by C. M. Sutter
I shook my head with thoughts of the sheer horror she must have endured. “What law enforcement agency is involved?”
“I believe the call came in from a police sergeant in Gilman. Alice, at the ICU nurses’ station, spoke to him. She can help you with that.”
“Is there a chance of seeing the girl? She won’t know we’re present if she’s under sedation, anyway.”
He shrugged. “I suppose, but I’ll need both of you to wear surgical masks. Her condition is iffy, and I don’t want her exposed to germs of any kind.”
I put away my notepad and stood. “Whatever you say, Dr. Adams, and we appreciate your time.”
“Right this way, agents. I’ll take you upstairs.”
We followed another white-walled hallway to the elevators. The ICU wing was located on the second floor, where the doctor left us in the capable hands of the head nurse, Alice, at the nurses’ station.
I introduced myself to her when the doctor left to do his rounds. “Alice, I’m Special Agent Jade Monroe, and this is Special Agent J.T. Harper. We’re from the FBI, and we have reason to believe the young lady in ICU is part of an ongoing case we’re investigating. Dr. Adams said you spoke with someone from law enforcement earlier.”
“Yes, I did. I have his name written down.” She flipped to the second page of a notebook on the shelf behind the counter. “It’s right here. His name is Sergeant Lewis from the Gilman Police Department. He wanted to make sure we kept her clothing and the items the EMTs gave us”—she looked around and lowered her voice to a whisper—“the bindings and gag. He said somebody from the police department would stop by later to get them.”
“So nobody has picked them up yet?”
“Not so far.”
“May we see those items? We’ll put on gloves.”
A worried expression crossed her face as she looked down each corridor.
“Alice, we are the FBI. We’re kind of sitting in the king seat, if you know what I mean.”
“Okay, come with me.” She tipped her head to the right. “I put the items in a bag back here.”
We rounded the counter and followed Alice into a small data storage room behind the nurses’ station. She pointed at a bag on a shelf. “Please”—she handed each of us a pair of latex gloves from a dispenser—“put these on. I don’t want to get into trouble with anyone.”
J.T. nodded. “Understood. Is there a place we can spread these items out to take a better look at them?”
“I guess you can lay everything out on the floor. It’s plenty clean. I’ll make sure nobody comes in while you’re back here.”
“Thanks, Alice.”
She gave us a dubious look and closed the door at her back.
I stretched the gloves over my fingers, and J.T. did the same. I dumped the contents of the bag onto the floor and spread them out.
“J.T., it’s definitely her.” I scraped the breast pocket of the red shirt with my gloved fingernail. As blood stained and shredded as the polo shirt was, I could still make out the words Petro Fuel and Food under the dried blood. I remembered Doug telling us that all of the employees wore the same red polo shirts. “Remember, we saw her on the surveillance tape? She had on this very shirt.”
“Yeah, I agree. The clothing confirms it. Let’s check out the rest of the stuff.”
Her khaki pants were torn and stained with blood. Several lengths of duct tape, some with strands of torn hair, lay among the items. A pair of shoes, socks, and underwear, all covered with dried blood, lay there too.
“There’s an extra sock, and it isn’t hers.” I held it up and studied it. “It’s his, and I bet that bastard jammed it down her throat.”
J.T. grimaced. “You know, the rest of his victims went through the same nightmare or worse. She just happens to be the only one we know of that has lived through his torture.”
“I need to take a few pictures of these items, then I want to get Alice’s best estimate of when she thinks Jane will wake up and if there’s any chance we’ll be able to talk to her.”
Chapter 29
I closed the door to the data storage room and approached Alice.
“The bag is back on the shelf, and we appreciate you giving us a chance to look inside. I’ll contact Sergeant Lewis myself to talk about the evidence. Here’s my card. We’re going to take a quick peek in at the girl then grab a bite to eat in the cafeteria. If anyone shows up for that evidence before we’re back, call me right away.”
“I understand, Agent Monroe.”
“Good. Do you have any idea when Jane’s sleep medication is going to wear off?”
“Jane? As in Jane Doe?”
I smiled. “Yes, as in Jane Doe.” I couldn’t tell Alice any more than that. Hospitals were notorious for watercooler fodder, and other than the polo shirt from Petro Fuel and Food, we didn’t have actual proof that the injured girl barely clinging to life was in fact Jane Weeks.
Alice checked the time. “I’d say it should wear off in an hour or so, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be coherent. That head injury could affect anything, including her speech. We just don’t know yet. When it’s all said and done, it’s the doctor’s call if he allows you to talk to her, not mine.”
I patted her hand. “I understand. We’ll check back this afternoon to see if she’s awake. The doctor said you’d give us masks to wear.”
“Certainly. I’ll get them. She’s in cubicle six. It’s the third room on the left.”
J.T. and I entered through the sliding glass door for Jane’s room. Beyond the privacy curtains, we saw her hooked up to machines that monitored her breathing, heart rate, and pulse. Fluids were being pumped into her body by IV drips. With our masks in place, we crept into the room quietly and stood on either side of her bed. I imagined the horrible scars she’d wear and face daily every time she looked in the mirror. They would be a reminder of his violence—if she made it through this ordeal and lived. Her face, swollen to the point of looking as if it would burst, was unrecognizable as the woman in the picture we showed Dr. Adams. Now I understood why he couldn’t confirm she was Jane. Her body was covered in gauze wraps, likely to protect her countless stitched injuries. It was painful to look at her and only fueled my fire to capture that maniac. I jerked my chin toward the door. “Come on. I’ve seen enough.”
We pulled off the masks, and I dropped them into the waste can on our way out. We took the elevator to the lower level, where the cafeteria was located. The appetite I had earlier faded after seeing Jane’s condition.
We slid our trays along the rails at the buffet counter. I grabbed a small plastic container that held a Caesar salad, and J.T. ordered a cheeseburger. With a bottle of iced tea each, we paid for our food and took seats at a small table in the corner of the room. I knew I had to eat something even though my mind kept going back to the vision of Jane.
I leaned across the table and spoke in a whisper since the room was crowded. “As of right now, we have nothing. The killer’s trail has gone cold, and we don’t have enough information about Todd Johnson to pull up his plate number and the state his car is licensed in. The BOLO is nearly useless.” I ate my salad as we discussed the situation.
“If anyone can get that information, it’s Spelling. We just have to be patient, Jade. Something will pop. Meanwhile, if Jane wakes up and is coherent enough and able to speak, we could get valuable information from her. She spent more time with the killer than Doc Wilson or Cherry, and it was during daylight hours. If anyone can give a sketch artist an accurate description of him, it’s going to be her. She’s our only living hope.”
I wiped my mouth with the paper napkin and balled it up. “We have to get the Gilman PD on board. The last thing we need is a tug-of-war battle over evidence and jurisdiction. That maniac has caused deaths in three states that we know of and possibly more. We, as the FBI, should be calling the shots, but I’d prefer everyone working together cohesively.” I pulled out my cell phone and began tapping the keys.
�
��What are you doing?”
“Seeing how far Gilman is from here. Our best bet is a face-to-face with Sergeant Lewis and the officers that found Jane.” I looked at the results on my phone. “Okay, it’s only a twenty-minute drive. Chow down. We have to go.”
I Googled the number for the Gilman PD and made the call. I told the officer that answered who I was and that I needed to speak with Sergeant Lewis immediately. I was put on hold for a solid two minutes and had the feeling this was the typical power play game. I had been down that road before when Jack and I dealt with the police department in Green River Falls, Wisconsin, nearly six months ago. The phone finally clicked, and a different person’s voice answered.
“Hello, Sergeant Jim Lewis speaking. How may I help you?”
I passed the phone to J.T. I knew how these sleepy little towns operated and didn’t like it one bit, but we had a job to do and a killer to catch. I didn’t have the time or the patience to play their foolish gender role games.
“This is Special Agent J.T. Harper with the FBI.” J.T. gave me a wink and a grin as he spoke with a deep, assertive voice. “This call is in reference to the young lady that was transported to Iroquois Memorial Hospital in Watseka earlier today. We’re going to need all of the evidence that was gathered and the information you have on that case. This is part of an ongoing investigation.” J.T. paused and waited him out.
“I understand, Agent Harper. We’ll be happy to assist in any way we can.”
“That’s just what I was hoping you’d say. My partner, Agent Monroe, and I will be there shortly. Thank you, Sergeant Lewis. Goodbye.”
I scooped up our lunch trays, dumped the trash, and we headed out. I called Agent Spelling as J.T. drove and updated him on what we knew for sure.
“Boss, the bloody and slashed polo shirt was the same one she wore in the surveillance tape from the truck stop. We’re pretty confident the girl in ICU is Jane. We’re hoping she wakes up soon and the doctor gives us permission to talk to her if she’s capable.”
“Okay, tread lightly with the PD and be respectful. We don’t want them holding back any information from us.”
“Understood, sir, and I’ll update you after our visit with them.”
We reached the building in Gilman that held the government offices. The tiny tan brick structure looked as if it had been a cozy little house in days gone by. Saying it was small was an understatement, but it carried a welcoming, homey vibe. The only offices inside the building were city hall and the police department. The volunteer fire department was down the street, a block away.
J.T. parked the car, and we rounded the building to the main entrance. Inside the front doors were a coat rack, several guest chairs, and a table holding magazines. An empty counter that looked as though it should have been manned stood directly in front of us.
I nudged J.T. and pointed at the sign on the wall. “It looks like the police department is this way.”
A short hallway led us to the only office at the end of that corridor—the police department. A wall of glass separated us from the counter that had an officer behind it. I assumed it was the man I spoke to on the phone earlier.
He looked up past the pair of bifocals perched on his nose. “May I help you?”
J.T. pulled out his badge and flashed it at the officer. We didn’t have time for formalities.
“Yes, I believe Sergeant Lewis is expecting us.”
The officer studied J.T.’s badge, looked both of us over, then told us to have a seat and disappeared behind a door.
“Seriously, why are the small-town law enforcement agencies so damn uptight? They act like we’re invading their territory, yet we all want to reach the same goal.”
“Sounds like the voice of experience.”
I smirked. “If you only knew the half of it.”
The door opened again, and a different man walked through and headed toward us. He looked to be in his early fifties and wore glasses. He was a slender man with graying hair and had a deep dimple firmly planted in the middle of his chin. He stuck out his hand, and we stood and shook it.
“I’m Sergeant Lewis. Agents Harper and Monroe, I assume?”
“That’s correct,” J.T. responded. “My partner, Agent Monroe, and I were told your officers were the first on the scene after the 9-1-1 call about the young lady stumbling out of the woods.”
“That’s right, Agent Harper.” He tipped his head to the right. “Let’s talk in my office.”
We followed the sergeant past the door that he had walked through earlier to the only office in that hallway.
“Have a seat,” he said as he motioned to the two guest chairs facing the desk. He closed the door behind us. “Officer Collins was dispatched along with the fire department EMTs this morning to a 9-1-1 distress call. Apparently that young lady appeared out of nowhere and was nearly hit by a car. By the time my officer and the EMTs arrived, she was unconscious.”
I cleared my throat before speaking. “We were told she was bound and gagged as well.”
“That’s correct, Agent Monroe, and the hospital is holding that evidence for us along with her clothing.”
“Sir, what do you plan to do with the evidence?” I asked.
An odd expression crossed his face. It appeared as though he hadn’t given that much thought.
“Do you have a crime lab here?”
He coughed into his fist. “Well, no, but we’ll send the evidence out to the state crime lab.”
“The assailant is long gone, you know, and most state crime labs are weeks behind in their work. Actually, the man we’re tracking has been on the move since Arkansas, as far as we know. He’s killed numerous people and left them in his wake. Jane got lucky.”
“Jane?”
“Yes, sir. We’re quite confident that the young lady in ICU at Iroquois Memorial Hospital is Jane Weeks. She was abducted south of Champaign from a truck stop and hasn’t been seen since. We’re certain she was left to die, but luckily she survived and may be able to identify her assailant.”
Sergeant Lewis looked surprised. “So, you’ve already been to the hospital to see her?”
J.T. responded, “Yes, we have. Like Agent Monroe said, we’ve been tracking this man for several days now. We have him on video, driving away from that truck stop in a stolen semi. Jane was with him.”
He huffed. “My officers found tire tracks in the dirt at the location where she was found, and they certainly weren’t tracks from a semi.”
“Have they found anything else at that scene?”
He tapped a pencil on his desk while he avoided eye contact with us. “Only a bloody matted area on the ground where she may have spent the night.”
“You sure? Nothing else?” J.T. asked.
“Nope, not a thing.”
“Okay, no matter. That semi has already been located elsewhere, and the tracks you found were probably from a Buick LaCrosse. Like I said before, he’s long gone, but we’ll take care of the evidence the hospital has placed to the side. That, along with the evidence we’ve gathered during this investigation, is going to the FBI’s crime lab. Are the officers that arrived at the scene available for a few questions?”
“It was Officer Collins, Agent Harper. We have a small force here, and he was the only officer that was dispatched. I’ll get him.” The sergeant stood, walked around the desk, and exited the office.
“We should talk to the EMTs too and see what they can tell us. They said Jane was unconscious when they arrived, right?”
J.T. nodded. “That’s what they said.”
“Shoot. If only there was something she might have said.”
“With any luck we may have a chance to talk to her later.”
The door opened behind us, and Officer Collins stepped through. Sergeant Lewis made the introductions.
“I’ll let you three talk among yourselves.” The sergeant left the room.
I pulled out my notepad. “Officer Collins, we understand you were the only officer
initially on the scene.”
“That’s correct. I followed the EMTs to the site.”
“What did you see when you arrived?”
“A very distraught husband and wife leaning over a young lady lying on the road.”
J.T. spoke up. “Was she coherent?”
“No, sir, she was out cold. The EMTs removed her gag and bindings and got her on a stretcher then took off for the hospital. I snapped off a few pictures right as I got there.”
“You did? May we see them?”
“Sure.” He stood, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and tapped the gallery icon to the most current pictures. He handed his phone to J.T. “I took four shots while the EMTs were getting the gurney.”
The pictures showed Jane facedown on the pavement. Her wrists were bound with duct tape, and her head was turned to the side. She was covered in blood, especially on her right side. With the amount of blood on her face, it was difficult to see the duct tape spread across her mouth, but Officer Collins pointed it out.
I slid the pictures to the left as I studied them. “This must be the most disturbing scene you’ve ever come across.”
“Most definitely, ma’am.”
“What about the couple that called it in?”
“Yes, a husband and wife that got turned around after filling their car up with gas. The husband said they were heading to Chicago for a funeral, and they were from Hannibal.”
“Hannibal? And they were going to a funeral?” I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “You just can’t make that stuff up.”
“We’re going to need the witness statement from them.”
“Sure thing, Agent Harper.”
“What about the site where she was located? The sergeant said it was searched thoroughly?”
“That’s correct, ma’am. Nothing there except car tracks and a bloody area behind the barricade where the road ends. There looked to be a disturbance in the dirt between where the car stopped and the barricade.”
“He probably dragged her back there,” J.T. said.
