“You think he wants to get caught?” Wilson said.
“It’s possible,” Conrad said. “But I really think he wants to almost get caught. It’s like a rush for him.”
Dunham picked up the pad again. “Frank says; But what about the Mullins family. He reverted back to his first mode in that murder.”
“I don’t think killing the Mullins family was really murder for him.”
“Then what the fuck was it?” Snyder asked.
“Bentley has never started on a family and then moved to another one. We don’t have enough murders to say this with certainty, but I don’t think that’s his style. George Braddock was killed before the Mullins were, that means that, in Bentley’s mind, he was already working on the Braddocks. He simply needed a way to stalk Katie Braddock, so he needed to kill a family with a child and take that identity. It was a murder in order to accomplish his real goal.”
“How do we know that he isn’t just going somewhere else to find another family,” Wilson said.
“He needs to kill the other two,” Conrad replied. “In Bentley’s mind he can’t go on until he kills the other two. He finished the first two families. Not only does he need to kill them, but he wants us to try and stop him. It’s a game for him. That’s why he sent the letter.”
Dunham snorted laughter. He looked at the others. “No it’s just ironic or whatever,” he said. He was holding up another piece of paper. Frank had more to say.
“The letter is something else that bothers me,” Dunham read. “He only sent one and it was after the very first murder. It’s clear from the letter that he was gloating, he wanted recognition. Why wouldn’t he send letters after the other murder, or this one?”
“It’s possible that he felt the letter was a mistake,” Conrad said, though he didn’t seem as confident as he had addressing Frank’s other questions.
Frank tapped his paper. Dunham glanced. “He wants me to read the letter.”
Dunham picked up the note and read:
Dear Pigs,
Thank you for letting me escape. I saw a police crewzer drive by the house while I was killing the gurl. She has a window that looks out into the street. That little piggy went rolling on bye. Then I slashed the gurl’s throat. I liked kill her. It was wesome. We had a good time me and her.
Maybe I’ll kill a hole school next. I think that would be a blast. Just go in a class room and mowem down. With the way you little piggys protect the citysens I’ll get away easy.
Piggys, you cant and wont stop me. I’ll kill agen and then Ill kill some more. Ill do whatever The Master wants. Hes in charge and he says that you little basterds and bitches wont get me.
I kill good now cause of The Master. He showed me how. I love The Master. He says oner is the best part of valer.
Time to go now. Watch the papers there’s more to cum.
Bentley Grimes
Dunham set the letter back down on the table. Frank waved another piece of paper in front of him. “I love ya buddy, but am I going to be narrating your life from here on out?” Still, he took the paper and read.
“He’s baiting us, or really them, it’s clear he wants credit. Also the letter is filled with typos and misspellings. I know that some of the most prolific serial killers, people that had extremely high Iqs, still couldn’t spell that well, but this is very bad. Also, he signed his real name. Not a nickname he wanted to go by, but his real name. This seems very amateur to me.”
“That could be what he wants us to think,” Conrad said. “Bentley grew up in an orphanage. While he was there, he killed one of his friends. When he was questioned about it, he ran away after killing the cop. The name Bentley Grimes means nothing; it might as well be a pseudonym. He has no real family, no ties, no address, nothing. He lives on the street now. His name doesn’t give us anything.”
“Unless we catch him,” Dunham said. “Then we can pin those two murders to him as well.”
“Sure,” Conrad said. “But that doesn’t matter to him. He wants credit for his kills.”
”Then I agree with Frank,” Dunham said. “Why no more letters?”
“Too much of a risk,” Conrad said.
Dunham laughed. “He told you his fucking name. What does risk matter to him? Did
you learn anything from that letter other than his name?”
“Well…no.”
“So why not send more?”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to,” Snyder said. “Maybe that one was enough for him. Agent Conrad said that we’re dealing with the evolution of a killer. Maybe he tried it out and decided that he didn’t like it. Hell, maybe he thought people would make fun of his spelling errors.”
Conrad pointed in Snyder’s direction. “That’s very interesting. It very well could be that.”
“Look,” Wilson said. “This is all bullshit anyway. We know it’s the same guy, unless there are two bald kid killers running around. So what does it matter how he decides to pass the time?”
“We’re trying to figure out his mind,” Dunham said. “We want to know what he’ll do.”
“We know what he’ll do,” Conrad said. “He’ll come for those two women and when he does, we’d better be ready.”
105.
Katie snapped awake. She was sitting up in bed. Her dream, some nightmare, already had faded from her memory. Part of her wanted to grab onto it, to hold it and examine it, but most of her was just glad to let it go.
There was a knock on the door. Katie looked over; the television was still on, only now it showed the blue screen with the list of movies on it. Some blonde haired guy stood in the black box in the corner and discussed the movies that were available.
Sheila was asleep and snoring. Katie thought about shaking her awake, but then the knock came again. It was really more of a pound now, it demanded to be answered, so Katie stood up and looked out the peep hole.
A youngish looking man with blonde hair and police uniform bubbled out through the hole. Katie unlatched the door and pulled the chain.
“Yes?”
“Check up time,” the man said. “Is everything okay in here?”
“We’re fine,” Katie said. “Just trying to sleep.”
“Okay,” the officer said. He nodded and walked away. Katie closed the door and looked at the dark room. The glow of the television called to her and she grabbed the remote control.
There wasn’t much on, infomercials mostly, but she did find a stand-up comedy special on Comedy Central. Katie watched while some fat man talked about drugs and not much else.
Sheila’s snoring had quieted a bit, but there was still a rough quality to her respiration. Katie looked over at her and then glanced towards the bathroom. She looked back to Sheila, she was still sleeping. Katie rocked the bed, nothing. Sheila didn’t even stir. Katie stood up and walked to the bathroom.
The alcohol was in the bathtub. Her mom must have put it there after she was drunk, not thinking what Katie would think if she found it. It was all whiskey. Sometimes, Dad had enjoyed a drink after he got back from work, more often in the last few months of his life when his marriage hung in the balance, and that drink had invariably been a small tumbler of whiskey. Katie’s mother had adopted the same taste, only in much higher quantities.
Katie knew that her mom could have only purchased the alcohol at the connivance store they stopped at before coming here. She hadn’t had time to pilfer Dad’s stash. Besides, Dad never had so large a collection. Five bottles sat in the bathtub. One of them had barely a swallow left in it. Katie wondered where her mother had kept them all. Then she saw the duffel bag with San Ignace police written on it.
The police had promised that tomorrow they would be able to go shopping, buy some clothes and a toothbrush. Sheila had insisted on a duffel bag and Detective Wilson had produced one for her.
Katie bent down and picked up the opened bottle. It had a substance to it that her plastic bottles of pop didn’t. It had a weight, even nearly empty. Katie had an idea
that the liquid inside didn’t add much heft to it anyway.
“I’m sorry Brenda,” Katie said. “I’m sorry Karen. I’m sorry Dad.”
Tears poured from her face as she spoke, then she tipped the bottle up and let the liquid slip down. The burn was immediate and caustic. Katie began to cough. She nearly dropped the bottle, caught it, then set it on the sink.
Katie ran the faucet and slurped up as much water as she could. There was a fire in her throat; it felt as if she’d swallowed a torch. After a minute or so, Katie looked at her face in the mirror. What she saw shocked her. She looked old, as old as her mother. Her eyes were bloodshot; there were the beginnings of dark rings under her eyes. Her face had a flushed, used look.
“How can you do this?” Katie asked.
She walked back to the bed and lay down. The fat man had given way to a young skinny guy with dark glasses and long hair. He was talking about a hippopotamus just being a really cool opotamus.
Katie didn’t think it was funny. She didn’t feel like laughing. What she felt like doing was running away. Getting out of this hotel room, getting away from her mother and going…where? It didn’t matter as long as it was away from here. Far away from here.
106.
“There’s only one thing we can do,” Conrad said. He shifted in his chair and cast a glance at the ceiling. “We need to let the girls go back to their house tomorrow.”
“What?” Dunham blurted. “Are you nuts?”
Conrad looked back down towards the officers. “What would be nuts is letting them stay on the run forever.”
“We need to keep these girls safe,” Wilson said. “If we let them go back to their house, Bentley will come to get them.”
“That’s exactly what we want,” Conrad said. “If we keep them in a hotel, or set them up in a new house, maybe in another state, then what?”
“Then we continue to do our job and look for this asshole,” Dunham said.
“Based on what? All the evidence that we have?”
Conrad’s eyes bore into Dunham, the latter glanced away.
“If we move them, he’ll find them. He’ll follow them. Eventually, we’ll make a mistake. When we do, he’ll kill them.”
There was also the time factor, though Conrad didn’t mention it. He could stay two days, maybe three at the most. After that, his absence would be noticed and questioned. If they found out what he was doing and he had no criminal to show for it, his job would be in jeopardy. However, if he could prove to them that he belonged in the Behavioral Unit, they might not promote him right away, but his name would go on a short list. If, they could catch Bentley, and It had to be soon.
“We don’t even know that he’ll go after them,” Snyder said. “You say that he will, but he might just pick a new family.”
“I’ve spent a long time putting a profile of this killer together,” Conrad said. “Picking a new family before the first one is dead, is not how he works.”
“You told us that he’s evolving,” Dunham said. “If that’s the case, he could do anything. He could break your profile at any time.”
“So what if he does?” Conrad asked. “What if we protect these two and he goes after another family, probably in another state.”
“Then Sheila and Katie are alive.”
“And another family is dead and we don’t have anything to go on. You all won’t even be part of the investigation. We have an opportunity here. Bentley isn’t going to just go away. He’s going to come after these women. We have the chance to set him up. To stop him.”
“You’re talking about using them as bait,” Snyder said.
“We’ll be there. We’ll be watching. We can get him before he has a chance to get to them. Don’t you get that?”
“Perhaps Agent Conrad is correct,” Wilson said.
The others turned to look at him. Only Frank kept his head down, he was writing again.
“Bentley has taken half of their family,” Wilson continued. “If we let the FBI take them into protective custody then he’ll take away their lives as well. They will never again be allowed to be the Braddocks. Think about that.”
Frank held up a paper. Dunham grabbed it and read.
“A better idea would be to let one of them stay at the hotel and one of them go back home for the night. Sheila expressed an interest in going back, so I say we let her but keep Katie in the hotel room. It will be impossible for Bentley to strike both of them that way.”
“But we’ll have to have more manpower,” Wilson said.
“We have the combined efforts of three cities,” Dunham said. “Frank’s plan makes sense, and I’ll get on board with that.”
“Good,” Conrad said. “I like it too.” He turned to look at Wilson.
“Okay, fine, for one night. I’m going to have to convince the Chief to give me most of our cops for this and I won’t be able to spare them for long.”
“I’ll agree as well,” Snyder said. “We’ll get who we can.”
“It’ll only take one night,” Conrad said. “Bentley will strike as soon as he can.”
“Good,” Wilson said. “I think we should all get back to our lives for a little while.”
“That’s fine,” Conrad said. “We can meet back here at ten a.m. to work out the logistics of this operation.”
107.
There was another knock on the door. Katie sat up in bed. Light poured around the drawn curtains. She looked out the peep hole. It was another cop, not the same one from last night.
Katie opened the door. “Detective Wilson would like to see you and your mother,” the man said. He glanced over at the bed and saw Sheila sprawled out. He glanced back to Katie. “As soon as possible.”
“I’ll get her up,” Katie said and closed the door. She walked over to the bed and began shaking her mother.
“Whaa,” Sheila yawned out. She stretched her arms out above her head. “Oh,” her hand held her forehead. A look of pain crossed her face. “Honey, can you get me some water?”
Katie filled a glass and handed it to Sheila.
After finishing the whole glass, Sheila sat up and looked at her daughter. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know, I just woke up too, but there’s a cop outside and he wants us to come down and see that Wilson guy.”
Sheila ran a hand down her face. “Okay, give me a few minutes.” She got up and walked into the bathroom.
Katie sat on the bed. There was no reason to get dressed, they had both slept in their clothes and there was nothing fresh to change into anyway.
Sheila emerged from the bathroom, looking a little better, but still rough. They hadn’t brought any makeup either and every line and blemish stood out for the world to see.
When they got outside the cop was waiting for them.
“Okay,” he said. He looked at both women, but his gaze was particularly long on Sheila’s face. “Are you ready?”
“Don’t judge young man,” Sheila said. “You’ll be old one day too.”
108.
Bentley watched the car pull up to the police station. The black wig was on his head. Even so, he still stood across the street. It wasn’t a busy street, but it was steady. The flow of traffic stopped and went with the traffic light and there was enough of it that when the lights went green, enough cars had built that it obscured his view of the station.
He sat on a green bench with a paperback in his hand. His head was angled down so as to appear that he was reading, but he was really watching the place. The Braddocks weren’t at home and that only meant one thing, the police had put them up somewhere. In some hotel probably, and the only way to find the information he needed was to come to the source.
Still, he did not expect to get the gift that they presented him with. The police car pulled up and they walked out. It was them, both of them. Part of him wanted to run across the street, pull out the detective’s gun and kill them all. It would be possible to get away, but that’s not how it was supposed to go and
he knew it.
There were obligations to keep, no matter how stupid. Bentley’s eyes focused on Katie, his girl. His Prize. They followed the officer into the building. Neither of the girls looked overly sad. They weren’t bawling their eyes out. They had put on their public faces. Bentley wondered what they were feeling inside. They were probably sad, but to what level?
Questions burned in his brain. There were things he needed to know, things he needed to ask, but all of that would have to wait.
Bentley looked down at his book and read. It would all come in time; all of it, and when it did nothing would stop him. Things would go on just as it always did, and perhaps, Bentley would understand things a little better.
109.
Wilson was there to greet them. He wore his big, fake smile. Three other men stood by him. Sheila recognized two of them, Detective Miles and Chief Dunham; the third was a stranger to her.
“It was nice of you to come,” Wilson said. “We have some things to discuss. If you’d follow me.”
Wilson led them back to the interrogation room where another man that Sheila didn’t know sat.
The man they were walking with, the man that Sheila didn’t know, held out his hand when they entered the room.
“Mrs. Braddock, my name is Special Agent Conrad. I’m from the FBI.”
“The FBI?”
“Yes, I’ve been called in to assist on this case. This man is Detective Snyder from San Stephan.”
Snyder nodded his head.
“We called you here today because we have an idea as to how we can catch Bentley.”
Beneath the Mask of Sanity Page 21
