiny, like the little girl she once was, rather than the young woman she was becoming.
“I love you, Dad.” She unstrapped her seatbelt, leaned across the console, and rested her head on his shoulder.
“I love you, too, Jordyn.”
* * * *
CHAPTER 49 - MALLORY BLACK
Paul Dodd’s warehouse unit was crawling with deputies and FBI agents, now working with the sheriff’s department on the case.
Gloria introduced them to Special Agent in Charge Terry McDaniels, a white-haired man in his early fifties wearing a gray suit and blue tie that matched his eyes. Mal had met the man two years ago when he came in to help with Ashley’s case. He wasn’t like the FBI agents you saw on TV who came in and pushed around the local cops. He was always supportive and seemed to have a decent head on his shoulders. He also seemed to take it hard when they came up blank on Ashley’s killer.
McDaniels informed them that this was a priority case with every available resource assigned.
Mike updated McDaniels and Gloria on the Wes Richards situation.
McDaniels asked, “Do you think Paul Dodd killed him?”
Mike answered, “Makes sense. If Wes knew where he was, Paul wanted to tie up loose ends, make sure nothing is leading us to him.”
McDaniels put a finger to his lip, then looked at Mal. “What do you think?”
“I’m just a consultant,” she said, holding up her open palms.
“Yeah, but I can tell by your expression that you have reservations.”
She glanced at Mike, not wanting to mess with his investigation. He gave her a look: Go ahead.
“Well, this crime’s level of violence seems odd to me. I mean he severed the man’s penis and balls then shoved the penis in his mouth. From what we know of Dodd, he practically worshiped Wes. Even though the man raped Paul and his sister, Paul still talked to him. Hell, he was mad at his sister when she got Wes put in jail.”
“Do we like the sister for this?”
Mike said, “As far as we know, she hasn’t talked to Paul in years. Last his ex-wife heard, the sister was in Portland.”
“We have people looking into her,” Gloria said.
McDaniels asked, “Do we know how often Paul and Wes ta
lked?”
“We pulled Paul’s cell phone records and found that he called Wes at least once a week, talking for at least a half hour at a time. Going back about three years.”
“If not Paul,” McDaniels said, “who else might have done this?”
“I still like Paul for this,” Mike answered. “I can’t imagine who else it might be. Another victim, maybe? Or Paul could have staged the scene to throw us off, figuring we wouldn’t expect that level of violence from him.”
“The timing is too suspicious to be someone else,” Gloria said. “I think we have to operate on the theory that Paul did it, likely to cover up whatever Wes knew about his plans.”
“Did we get anything from the house that can help us find him?” McDaniels asked.
“Forensics is still there. We couldn’t find a computer in the house, though we did find a modem and a box indicating that he had at least one laptop. I’m thinking our suspect took it with him.”
“What about you all? Get anything here?” Mal asked.
Gloria said, “A couple of prints, but nothing else. The warehouse manager said that Paul, who went by the name Richard Howell, had a car. One of those old patrol cruisers sold at auction, painted black, with a dome light and everything.”
Mal said, “That’s the car that picked up Ashley and her friend, Rebecca.”
“What name did you say?” Mike asked.
“Richard Howell. Same name as that murder vic from the other day.”
“Well, that’s weird,” Mike said. “Any connection?”
“I’ve got Cooper and Billings looking into it.”
Mal said, “If they’re not connected, there sure are a lot of weird coincidences around this case.”
McDaniels nodded. “We’ve got a BOLO on the car. Nobody’s reported anything yet, though.”
“So, where do we go from here?” Mike asked.
Mal’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw PRIVATE on the screen. “Will you excuse me?”
“Yeah,” McDaniels said.
She walked away from the trio, and out of the warehouse, beyond the yellow tape, then answered. “Yes?”
“Hello, Mallory.”
