“So Mike Strong was part of the senator’s campaign team,” she said. “He was one of the few suspects in the death of Renee and now the little girls. How convenient of him to commit suicide and confess to all of the murders.”
“I didn’t commit suicide,” the ghost screamed, materializing between them at the kitchen table.
Mary jumped back. Bradley looked at her. “What happened?” he asked.
“The ghost is back,” she said, taking a deep breath. “And he reappeared somewhat unexpectedly.”
He scooted his chair closer and took hold of her hand. “Okay, I see him now.”
Mary turned her attention to the ghost. “I didn’t think you committed suicide,” Mary explained, after she caught her breath. “I just said that you might have been set up.”
“Who would set me up?” he asked.
“Someone who doesn’t want to be convicted of murder,” she said. “Did you meet with someone last night?”
Mike shook his head. “No. I mean yes. But he wouldn’t have done this,” he said. “Besides, I was supposed to meet him at his office. I never made it there. It wasn’t him.”
“Why don’t you tell us his name so we can be sure he didn’t do this to you?” Bradley suggested.
“Because he is my friend and it was confidential,” Mike said firmly. “He promised that he wouldn’t spill my secret. If I tell you, he’ll tell everyone.”
”Does it matter?” Mary asked. “If you’re dead, does it really matter?”
Mike nodded and started to fade away. “It’s my legacy,” he said. “It’s all I have left.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Mary pulled up the drive at the Ryerson’s house while the sun was just rising. She had called them on her way from Freeport to be sure they were both home and waiting. She grabbed the file and jogged up the stairs to the front door.
The door opened before she had a chance to knock. Joseph stood in the doorway. “Mary, you got here in record time,” he said. “How can we help you?”
He directed her to the sitting room where Susan was waiting. Mary sat down across from Susan and pulled the photos of the little girls out and laid them on the table.
Joseph sat next to Susan and they both studied the photos. “I don’t understand,” Susan said. “How are these little girls related to our case?”
Mary turned to Joseph. “Do any of these girls look familiar to you, Senator?”
Joseph studied them and shook his head. “No, they don’t. Should they?”
Mary allowed the photos to remain on the coffee table, staring up at the couple. “Each of these little girls was reported missing about twenty-four years ago, during the time of your campaign, senator,” she said. “The girls lived in towns less than twenty miles from where you had made campaign stops. They each disappeared on the day you spoke at a town near them.”
Susan gasped. “Surely, you don’t think that Joseph…”
Mary pulled Jessica’s photo out of the file and laid it next to the other ones. “Does this child look familiar?” she interrupted Susan.
Joseph nodded. “Yes, that’s the little girl who was reported missing the same day Renee died,” he said. “She was from Elizabeth.”
Mary nodded. “I have reason to believe that whoever kidnapped the first four girls also took Jessica,” she said.
Susan picked up the photos and examined each one. “They all look very much alike,” she said, “except for Jessica.”
Mary nodded. “Yes, they could have been sisters.”
Susan put the photos down and looked across at Mary. “You know that Joseph couldn’t have done this, don’t you?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, he was at the house waiting for election returns,” she said. “The media was probably parked right outside your house all day. It would have been impossible for him to have driven to Elizabeth without being noticed.”
Joseph moved the photos around on the table. “But there is too much correlation between the snatchings and my campaign to make this all a coincidence,” he said. “Someone in my campaign is responsible.”
Mary nodded. “That’s what it looks like. I need you to help me decide who it could be.”
Mary pulled out her legal pad and pen. “What can you tell me about Jerry Wiley?”
Susan laughed. “No, not Jerry,” she said. “First, he was never on the campaign trail with us because we never knew what he was going to say or…”
She stopped, bit her lip and glanced at her husband. He nodded at her.
“We didn’t know what condition he would be in,” she finished.
“You mean you didn’t know if he would be stoned or not?” Mary asked.
They both looked surprised. “Jerry told me about that habit when I interviewed him earlier,” she said.
“How about Mike Strong?” she asked.
Susan shook her head. “Well, Mike wouldn’t be interested in little girls,” she blurted out, then stopped.
Joseph turned to her, confused. “Why not?”
Susan hesitated. “Because he wasn’t interested in girls,” she said pointedly.
“What?” Joseph asked. “I don’t understand.”
Susan sighed. “Mike Strong is gay,” she said.
“What? Are you sure?” Joseph exclaimed. “He’s married.”
“So?” Susan responded. “Gay men who don’t want people to know about their preferences often marry. Besides being who he was, he had a lot of expectations to live up to. His parents would have disowned him if they found out.”
“But, but how did you know?” he asked.
She shrugged. “We spent a lot of time together, talked about a lot of things. We became friends and late one night after quite a few beers, he told me. He swore me to secrecy, but I think under the circumstances, he’d be okay with my telling his secret.”
Mary thought about the poor tortured ghost in her basement and finally understood his reluctance to talk, even in death.
Mary nodded. “I promise you that his secret will remain confidential,” she said.
“But that doesn’t rule him out, does it?” Joseph said. “Being gay doesn’t necessarily mean he couldn’t be a serial killer.”
“You’re right,” Mary said, “I’m not ruling out any possibilities.”
“So, that leaves Hank Montague,” Joseph said, leaning back against the couch. “I think you are batting three strikes here. Hank is well-respected and well-known. I think if he were a serial killer we would have figured it out long before now.”
“I don’t think I would consider him well-liked,” Susan said, and then she added, “Not that I think he’s a murderer, he’s just a pig.”
Joseph was surprised. “What? I never knew you felt that way about him,” he said.
“Well, you were busy campaigning, so I had to deal with some of the little details,” she said. “His condescending manner to women had me putting out little fires all over the area. I think he believed he was more important than the candidate. Even on the night of the election party, he did it again.”
Mary was immediately intrigued. “Susan, what do you mean?”
“On the night of the party, Joe was going crazy because everyone was late,” she said. “I was running interference, trying to entertain the media and get ready for the guests, and I was not pleased with the campaign staff.
“Finally, Renee and Mike arrived and I put them to work,” she continued. “When I asked about Hank, Renee mentioned she had seen Hank on the side of the road near Tapley Woods, but he waved her on, so she didn’t think he had car issues.”
“He was parked near Tapley Woods?” Mary asked. “Do you remember the time?”
Susan shrugged. “The polls closed at seven p.m., but we were getting results in before that and it was looking good for Joe. I guess Renee and Mike got here at about six o’clock. But Hank didn’t get here until six-thirty. I was really angry with him.”
“Where was Jerry?” Mary asked.
“Oh, he got here early in the
afternoon,” Susan said, “but he had excused himself too many times to be of much help by the time the party started.”
Mary nodded. So Jerry wasn’t as discreet with his habit as he had thought. “When Hank finally arrived…” she prompted.
“He came walking in, really agitated,” Susan said, remembering. “His clothes were a little messy; it almost looked like he had just thrown something on, not taken care with his appearance.
“I was going to comment about that when I happened to look down and saw that he tracked mud into the main hallway, just before all of the guests were supposed to arrive.”
Mary thought back to day she followed Jessica. It had been sunny and dry.
“But it wasn’t rainy the day of the election, was it,” Mary said.
Susan nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “It was a beautiful Indian Summer day. He would have had to have been traipsing around the woods to get that muddy. Once again, he showed a complete lack of consideration for everyone else.”
“What did he say when you questioned him?” Mary asked.
Susan shrugged. “He was so late, I decided to let it go until after the party, then I was going to give him a piece of my mind,” she said. “But I guess it totally slipped my mind. I mean, a little mud seemed so unimportant compared to Renee’s death. I guess we were all in shock for a while.”
Mary nodded. “Yeah, that’s understandable,” she said. “Was there anyone else that could have been present at all of the campaign stops?”
Joseph thought about it for a moment. “Well, you know, anyone from the local media who covered politics would have been there,” he said. “I also had several groupies who were fairly devoted supporters and they came to just about every event.”
“Do you still have their names?” Mary asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure I do,” he said, “but it will take some digging.”
“If you could e-mail them to me, I’d really appreciate it,” she said.
Mary stood up and thanked them for their help. They walked her to the door. Mary opened the door, paused and turned back to them.
“I think I’m getting closer to finding the suspect,” she said, “and whoever it is might be getting nervous and might act irrationally. So exercise extra precautions for the next little while. Be suspicious of everyone.”
Joseph and Susan both nodded.
“Are you going to bring in the police?” Susan asked.
Mary nodded. “As soon as I have all the information I need, I’ll bring law enforcement into the case,” she said, “but I promise to be very discreet.”
Susan reached out and took Mary’s hand. “Thank you for all you’ve done. Be careful.”
Mary smiled. “I will.”
THIRTY-SIX
It took Mary about fifteen minutes to drive from the Ryerson’s home to Tapley Woods. She parked her car and walked to the edge of one of the trails. The air was cool and crisp and the sun was shining, a perfect fall day. The paths were still muddy from the rainstorms a few nights before and there were a couple small patches of ice where the sun didn’t reach.
She took a deep breath and then exhaled, trying to clear her mind and focus on the case. She thought about Jessica and Renee. She pictured Renee driving to the Ryerson’s, eager and excited about the party.
The angle of the sun changed and the day grew warmer. Mary turned when she heard the car horn. Renee Peterson, happy and excited, slowed down and pulled over to the road. “Do you need some help?” she called, then shrugged and pulled back onto the road and sped away.
Mary turned in the direction that Renee had been looking. She watched and waited for several moments. Then Jessica appeared before her. She was laying on her back, suspended in mid-air, her arms and legs hanging motionless toward the ground. She floated toward her. Mary watched, transfixed, as Jessica came closer. Then the ghost moved through her and continued down the path.
Mary looked down and saw footprints appear in the path before her, just underneath Jessica’s floating body. The vegetation was brushed to either side to make way for the unseen person who was carrying the little girl.
Mary kept her eyes on Jessica and noticed a slight movement of her head. She was still alive! Suddenly the abductor’s pace increased. He knew it, he knew she was alive.
They traveled uphill on the trail for fifteen minutes and then he turned sharply to the left, off the trail and through heavy brush. Mary followed, beating back the branches and leaves that skimmed against her face.
The trees and bushes cleared to reveal a limestone ridge high above the surrounding countryside. Aware that the geology might have altered in twenty plus years, Mary kept a safe distance away from the ledge, but she could see from where she stood that the drop-off was more than forty feet. Mary turned back to Jessica’s still body. He had brought her to the edge and held her there. He seemed to be waiting for something.
Jessica moved again. Her head lifted and her eyes fluttered open. She stared up at the face that only she could see.
“I want my mommy!” she cried.
But before she could say another word, Jessica’s body was tossed off the cliff down to the woods below. Mary eyes filled with tears as she listened to the terrified scream. Then she heard the sound of Jessica’s little body hitting the ground and the scream abruptly stopped. Mary dropped to her knees, wrapped her arms around herself and cried.
The air was growing cold and the sun was shining directly in her face when Mary stopped crying a few minutes later. She wiped the tears from her eyes, stood up and looked around. This was Jessica’s final resting place. The area hadn’t changed too much in twenty-four years.
She pulled out her cell phone. She needed to talk to Bradley and let him know what she’d discovered. Actually, she admitted to herself, she really just needed to hear a human voice. She dialed the number but nothing happened. She glanced at the bars, no service. Well, really, that was understandable.
“How did you find me?”
Mary jumped and spun around. Mike Strong’s ghost stood a few feet away from her. However, when she looked through his translucent body, she could see the human remains of Mike Strong hanging only a few yards away, swinging from a tall oak tree at the edge of the ridge.
“I didn’t know you were here,” she said.
But it made perfect sense.
“Are you going to help me down?” he asked.
Mary looked at the stiffened and discolored body; it had already started to decompose. At that moment she was glad she was no longer a police officer. “I can’t, Mike,” she said. “I can’t disturb the scene of the crime. But I will report it, so you can have a proper funeral.”
“I didn’t do it,” he insisted. “I didn’t commit suicide.”
“I know that, Mike,” she said. “I know that you were set up.”
“I didn’t kill that little girl,” he said, crying. “I could never kill little girls. I have a little girl of my own.”
“I know, Mike,” she said. “You didn’t do this, but we will find the person who did.”
She could see that his emotional state was unstable and she hesitated to interview anyone in this condition, but if he could just tell her who he spoke to that night, she might be able to put all of the pieces together.
“Mike,” she said softly. “I just came from seeing the Ryersons. You remember the Ryersons, don’t you?”
Mike sniffled. “Yes, I do,” he said. “Susan is one of the loveliest people I have ever met.”
“Yes, she is,” Mary agreed. “And she really cares about you. Mike, I want you to know that she told me about your secret, so you don’t have to be…”
“What! She told you! How could she?” he screamed. “I trusted her! I trusted her! Oh, God. My family! My parents!”
He ran around the area, his hands on his head.
“No, no, no, no!” he screamed and then disappeared.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Hank Montague entered Bradley’s office without
knocking. Bradley looked up from his computer, surprised. “What can I…?”
“I just got a call from Mike Strong’s wife, Wendy,” he said. “Something’s wrong. We need to get to their house immediately.”
Bradley’s initial reaction was relief. He had been trying to figure out how to work on a murder with no body and he was getting nowhere. “Did she mention what was wrong?” he asked, trying to act normal.
“No, but she sounded upset,” Hank said, “We’ll take my truck so we don’t draw any undue attention to the situation. Mike wouldn’t have wanted that.”
Bradley grabbed his phone, his revolver, his handcuffs and his jacket and followed the mayor out of his office. “Dorothy, the mayor and I have a meeting,” he said. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be gone. You can reach me by phone.”
Dorothy nodded and resumed her typing.
They used the back door of City Hall and climbed into Hank’s pick-up. Bradley was a little surprised when Hank exited on to the highway rather than driving through town. “Where does Mike live?” he asked.
“Well, Wendy asked us to meet her out of town,” Hank replied smoothly. “More privacy.”
Bradley felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. There was something wrong with this situation. “How long have you known Mike?” Bradley asked, conversationally.
Hank shrugged and accelerated past a dairy truck. “For about thirty years now,” he said. “We worked together several years ago.”
“On Ryerson’s campaign, right?”
Hank turned his head and a smile slowly crept over his face. “You are a bright young man, aren’t you?” he said. “Yes, Mike and I worked together.”
“When was the last time you saw Mike?” Bradley asked.
“Oh, I believe it was the other night,” he said, stroking his fingers thoughtfully across his chin. “Yes, I believe it was Sunday night. Mike was supposed to meet me later in the evening. But he never showed up. I wonder what delayed him?”
“Did you call to find out?” Bradley asked.
Hank shook his head. “No, it was a favor I needed,” he said, “and I really didn’t want to push him.”
Crimes of Passion Page 101
