by Cole Baxter
“For the detective,” my mom said as she slid a plate of scones onto the table. She bumped the white plastic envelope, sending it floating onto the floor. I scowled at her as she prepared her home for our guest. I was far more concerned with the status of my child than whether the detective was well-fed. I didn’t have a problem with Detective Reyes, but we didn’t need to impress him for any reason. He worked for us, and I doubted that a leftover scone or some oatmeal raisin cookies would produce better results. He wanted to find my son as much as we did. I scooted my chair away from the table and grasped at the object that had fallen to the ground.
When I picked it up, I realized that I had not completely emptied it of its contents. A tiny sliver of computer paper stuck to the inside of the plastic, like a fortune in a takeout cookie. I pulled it out and read its message, typed in a bold, black font.
Come be a family with us.
I tossed it onto the table, watching it flutter onto the stack of photos. “Over my dead body,” I growled.
Chapter Nineteen
I didn’t even notice that my mom had let Gabriel inside. I was too busy sitting at the table, absolutely fuming at my stalker and his message to me. I didn’t have the patience for games.
“Annabeth,” the detective said, rushing in. “Are you okay? Your mom said you received something in the mail. She believed that it was from your stalker.”
“Yeah, it’s him,” I said flatly. “He even gave me the courtesy of writing a note.”
Detective Reyes’s eyes popped open.
“It was typed,” I said, sliding it across the table. “You won’t get a handwriting analysis from that. The package has writing on it, but I doubt it’s useful.”
The detective studied the note, then looked to the package. He pursed his lips the whole time.
“Am I right?” I asked.
“Most likely,” he said quickly. “We’ll compare it to some other samples back at the precinct.”
“Any leads?” I asked as I twiddled my thumbs.
He shook his head. “Actually, yeah, I do,” he said after thinking for a moment. “After we last spoke, Morrie Jenkins died by suicide.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Do you think it’s because he had something to do with it?” I started breathing faster until I felt like I had sucked all the oxygen in the room.
“No idea.” He frowned. “We’re still working on it. It makes things a little harder if he’s dead. But, there’s a good chance he wasn’t your stalker—not directly, anyway.”
“How do you know?” I asked, my face feeling flushed.
“Well, do you remember when we were chased by that guy in the mask?”
“Yeah, I remember it well,” I said dryly.
“Well, that wasn’t Morrie. He was still in the interrogation room being questioned when we were chased. It wasn’t him. It could be an accomplice or a hired hand, but it wasn’t Morrie.”
I hung my head. I didn’t want Morrie to be my attacker because I didn’t want a pedophile anywhere near my son. But I didn’t like the idea that my captor was still at large. Now, a man was dead because of my accusations. I mean, he wasn’t a good man by any regards. And if he killed himself after dealing with the police, then it was likely that he had something to hide. Still, I didn’t feel good about having a dead guy involved with my investigation.
“I know, it’s hard to hear. He was a pedophile and we have some people investigating him still. We’re pretty wary about him. He was an old guy, and prison hadn’t reformed him whatsoever. If he hadn’t already broken the law, he was waiting for an opportunity. He’s not a loss to society. It’s still not pleasant, though.”
“Yeah, I get that,” I said. “Well, at least your list of suspects is down by one.”
“Not sure if that helps,” he admitted. “So, can you show me what the bastard sent you? I’m glad you thought to put on gloves. We’ll definitely have these checked for prints. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to explain these photos to me as best as you can. You’re in a unique position because you’ve seen this place before. My job is to provide an outside perspective and catch things you were too close to see. How does that sound?”
“Fine,” I said warily. “I guess we’ll start here,” I said, showing him the pictures of the room.
“This is the maze?” he asked.
“The one and only. I actually remember some of these parts.”
I held the pictures in front of his face, trying my best to keep my hands from shaking so he could get a good look. Eventually, I decided it was best to slide them across the table and have him lean down for a closer look.
“I’m sure you’ve read the old reports, but I don’t recall finding an exit to this place. I mean, obviously, I got out, but I don’t know how. I do remember frantically searching, though.”
“Yeah, I remember that,” he said distractedly as he looked through the photos of the brick labyrinth. “Someone spent a lot of time on this.”
“He included my son in these ones,” I said, passing over the next set. “He’s missing some clothing, but it doesn’t look like he was hurt too badly. My son would have made a big ruckus if he was uncomfortable, so I’m not surprised this guy couldn’t handle the noise.”
“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. He stared at the photos, the wheels in his brain spinning furiously.
“I guess I should be thankful that he’s alive,” I said. “That’s what’s most important right now.”
“This is true,” Gabriel muttered. “I’m shocked by how many photos the guy sent of Gregory. I’ve been trying to work on a profile for this guy, and these photos help a lot.”
Next, I passed the photos that I was featured in. For a split second, I thought about hiding them under the envelope or throwing them away. I didn’t want to withhold evidence because it could potentially help our case, but I really didn’t want Detective Reyes to see me like this.
I knew that he had already seen the photos that the police took when I filed my initial report ten years ago. Because of the locations of my injuries, I was mostly undressed for those shots. This was different. When he looked at the pictures from my file, I wasn’t sitting beside him, explaining what had happened to me. Now, I had to look at him as he examined my naked body at the most vulnerable point in my life. It was absolutely embarrassing.
But there was no way I could hide the photos. If it helped him figure out who took Gregory, then it would be worth it. In the meantime, I just had to suck it up and allow for my body to be on display.
Thankfully, the detective was highly professional and sensitive to my embarrassment. He quickly looked at the photos as I muttered an explanation about what he was seeing. He nodded his head and added the photos to the stack.
My face was burning by now. I got up and walked to the kitchen sink as he flipped through the stack of photos. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with cold water, drinking it slowly to buy myself a little more time before I had to sit beside Gabriel. I turned back to watch him bite his bottom lip as he tried to find meaning in the package. My stomach fluttered for some reason, so I chugged the rest of the water and walked around the kitchen in an attempt to settle my nerves.
“What’s the verdict?” my mom asked nervously, nibbling on the side of the scone that she’d set out for the detective.
“I’ve been formulating a profile,” he said slowly. “I’m glad this guy sent you the photos. It helps a lot.”
“Does it?” I asked.
“I think so. I think we’re definitely looking at a psychopath.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Well, for starters, it doesn’t seem as though he has empathy. He’s supposed to be obsessed with you, yet he does things to hurt you. And because it appears you don’t have any known enemies, I’d say that he’s infatuated with you. He’s in love with you but doesn’t care if you’re hurt in the process. That’s abnormal for your average human. When you’re in love with someone, you’
re supposed to do whatever you can to protect them from harm.”
My face reddened a little deeper. The thought of someone loving me in the way I wanted to be loved made me break out in a sweat. The way Gabriel described it was just too tender and pure. It made me nauseated.
“The psychopath is often very intelligent and can fit into society without causing alarm bells to go off. Usually, these people rise to the top of their field—we’re talking CEOs and business owners. Part of their success comes from not having to worry about screwing other people in the process to get to the top.”
“You think that my stalker is a CEO?” I asked, perplexed that anyone with real power would want something to do with me.
“Not necessarily. That’s just a common example. These people are also somewhat likely to play games with their victims because they think they’re too smart to get caught. In this case, it’s been really hard to track this person down, in part to your amnesia. He’s trying to play a game with you by taking your son and delivering these bad memories. He’s a cocky son of a bitch. He’s been careful to not include anything that can identify him. But, with any luck, that hubris will lead to his demise. He may be smart, but we’re just as clever.”
I felt a small wave of relief wash over me. It really seemed like Detective Reyes knew what he was talking about.
“So, I think it’s pretty safe to say that this guy is fairly smart. After all, he’s built a maze and has managed to go undetected for this long. We’re probably looking at someone who can keep up a fairly normal life.”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing normal about this guy. He’s truly awful.”
“I don’t disagree. Would you say that he has emotional instability?”
“I’ve only experienced unstable behavior, so yes.”
“So, we can maybe assume that he’s been ticketed for minor crimes. Maybe he’s gotten speeding tickets or warnings for erratic driving. But, I don’t necessarily think we’re looking at a felon. He’s a planner and well-organized. Criminals who have been through the system are usually dumb and get caught easily. But since he’s managed to evade us for this long, I’m confident that he’s no dummy.”
“That’s not encouraging.”
He gave me a reassuring smile. “No, he’ll slip up eventually. They eventually do. I’m also going to look into people who have a background in handiwork. It’s possible that this guy had someone do the maze construction for him. If so, it would be too easy for us to get someone to crack. If he did the work himself, then that should help us narrow things down. My guess is that a guy like this is proud of his handiwork. Does anyone like this come to mind?”
“Not really,” I muttered.
“That’s okay. We can figure this out. The thing I don’t understand is, why didn’t he take you instead of your son? Your brother was disabled and your son is too little to stop someone capable of kidnapping. He could have snatched you out of the shower instead of taking your son. It seems foolish for a smart man to increase his chances of getting caught if he’s really just after you.”
I swallowed hard. “I think it’s the game. It’s like he gets off on this stuff. In his note, he mentioned being a family. I’m really worried that he’s not going to let go of Gregory.”
Gabriel’s face fell. “I think you might be right. He’s potentially not using Gregory as leverage. He’s trying to complete the whole set. He got your husband out of the way. Now, he’s got your only child. In the end, he’ll try to take you so he can create his own family. This is someone who either doesn’t have a family of his own or who spends enough time away from them that he could pull this off. He’s trying to replace your husband. He could hold you two underground for life.”
I felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs. Everything Gabriel said made perfect sense. It was strange that as someone who had been repeatedly assaulted by this monster, I didn’t know him as well as a police officer who was new to the case. If anything, I should have been an expert on the guy, not Gabriel.
After much insistence on my mom’s part, Gabriel took a cookie and a cup of coffee. He was careful not to eat and drink too close to the photos, lest he contaminate the evidence. He engaged in some small talk with my mother, though I tuned it out. I really didn’t care about hospital security, nor did it seem pertinent to the case. After hearing Detective Reyes’s description of my stalker, it didn’t seem as though Tom was in any more danger. I doubted that my brother fit into his ideal family fantasy.
“I’m going to have to take the package with me,” the detective said, jolting me from my daydream in which I killed my stalker.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” I muttered. I had no use for it, nor did I want pictures of my terrified son in my house. I knew that if I had them in my possession, I would be tempted to look at them. I preferred to have them destroyed, but the police could utilize them better than I could anyway.
“Unless there’s anything else you need me for, I think I’ll take these to the lab and have them processed into evidence. I’ll let you know if we find any fingerprints or DNA. It’s probably not likely, but we’ll give it a close look anyway.”
“Thanks,” I said weakly. “I appreciate your help.”
“No problem,” he said. “What do you have planned for the rest of your day?”
I couldn’t come up with a response. I stood there with my mouth open, somehow stunned by the fact that he was asking me if I had plans.
“I—I don’t know,” I stuttered.
“I only ask because you clearly have someone after you,” he replied calmly. “If I have a general idea of what you plan on doing, I’ll be the first one there if anything goes wrong.”
“Oh,” I said, my face falling. “I hadn’t really thought about that yet. My mind has been all over the place.”
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” he said quickly, looking sheepish. “I promise I’m not trying to invade your privacy. You really don’t have to tell me. This isn’t part of my official questioning.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I said, understanding what he was after. “Like I said, I haven’t really planned out my day. I might be back at the hospital to see my brother at some point. Is there anything I should or shouldn’t be doing?”
He nodded. “If you’re going out alone, maybe tell your mother your plans.”
I hid my scoff. I wasn’t particularly pleased with my mother at the moment. Of course he would tell me to give my mom my location. It was just like being a teen again.
“Maybe try to relax and see if any memories come back to you,” he suggested. “I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but we could really use a lead.”
I nodded. “Maybe I can get in to see my therapist. I tend to remember more after we talk.”
“That would be awesome,” he said, his voice full of excitement. Suddenly, I felt like I had no choice but to go. I really wanted to find my son, and for some odd reason, felt the need to impress the detective. If I could help him do his job in the process of getting my life back to normal, then I would be happy.
“Well, keep me updated,” he said. “Good luck with your therapist, and make sure to call 911 if you think you might be in danger. Even if it’s just a funny feeling in your gut, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“Got it,” I replied. “Thanks for coming by.”
“Anytime,” he said, flashing me a smile. He gathered up the evidence and put it into a plastic bag, zipping up the top. I sank back down into my chair as he said goodbye to my mother and let himself out of the house. I couldn’t quite explain the feeling, but I really didn’t want him to go.
Chapter Twenty
After a few hours of sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the wall, I got a call back from my therapist. Her receptionist must have heard the desperation in my voice because I wasn’t expecting to get into her office on such short notice. When I heard Dr. Andrews on the line, nervous excitement flooded my body. With any luck, talking to her would help me m
ake sense of the pictures and potentially help out with the case.
“James gave me your message,” the therapist said. “I understand that there was a recent development in your case that you need to discuss.”
“That’s right,” I said breathlessly. “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone in case anyone is listening.”
“Of course,” she replied calmly. “Do you think you could come in at two?”
“Yes, that works,” I said eagerly.
“Excellent. I’ll have you added to the schedule. Do you think you’re ready for more intense hypnotherapy?”
I bit my lip. I was scared that it wouldn’t work and terrified that it would. “I don’t know. I want to remember, but—”
“I understand,” she replied. “I have to go to an appointment now, but we can discuss our options more when you get here. I look forward to seeing you soon.”
“Thanks,” I said meekly before hanging up the phone.
My mom walked into the kitchen and slipped her shoes on at the door. “Who was that?” she asked.
“Therapist,” I responded flatly. “I suppose I’m supposed to tell you that I’m going to see her in a little bit. Do you want to tell me where you’re going, or is this just a one-way street kind of thing?”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “If you must know, I’m going to cover part of a shift. My schedule has been so messed up recently, and others have been helpful in covering for me, so I don’t really have a say when I work. I have an appointment with my own therapist, and then I’m going to see your brother.”
