by Jenn Vakey
Detective Wilcome seemed to be considering the best way to answer her question. After a moment’s contemplation, he delicately replied, “That’s what we are trying to find out.”
* * *
“The first victim went to the same coffee shop as Hartley, and the third and seventh have been to the same convenient store, but that’s all we have found so far. We are still waiting for the lists from the victims’ families. As of right now, there is no place all of the victims have in common,” Adam Johnson said when Wilcome walked back into the room.
“Where do we stand with the surveillance tapes?”
“We have identified all of the tenants on the tapes; now we are working on the other visitors. Matthews and Jerkins are on their way to the apartment building now to have the tenants name as many of them as they can. That should help us narrow the list.” Detective Butcher had pinned all of the faces onto a white board, and was labeling each of them.
“I may be able to help a little,” said Rilynne as she walked up behind her. Butcher tensed up as if she was uncomfortable with having to work directly with Rilynne, but she would never have said it aloud. “This one is the niece of Annette McGhee in 302. Her name is Natalie. And that one,” pointing to an elderly man, “is her, um… let’s say boyfriend. I think his name is Arnold Lee. That,” pointing to another picture, “is Carlos. I don’t have a last name, but he’s the delivery guy for Pizza Express. And this one is my mom,” she said with a grin. There was just something funny about seeing her mother’s face on a police suspect board. “Although as of two this morning, she was about two thousand miles away. Let’s see, ask Nicole Benson about this one,” she pointed at the attractive man in the bottom corner, hesitated, then to another. “And this one, too.”
As Rilynne took her seat back at the table, the rest of the detectives started to trickle in. The interviews with the previous victims’ families had been finished, but after reviewing the lists, they found nothing of use. There was the occasional overlap here and there, but there was not a single place every one of the victims had in common. In fact, Ellis Reynolds, the fourth victim, had been released from an eighteen-month prison sentence just two days before he was abducted. According to his wife, he had not left the house since his release except to walk to the mailbox, which was where he had been abducted.
It was nearly midnight when the last few detectives took their seats in the room. After talking to the tenants in the building, all of the faces on the tapes had been identified. There appeared to have been no one in the building the month leading up to the abduction that did not have a valid reason to be there.
“No one stated seeing anyone strange in or around the building during the three days the cameras were out. We also interviewed the regulars at the bar the victim was at last night, and they all said there was nothing out of the ordinary,” Matthews said as he leaned back in his chair. With all of the information they had collected, they were still no closer to finding the perpetrator. Every face around the table showed the same look of frustration, except one. Frank Donovan, the youngest detective on the task force at twenty-three, had a look of confusion. “How did he get the victim out of the building with no struggle, and without being seen?”
Derek was indeed not a small man, standing at 6’4” and around 200 pounds. It would not have been easy getting his body out of the building quietly. “The killer may have cleaned up any sign of a struggle before leaving Hartley’s apartment. Then put his body in something, or on some kind of cart to get him out of the building unseen,” offered Oscar Ochoa who was sitting to his right.
“No,” Rilynne interjected, “sounds carry through the floors in the building, and I was still awake during the time the abduction must have taken place. I heard him open his door when he got home, but there was no sound of a struggle at all. Either he let the killer in willingly, or he could have already been in the apartment, and sedated him before Hartley even saw it coming.”
Everyone in the room was in quiet contemplation. Rilynne closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, running over everything she had learned about the victim. Then she concentrated on what she had seen that morning. He had been drugged, or at least he was when she had seen him. He had also been saying something. “Why are you doing this?”
She put all of the energy she had into her concentration. Think, think, think. It was never easy to see something when she was this tired. In fact, she saw the majority of her flashes shortly after waking up. She had all but given up hope she would see anything tonight when a scene lit up in front of her.
Derek was in the clothes he had worn that night, less his jacket. He was walking out of his apartment door towards the elevator. He was smiling and talking to someone. The clock on the wall above the elevator read two-thirty-three. He climbed into the elevator and hit the button for the lobby.
“There was no thud,” Rilynne suddenly said aloud, causing a couple of the detectives to jump in their seats. “If Hartley had been drugged or knocked out at the door of his apartment where his jacket had fallen, there would have been a thud from where his body hit the floor. Maybe the killer is luring his victims out rather than drugging them and risk being seen with the unconscious body. It would explain how there is never a sign of a struggle. It would be much easier to get a victim to your car and then drugging them, instead of having to drag a drugged victim without being seen.” She knew she was right, but there was no way to present it as more than just a theory.
“No one would willingly leave their apartment door open, though, or their car door,” Terry Rodriguez has suggested. He was right in that. But Hartley had closed his door. She had seen him close it on his way out towards the elevator. And there was no sign of the black note on the door. It was Wilcome who provided the answer, not Rilynne. “The perpetrator wants the abductions to be known, otherwise he would have tried to hide them. He gets the victim sedated and into his car, then returns to stage the scene so it will be reported. Opens the door to the victim’s apartment, and leaves the black note where it will be clearly visible. It would be far more risky leaving it open, then trying to get the victim out of the building. What if someone reported it right away? Response time was only two minutes from the time the call came in. This perpetrator is methodical; he would not have taken such a great chance.
“Furthermore, he would not have taken a chance being seen on the cameras. We need to have our tech go out and take a look at them. There is no way it was a coincidence the cameras were out during the abduction. Either the killer was informed they were out, and chose to act, or he tampered with them himself,” he paused. “It is getting late, I want everyone to get some sleep and meet back here at seven-thirty.”
Rilynne was the last one out of the office. She had stayed behind to take one last good look at all of the evidence. When the elevator doors opened, she nearly ran right into the stack of boxes that were being hauled out. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was still here,” she exclaimed while jumping out of the way.
“It’s okay, I was just dropping these off on my way out,” came a familiar voice from behind the top box. Ben was carrying three heavy looking boxes, stacked on top of each other. Grabbing the top one off the pile, Rilynne asked, “What are these? And what are you doing here so late?”
Ben carried the remaining two boxes to the conference room and sat them on the large table. He took the box from Rilynne and opened it, revealing a stack of binders.
“I made copies of all of the pictures and the results we found while investigating the scene, as well as the information off of the victim’s computer. Which sadly was not very much. But I made copies of what we had for everyone on the detectives unit.” He was talking very fast, and Rilynne couldn’t help but notice that his ears went a little pink.
“That’s incredible,” she stated as she began flipping through the binder, examining the photos from the scene. “I didn’t know your team did stuff like this.”
“We don’t,” he hesit
ated, ears now bright red. “I just wanted to make things a little easier to look through.”
Locking the door behind them, Rilynne and Ben walked back towards the elevator. “Did the detectives talk to you about last night?” Rilynne asked as she hit to down button. “Yeah, Detective Davidson found me earlier. I didn’t see anyone at all while I was leaving. I will admit, it was pretty startling to get a call to the building a few hours later.”
“Did you actually investigate the scene?” Rilynne was a little cautious about the way she asked, careful not to offend him.
“No, don’t worry. I called one of the other guys and asked him to take it for me. While I was feeling pretty good by the time I got the call, I still wasn’t going to risk it.” If he was insulted by her suggestion, he showed no sign of it.
They stepped out of the front doors and onto the street. “You aren’t walking are you?” Ben asked looking for her car.
“Of course I’m. It’s only three blocks.”
“You have got to be kidding. It’s not safe right now to be out alone, especially at night. You should know that better than anyone.”
Rilynne shot him an amused look. “I’m not really the killer’s type, you know… woman. Besides, he already has a victim. He won’t be out hunting for another one just yet.”
“Well, I’m not letting you walk alone.” Rilynne couldn’t help notice the determined tone in his voice.
“You don’t have to walk with me. I’m pretty scrappy. Besides, I’m armed.” She gently tapped her hip.
“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m not letting you walk by yourself,” he grabbed the bag she was carrying from her and took off walking in the direction of her apartment. “Are you coming?” He called over his shoulder to a stunned Rilynne, who had not moved.
She was not used to seeing Ben like this. He was confident and almost demanding. “Huh…” she muttered under her breath as she began to follow him.
“What?” he asked when he turned towards her to find an almost impressed look on her face.
“Nothing,” she smirked and redirected her gaze to the sky. There was not a cloud in the sky, and it was littered with more stars than Rilynne could count. It was hard to imagine that close to this time yesterday she was doing just this, walking back to her apartment under the stars with Ben by her side. It was astounding just how much can happen in one day.
“So, how long have you lived in Addison Valley?” Rilynne changed the subject.
“I’ve been here since I was twelve. After my parents died, I moved here to live with my older brother.”
“I lost my dad when I was two. He just disappeared one day, and we never found out what happened to him,” Rilynne stated. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did it happen?”
“They got caught in a tornado. I was at school when it hit, and they got us all into the basement in time, but my parents weren’t as lucky.”
“I’m so sorry. What a horrible thing to have to deal with.”
“Yeah, but I was lucky to have my brother. He was the only family I had left, and he gave up a lot to keep me out of the foster system.”
Although Ben seemed comfortable with the conversation they were having, Rilynne never knew the right thing to say. That always seemed funny to her, given her line of work. As if Ben could sense her growing uncomfortable, he quickly changed the subject. “Did you always want to be a cop?”
“Actually yeah, ever since I was a little girl I wanted to become a detective and solve murders.”
“Well, you are pretty good at it. You have a very impressive track record.” Although she had looked up at him, his eyes stayed fixed upon the road. Under the dim glow from the street lamp, however, she caught a glimpse of his ears turning pink.
“Thank you. It is what I love to do, and I push myself to be the best. Did you always want to investigate crime scenes?”
Ben’s jaw seemed to tighten slightly as he dragged his knuckles across his chin. “No, during my freshman year of college someone close to me was murdered, and the case was solved just off of the forensics. After that I knew I wanted to be able to help put the people behind bars who deserved it, so I changed my major.”
Although he spoke with a carefree tone, Rilynne knew she should not push the topic. It wasn’t until she spoke again that his jaw relaxed and his hand fell back by his side. “What was your original major?”
“I wanted to be a surgeon.”
Chapter Six
Ben insisted on walking Rilynne all the way to her apartment door again. It was nearly one thirty before she crawled into her bed. Having been up for close to forty-eight hours, it took her no time at all to drift off.
Though Rilynne wanted a peaceful, relaxing night sleep, it was not what she got. From the moment her eyes drifted closed, blood spattered scenes inundated her dreams.
She had been running around the lake when she saw a bright red door in the middle of a tree trunk that had to have been twenty feet around. Wondering why a tree needed a door, she opened it and entered to find herself in the station house. Although it seemed to be the middle of the day, there was not a soul to be found. What she found instead was a pile of men’s legs that had been cut a few inches above the knee. She could see something on the leg at the top of the pile that looked like a handprint in blood. All she could think was there was finally a good piece of evidence. She ran up the stairs to the forensics lab to see if anyone there could help. Like the other floors, it was completely deserted. All of the forensic supplies seemed to have been put up, also. The only thing that was lying out was the bag of yellow, heavy-duty kitchen gloves sitting in the middle of the evidence table. She would have to process the leg herself.
She searched around the room for everything she would need before sprinting back downstairs. She was just rounding the corner leading to the pile, when she heard something behind her. She dropped the items in her arms and reached for her gun. She saw a dark shadow dart past her out of the corner of her eye. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. All she wanted to do was run, but she knew this was her chance to find out who the killer was and running was not an option. She saw the figure tear past her again, but this time she fired.
It was like a scene from a cartoon. The figure was thrown back nearly twenty feet down the hall, leaving a trail of blood. With her gun still directed at the crumpled body on the ground, she slowly made her way down the hall. “Why are you doing this?” he was repeating it as she approached. With her foot, she rolled him over onto his back. The moment her eyes settled on his face, she dropped to her knees. Her gun had vanished from her hands as they reached out and covered the gaping chest wound. “Why did you do this to me, Rye?”
“I didn’t know it was you. I swear I didn’t know it was you. I’m so sorry, Christopher, I’m so sorry.”
Rilynne sprang awake with tears rolling down her face. She sat on her bed shaking fiercely for several minutes before she could will herself to lie back down. It was another several minutes before she had the courage to close her eyes again.
* * *
Rilynne took her copy of the binder and a large cup of coffee and sat down at her kitchen table. She was impressed with the work Ben had put into them. Not only did it have detailed photos from the scene and the forensic reports, it also had the details they had learned about the victim’s life, a map showing the victim’s route from the bar to his girlfriend’s apartment, then to his own, and a digital copy of the interview with his girlfriend.
She had just started flipping through the photos of his apartment when there was a knock at her door. “It’s open,” she called without looking up. Her mom always got onto her for leaving her door unlocked, and even more for just calling for people to come in without checking to see who was there. Though she knew the kind of people who were in the world, and the horrible things they could do, she never seemed to worry about something happening to her. It helped that she carried a gun.
“Hey, thanks for getting me home t
he other night,” Nicole said walking in and heading straight for the kitchen. She grabbed a mug off of the hook and poured herself a cup of coffee, then took the seat next to Rilynne. “What do you have there?”
“It’s a binder Ben put together for the team. It’s pretty cool actually. He seemed to put a lot of work into it.”
“Really?” she said looking over at it. “Huh, I’ve never seen him do anything like this before. He must be really trying to impress someone.”
“Well, it will probably work. He definitely went out of his way.” Rilynne left the binder on the table and got up to refill her coffee. “Do you want anything while I’m up?”
“Do you still have any chocolate left?” Nicole asked hopefully.
Rilynne chortled, “Is a freezer complete without a bag of chocolate?”
Rilynne shifted the pizzas and frozen dinners around and grabbed the bag of mini-chocolate bars, and tossed them across the kitchen to Nicole.
“Chocolate really is the perfect breakfast,” Nicole said as she bit into a dark chocolate bar. She was flipping through the pictures when Rilynne returned to her seat. “It’s scary that this happened just upstairs. The perpetrator must be very fearless to take someone from the same building as one of the detectives on the unit. He must be making a statement.”
Rilynne had been thinking the same thing. Anyone who had been watching the building would have known she was living there. The fact that it was the apartment directly above hers, which was the one apartment Rilynne was sure to hear any kind of struggle, meant it was not just a coincidence; it was a challenge. The only question was, who was the challenge for? The perpetrator was either challenging himself, proving he was good enough to get away with the abduction right under the police departments nose, or it was a direct challenge for the detectives.
“I think it was a challenge for me,” Rilynne found herself saying aloud. She had been thinking it since she discovered the address of the scene. After giving it quite a bit of thought, it was the only scenario that made any sense.
