"Another long day," Jules said.
He shook his head and laughed derisively, then calmed down. "I can't believe she's gone," he said wistfully. "And what that maniac did to her body. How does someone do something like that?"
"Hard to say," Jules responded. "It's never easy to read the mind of a serial killer. Every case is different."
"We have to find this lunatic," he said in a wounded voice.
"Maybe you can help me out," Jules suggested.
"Whatever you need," he said.
Jules went right to it. "You taught philosophy classes at Southern Utah University. Is that right?"
"Yes," he answered slowly.
"Are you familiar with Herman Hesse's writings?"
"Yes, I am. I used some of his novels in a class I taught. His novels often explored philosophical ideas."
"Could you tell me about Steppenwolf?"
"Is this actually going to help?" He gave Jules a dubious look.
"It might," she said.
"All right. Steppenwolf is a novel about a miserable, tortured man named Harry Haller. He struggles with his divided nature and hates the bourgeois society he lives in. He's on the verge of suicide when one night he happens upon a place called the Magic Theatre where he's given a treatise of the Steppenwolf. Steppenwolf represents the dual nature of man—the human and the wolf. The wolf only desires physical pleasure and it doesn't matter how he gets it. The human craves order and respect and responsibility. The dualistic nature of the Steppenwolf, who Haller begins to associate himself with, often leads to turmoil. Later, Haller meets a woman, Hermine, who helps lead him deeper into his dual nature, especially that of the wolf. To capsulize, the essence of the novel is rooted in its exploration of the dual nature of human beings."
Jules felt an internal shudder of excitement. It fit perfectly. The Calligrapher was never really the Calligrapher, that was all a ruse. He was the Steppenwolf—half man, half wolf, willing to go to extraordinary lengths, any lengths, to achieve the physical pleasure he sought, yet having just as powerful a need for respect and order. Without her knowing it, was Audrey Jean his Hermine? Did she lead him deeper into his wolf nature? Is that the reason he made his victims' bodies a shrine to her?
The thought crossed Jules' mind that the notion of the Steppenwolf could be another ruse, another diversion, or it could even be coincidence. It could mean nothing at all. The Calligrapher loved to play games. Was this another game? There was another possibility. Perhaps he wanted her to have a better understanding of who he was.
A part of Jules didn't want to believe it was Caleb. And it didn't make sense anyway. Caleb was only halfway through the book, and since the killings started two years ago, it was unlikely the book had served as an inspiration for the killings where Caleb was concerned. She needed to find out who had given Caleb the book.
"So, the wolf will do whatever he needs to do to satisfy his need for physical pleasure?" She said it absently as an afterthought.
"Yes."
"Do you own a copy of Steppenwolf?"
"Why, yes I do. I have a collection of Herman Hesse's novels in my personal library."
"Do you know if the book is still there?"
"Well, I wouldn't actually know. I've had no reason to look for it."
Jules went silent a few moments.
"What happened with Caleb's sister? I understand she left Gideon too."
"Yes. Denise Sanderson. A few years younger than Caleb. When their mother died, Caleb looked out for her. From what I can recall, after high school, she went up north to Salt Lake City. Attended the University of Utah. Sometime later, I believe she got married. That's about it. I'm not aware of her ever coming back for a visit. Gideon isn't for everyone."
"All right. Thanks. There's something else you might be able to help me with."
"Certainly."
"Caleb," she said quietly.
"What about him?"
"Something Heath said. Was Caleb ever in trouble when he was young, perhaps when he was in high school?"
"Caleb?" Nichols shifted his jaw. He scratched his beard and searched for the memory.
"It was such a long time ago. Kids' stuff, really. And Caleb paid the price for what he did."
"If it's not relevant, I'll pretend as if I never heard it. That's a promise."
"It was a prank gone wrong," he started. "Not sure I'll remember everything correctly, but I'll try. They were in high school. Caleb, Heath, and Dallin. Because of what happened, Heath and Dallin were suspended, a week or something like that. Caleb was expelled. They were seniors.
"Someone in the neighborhood in Cedar City saw Caleb's old pickup truck. Thought it looked suspicious and wrote down the license plate. That's how they got caught. It happened the week before our rivalry football game with Cedar Crest. The Blackhawks. They had a mascot, a black hawk. They kept it in a cage in an athletic department office, I believe. The plan had been to set the bird free. Things didn't exactly go as planned. Caleb broke in while Heath and Dallin waited in the truck. Cold feet, if I remember correctly. Caleb broke the bird's neck trying to get it out of the cage. Since the bird was dead, Caleb decided to … um … to use his knife. He cut the initials GHS, for Gideon High School, into the black bird's chest. That's what happened, as far as I can remember."
It took a moment for Jules to collect herself. "Let me see if I have this right. Around twenty years ago, Caleb Sanderson carved initials into a bird's chest back in high school and no one thought it might be relevant." Jules fought to keep her voice down. "I specifically asked Heath and Dallin if they were aware of any incident that might have been a predictor or indicator, and they said they weren't. Yet, they not only knew, they were directly involved. Does anyone here actually want to catch this killer?"
"Of course, we do, Jules. Of course, we do," he said, his voice soft and appeasing. "I just don't see how something that happened twenty years ago would be relevant. And Caleb's never done anything like that since then. It was a teenage prank. Nothing more. Besides, I don't believe Caleb Sanderson's that kind of man. As a matter of fact, I'd bet my life on it."
Jules stewed. "But you're not betting your life," she whispered intensely. "You're betting other people's lives. I'll tell you the same thing I told Heath. It's going to be someone you know, and it's going to be someone you don't suspect. We can't take anything or anyone for granted. Not until they're cleared."
Nichols looked perplexed. "Maybe you're right. But Jules, you do recall that Caleb Sanderson saved your life."
"Yes," Jules stated flatly. "I remember. And I'm grateful to him. But saving my life doesn't clear him. What if Caleb was the one who removed the firing pin from the Glock in the first place, and his saving my life was simply a means of throwing us off. I'm not saying that's what happened, but it's exactly the kind of thing the Calligrapher would do to muddy the waters. He'd do anything to make himself appear innocent. We have to be diligent and follow the evidence."
"Oh my, Jules," he said, shaking his head, a concerned look in his eyes. "I never realized you were this hard."
Jules blinked and felt herself blanch. "I have to be if we're going to catch him," she told him.
Nichols looked into his empty shot glass. "Well. Perhaps I've had enough for one night."
Jules watched Mayor Nichols shuffle toward his tent.
She felt betrayed by Heath and Dallin and uneasy about Caleb. Jules' list kept shifting. Three, maybe four suspects.
Chapter 41
Gone
"I'm so sorry," she said, brushing away the tears as she spoke. "I don't know what happened. When I came out of the porta-potty, she was gone."
Sharon Gleason looked all around the porta-potty area as if she were still trying to locate Addy.
Heath checked the porta-potties. They were empty.
"You didn't hear a thing?" Heath asked. "She didn't scream or anything?"
"No," Sharon said in a pleading tone. "I didn't hear anything. We were taking our mornin
g walk and when we finished, we came to the porta-potties, like we always do."
"How long were you in there?" Heath asked. "And did Addy use the bathroom too?"
"Addy almost never uses the bathroom after our walks. I'm pretty sure she didn't this time either. I spent maybe three or four minutes in there. When I came out, she was gone. I spent a few minutes looking for her."
Heath checked his watch as if he were trying to add up the timing. "Okay. So, it's been ten minutes since you last saw her?" he asked.
"Yes," Sharon said.
Jules was letting Heath ask the questions.
Each time Sharon answered one of Heath's questions, she'd glance at Jules as if seeking absolution. Jules ignored her.
Dallin walked around the porta-potties and studied the ground. The ground was still damp and covered with a multitude of footprints. "Don't see no signs of a struggle," he said, scratching his head.
"Ten minutes," Heath repeated as if he couldn't reconcile the time frame with Addy's disappearance. His blue eyes looked troubled and he rubbed his jaw. "Jules, could Addy have taken off on her own?"
"No," Jules answered sharply. "After what happened to Nikki, Addy's scared to death. She would never take off on her own."
Heath shook his head. "I don't know. There's no way she could have gotten across the river into Gideon. Guards have that covered. How could she have disappeared without anyone hearing her or seeing anything? Doesn't make sense. Either she went off on her own or she went willingly. If she was grabbed, where could he have taken her in broad daylight?" Heath stared up the mountain.
"She did not take off willingly," Jules nearly shouted at Heath.
"All right, all right. I'm just thinking out loud. I'm trying to piece together what might have happened here."
"Don't see no one up there," Dallin said, shading his eyes with his hand as he stared up the mountain.
"What about a search party?" Jules asked. "We need to get to her before …" and she stopped in mid-sentence.
"They must have taken the path to the dam. If they were on the mountain path, we'd be able to see them," he explained. "Those are the only ways to get to the valley on the other side of the mountain other than using the back roads, and you can't get to the back roads from Gideon." Heath looked at his watch. "They've only been gone a little over ten minutes. That means they almost certainly would have to be on the path to the dam. That'd be my guess."
Jules looked up at the mountain but couldn't see the path Heath was talking about.
"All right. We'll grab as many people as we can, then we'll take off. We'll head north down to the dam, see if we can pick up any signs." Heath looked at Jules. "Don't worry, Jules. We'll find her."
"I'm so sorry," Sharon said to Jules.
Jules bit her lip but didn't say anything.
A light suddenly seemed to go on in Heath's face. "Damn. That means anyone still left in camp can be crossed off the suspect list. I'll have the professor compile a list of everyone in camp or on guard duty."
*****
After the search was over, Heath steered Jules away from the others and led her to the outskirts of the camp. Jules knew he was agitated. The search had offered up no clues as to Addy's whereabouts.
Heath's hands were on his hips, his index finger ticking at his belt. He chewed on the inside of his cheek.
"This was you, Jules," he stated matter-of-factly. "You're not fooling anyone. The only one missing from camp is Cole. Cole," he repeated, raising his voice. "Are you going to try and tell me that Cole is the Calligrapher?" He didn't wait for Jules to answer him. "No. I didn't think so," he answered. "Now, since Cole is the only one who's not around, that means Addy either left on her own, or she's with Cole. There are no other options."
Jules held her ground. "I don't know where Addy's at or who took her. But I don't believe for a minute she left on her own. She certainly wouldn't wander around the mountains alone. That means someone took her. Whether it's Cole or someone else, I don't know," she told him.
He stared at her. Jules knew Heath was looking for any sign of a tell from her. Jules didn't give him one.
"If that's all?" she said dryly. She turned and walked away. She wasn't going to confide in Heath.
*****
Jules sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag, the teakwood chest in her lap. Something nagged at her, something she couldn't see but knew was there—like an invisible sliver. It had to be there because she could feel it. But for the life of her, she couldn't find it.
She lifted the hasp and opened the chest and stared at the trophies. The locket caught her eye first as it always did. She lifted it out of the chest and opened it. She studied the inset with the pictures of the young Beckermans from over thirty years ago. Young, beautiful, and in love. Jules remembered the look of joy and surprise on Carol Beckerman's face when she'd opened the birthday present from her father.
Then she remembered the empty eyes that stared up at her in the warehouse.
Jules put the locket away and settled on top of her sleeping bag. It was too hot and muggy to sleep inside it. She let her head settle into the pillow Dallin had given her. She would find him. She would find the Calligrapher. Languaging would be the key. You can mask a voice and alter the way it sounds, but you can't hide languaging skills or the rhythmic pattern of someone's speech. The conversation she'd had with the Calligrapher was permanently imprinted in her mind. She remembered the cool, casual, almost lazy voice that had given her directions to the warehouse. The one thing missing from that voice was any hint of rural languaging. Jules had been whittling down her suspect list since the day she arrived in Gideon.
Garrett and Heath were the best fits as far as language skills went. Next was Caleb. Maybe Josh if he were relaxed enough. But none of them felt right to her.
But it had to be someone.
She reached over and put her hand on the teakwood chest and closed her eyes. She was getting close. She could feel it.
Chapter 42
The Hafokas
Jules was playing games and probing in areas he found unsettling. Clever, clever Jules. How long would it be? One day, maybe two. No doubt, she was getting close. He couldn't wait any longer. He'd already waited longer than he should have. His rationale for waiting was tied to the fondness he felt for her. He thought of their relationship as a kind of kinship.
He felt edgy but in a good way, felt the adrenaline literally zipping through his veins. He felt high as a kite, but when the moment came, he'd be cucumber cool like always.
The sky was dark and brilliant. A beautiful night for it. Couldn't have been any better. Cool temps and a deep black palette of sky filled with a hundred zillion stars. He was spying on the Hafoka twins through his rifle's night vision scope while the Hafokas were spying on the grays with their binoculars. They were two hundred yards away lying prone on the crest of a hill, rifles on the ground next to them. The Hafoka twin to the right was watching the grays with his binoculars, the one to the left was busy feeding his face.
He'd volunteered to check on the Hafokas earlier to see if the grays were gathering yet. And they were. He'd made it a point to volunteer at least every other day, always in the evening. His plan would only work if the grays came at night and only if the timing was right. The infected would be his unwitting accomplices. And as it turned out, the timing couldn't have been better. He marveled at how everything seemed to be falling into place for him. Fate might be a fickle mistress, but on this night, he had that flighty bitch tucked neatly into his hip pocket. She would be his good luck charm.
He'd made sure no one saw him leave or come back. That way the only witness to him checking on the Hafokas would be the mayor.
The Hafokas were nervous about the grays and had wanted to leave, but he convinced them to wait until the grays were on the move before heading back to Gideon. He explained that that way the camp would have a better idea of exactly when to expect the infected. He told them everyone would be settling into the hydroel
ectric plant, and they should go directly there when they returned. They weren't thrilled at having to wait, but they played along just like he knew they would.
After he'd returned to camp earlier, he reported to Mayor Nichols that there was no activity. Everything was hunky-dory.
He aimed his scope's cross-hairs on the back of the head of Sione Hafoka. At least he thought it was Sione. He was just getting acclimated to his target. To his chagrin, he realized he'd have to roll the Hafokas down the hill to get them in the truck. They were far too big to drag down the hill.
The first shot would be shooting-fish-in-a-barrel easy. The Hafokas, of course, were really big fish, who, considering their whaleish dimensions, made for great targets. He was aware the second shot might be more difficult. He'd have to get it off quickly before the Hafoka twin that was still alive had time to react. But he wasn't worried.
He checked his watch. Ten-fifteen. He'd left as soon as it turned dark, crossing the river about two miles south of camp. Night had always been his friend. Since Nikki, security in the camp had been tightened. Three guards stationed at the dam now and three roaming the campgrounds. What they didn't grasp was that it was never going to be enough. No one thought to secure the area south of camp, and there was no reason to since there was nothing there. His only challenge—it wasn't much—came when he had to evade the roamers. But they never saw him. Never heard him either. He moved like a ghost. He skirted the base of the mountain till he was well clear of camp. When he arrived at the spot, he swam across the river. He'd always been a strong swimmer. The pickup was parked on the Gideon side of the river. Over the past few nights, he'd collected everything he needed along with the truck.
Wouldn't be long now. He'd given himself two hours to do what was required. Despite his projected timeline, he would wait till the moment was right.
He switched his attention to the grays. They dillydallied on the freeway like an army of drug addicts waiting for a fix. And he planned to give it to them. He figured they were waiting for direction from the alphas. He scanned the area for any alphas, looking for anyone that moved with a normal gait. He spotted one. A male, walking near the head of the group. He kept his eye on the alpha.
Apocalypse Journeys (Book 2): Finding AJ Page 28
