by Heather Mace
The two homicide detectives had an interest in both.
Detective Jones worked his way to the back of the room and shook their hands. “Thanks for coming. We’ll take all the help we can get. I’d especially like your take on Golden since you were called in the last time she went missing.”
“We took a walk through her apartment earlier,” Glade told him. “It was different than last time. By all accounts, last time she got spooked and took off- went into hiding because she feared for her life.”
“And this time,” Jones said, “there was nothing out of place.”
“Exactly.” Glade rubbed his chin. “The place almost seemed tidied up. The glass in the sink had been washed…”
“But then it was left in the sink next to a pitcher that also appeared to have been washed,” Sherman added. “Who goes to the trouble of washing something and then leaving it in the sink?”
“Right,” Jones said, “it seemed odd to me, too.” He cocked his head as an idea occurred to him, “…unless she got spooked in the middle of doing the dishes. At any rate, both items are being tested for any trace of…well, anything out of the ordinary.”
“So,” Glade said, “do you think she took off on her own this time?”
“I don’t know,” Jones said. “But I can’t leave anything to chance. Meanwhile I’ve got this other girl…”
“I think Cole took Jennifer,” Sherman said. He stopped talking when he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket.
Glade picked up where Sherman had left off. “Listen,” he said to Jones, “even though Cole’s MO with Jennifer is similar to our homicide victim, I don’t think he did both. I don’t think he has your currently missing college girl either. Right now he is focused completely on his ex. I think in spite of all of his lies and denials, he knows he’s going down for what he did to her.”
“And he wants to finish what he started before he goes to prison,” Jones interjected. “Alright, so, we’ve got two girls missing, and possibly two separate perps. Lucky us.”
***
There was a persistent noise playing at the edge of Jennifer’s consciousness. It was not entirely rhythmic, so it refused to work itself into her dream. She tried to adjust, to get more comfortable, and felt a pull at her shoulder. Her eyes opened as the fear came flooding back to her. She was lying on a wooden floor, her arms were stretched behind her back and bound at the wrists. She was wearing one of Mac’s T-shirts. It was the only thing she had on, and it was damp with perspiration.
Drip… drip, drip, the sound that had roused her.
Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton, as did her brain. She turned her head upward to find Malcolm sitting in a torn up, old recliner, calmly eating a sandwich, and watching her.
“Mac,” she croaked out.
He kept chewing, staring at her with no emotion, as if he were looking right through her.
She felt like she was going to choke on the dryness in her throat. “Water,” she pleaded. The stifling heat wasn’t making it any easier to breathe.
He didn’t move, didn’t react at all to her plea.
She looked around the small room. It was completely unfamiliar to her. It appeared to be an, old, small, dilapidated, one-room house. Along the far wall, there was an ancient refrigerator next to a sagging counter top. Inset in the counter was a sink with water dripping from the faucet. The sound that had awakened her was now taunting her. She wanted to get to that water. She was so thirsty she would willingly drink it out of whatever filthy container it was dripping into. Her whole body ached. It wasn’t just the position she had been lying in for who knew how long, she felt like she’d been beaten. She turned her head sharply and looked back at Mac. She suddenly found herself wondering how long she had been here and what he had done to her while she was unconscious.
At the look of fear on her face, he smiled maliciously, and put his sandwich down on a wooden stool that was serving as an end table. She instinctively tried to push herself away from him as he rose from the creaky chair. He reached down and grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her almost to her feet. She kicked and struggled with what little strength she had, but he simply shoved her backward onto a dirty mattress.
He unsheathed a knife that he had clipped to his waist and leaned down toward her. She shook her head violently, and tried to protest verbally. But no sound came from her dry throat. He rolled her over and sliced through the zip ties binding her wrists together.
It was such a relief to have her arms free that she didn’t want to fight him for fear of being bound again. He stood over her and looked back and forth between the knife and her face. She wanted to cry but she doubted she could produce any tears. “Water, please,” she whispered.
He snapped out of his trance and re-sheathed the blade. “If only you’d had such nice manners when we were together.”
She didn’t take the bait. While he went to the sink she propped herself up on the small daybed and took in more of her surroundings. She had no idea where they were. The place obviously had running water, but judging from the handful of battery operated lanterns in the room, there wasn’t any electricity. That also explained the stifling heat. It wasn’t officially summer yet, but in South Texas that didn’t make a difference.
Malcolm returned with water in an old, tin measuring cup.
She drank it all in one gulp and considered asking for more.
“I’m going to kill you,” he said calmly.
“I know,” she replied.
“It’s a shame,” he walked back to his chair and sat down, leaving her with the empty measuring cup, “we have so much in common. This really should have worked out differently.” He reached into a small duffel bag and withdrew her .38 Special. “I want to kill you. You want to kill me…” He set the gun on the stool, and reached back into the bag. This time he came up with her Taser. “We were made for each other. Too bad you are such a dumb fucking bitch.” He still spoke with eerie calmness.
She stayed silent.
“I learned something new about you this morning while the sun was coming up.” When she didn’t respond, he exploded, shouting at her angrily, “don’t you want to know what I learned?” He started to get out of the chair.
“What,” she said shakily, “what did you learn?”
He sunk back into the chair. “You’re a better lay when you’re unconscious than when you’re awake.”
She whimpered involuntarily.
Malcolm laughed. “I tried to wake you up. I’m sure you can feel the bruises. But I guess you drank a little more iced tea than you should have.”
Jennifer glanced down at the empty measuring cup.
“No, sweetheart,” he spat out, “I don’t have any more Rohypnol. I want you wide awake when I kill you. I want you to feel everything. I want to hear you scream when I cut your face back open.”
“Why, Mac? Why?”
He stood up, “because, to quote a friend of mine, you took a dump on my entire life.” He was on her instantly. He grabbed her right arm and handcuffed it to the metal bed frame. He stood upright and looked down at her. “I might have let you live, but I can’t go to prison. Do you know what happens to cops in there?”
“You were a jail guard,” she said reflexively.
He backhanded her across the face. “Don’t belittle me, you stupid bitch.” He raised his hand again, clenched his fist, and then held it in the air. “No. I won’t let you control me.” He lowered his hand. “I talked to my friend, Derrick, while you were still sleeping it off. He reminded me that I am the one in control. He told me to do this my way, not your way. I have plans for you, and you’re not going to fuck it up this time.” He shoved the weapons back into the duffel bag, and left the house through what she assumed was the front door.
She heard the sound of a lock clicking into place, and noticed that there was a fairly new, key out deadbolt on the inside of the
door. She surveyed the small windows, all of which were covered by thick, half-rotted curtains. The curtains over the window directly across the room were parted slightly. Her heart sunk when she was able to determine that there were bars crisscrossing the glass.
11
Olivia stepped into the living room where Nora was in deep conversation with her two current refugees. Nora stopped mid-sentence and looked up. Livi nodded for her to follow. She excused herself and followed her sister in law to the outbuilding that served as their office. She waited while Livi unlocked the two deadbolts, and then turned a third key in the doorknob.
Inside, Livi had a regional map laid out on the desk. She motioned for Nora to take a look. “These are all of the places that Cole went when I was following him.” She indicated the small red stars at several points on the map. “Most of these are in well populated areas, friends’ houses, that kind of thing. He stopped here at one point,” she tapped her finger on the map, “and bought some weed. It’s a sketchy area but there are too many people in the shadows watching the comings and goings, so I don’t think he’d take her anywhere near this place.”
Nora nodded her agreement. “What about this?” She pointed to an area south of Loop 1604.
“I’m not sure what that was about. He drove around there aimlessly one night. I actually had to back off because his path was so circuitous that he would have caught on if I’d stayed with him.” She uncapped a blue pen. “While I was on him he more or less circled this area.” She circled it on the map. “I didn’t see where he ended up. But I waited at this outlet here. He went past me less than thirty minutes later and drove straight home. This could be the place.”
Nora sensed her uncertainty. “But?”
“But,” she pulled the map across the table so that the northern end was closer to them, “my gut tells me that this is more likely where he has her.” She tapped an area about halfway between New Braunfels and Canyon Lake. “I followed him until he turned off onto this crappy little road right here. I kept going, pulled over a little way down the road and checked the GPS. I could see on the map that there was no other outlet, so I walked back to the road and waited. He came back out two hours later and went back the way he came.”
“What did you find down that road?”
Livi almost smiled. “This road leads to a long dirt driveway. I took the truck up the drive and found an old, seemingly abandoned house, a rusting RV up on blocks, and a couple of junkers. I haven’t been able to connect him to the property, but there wasn’t anyone else there.”
“Did you find out who owns it?”
“Guy by the name of Wade Jansen. From what I can discern, he’s about ninety-two years old.”
Nora shook her head. “I’d bet good money that Wade’s dead.”
“Me, too. I need to get out there and look around sooner rather than later.”
“And you want me to check out the area in the circle,” Nora slid the map back up and put her finger on the area. “You know I can’t do what you do. If I find them, all I can do is call the cops and hope to God they get there in time.”
“Take a burner with you, and leave your mobile in the desk drawer.”
Nora slipped her cell phone out of her pocket. She grabbed a set of keys off the key rack and thrust them at Livi. “Take the truck since he’s already seen that vehicle in the area. But get gas in town before you go.” She dropped her phone in the drawer and watched as Livi locked it and unlocked the second drawer. Nora grabbed an unopened, pay as you go, flip phone.
Livi looked out the window toward the house. “Are the girls going to be okay here alone?”
“They have each other and a shotgun. It’s the best we can do for them right now.”
***
Detective Sherman answered his partner’s phone. “Detective Glade’s phone. Detective Sherman speaking.”
“Sherman, it’s Luther Jones. Wanted to let you boys know that Terry Smith is alive and well. We’re on our way to talk to her right now. It appears that this was nothing more than a dispute with her ex-boyfriend.”
“He didn’t hurt her?”
“No,” Jones said. “The boyfriend demanded that she go with him so they could hash some things out. Terry didn’t tell anyone where she was going, and when she didn’t come home for a couple of days her roommate panicked ‘cause of our girl in the park.”
Sherman breathed a sigh of relief. He saw Glade walk through the door and motioned him over. “She filing charges?”
“I’ll give you two guesses. Hey, something else I need to tell you.”
“Hang on, Glade’s back.” He handed the phone to his partner. He was relieved that their missing person was found alive and well. That’s the way it went down most of the time. But he didn’t think Jennifer Golden would be so fortunate.
“Yeah,” he heard Glade say, “I don’t care what time it is. You call me the second you get that warrant. Thanks, Jones.” He hung up and turned to Sherman. “Waiting on a warrant to track Cole’s cell phone. When they go looking for him, I’m going with them.”
“I’m in. Did he tell you the good news?”
Glade stopped in the middle of what he was doing. “There’s good news?”
“The missing college student was found holed up, and hashing it out with her ex. She is unharmed.”
Glade let out a sigh of relief.
“I’m going to try and get dinner before they call about Cole’s whereabouts. You coming?”
“That’s the first good idea you’ve had all day, Doug.”
***
“Honeyyy, I’m hooome,” Malcolm said as he swung the door open. A split second before it him hit, he saw the motion of a wooden stool swinging toward him. He dropped the grocery bag, and turned so that his shoulder took the blow. The well-worn stool broke into several pieces. He felt a flash of pain in his shoulder and another on the side of his skull when the seat broke off and flew into his head. He reached out and grasped at Jennifer with his injured left arm, dropping the duffel bag full of weapons. He caught her by her blouse and yanked her toward him, wrapping his right hand around her throat as soon as she was in range.
She slapped and clawed at him. She pried at his arm as he was forcefully walking her backward toward the bed. His grip on her neck tightened with each step. Her lungs were burning for fresh air. She was already starting to feel lightheaded.
The pain from her clawing at his arm made Malcolm tighten his grip as he shoved her into the room. He got his left arm free and punched her in the face with a weak roundhouse. She started to drop toward the floor and he threw her back toward the mattress, releasing his grasp on her neck as he did so. He reached for the handcuffs that were still attached to the bed frame.
Jennifer hit the bed and gasped for air just as she was about to lose consciousness. She knew that she was going to pay dearly for her attempted escape, but she had known that it was her only chance to get out alive. She slumped on the bed, almost completely resigned to her fate. She felt him grab the wrist that she’d wrenched out of the handcuffs. He clamped the cold metal on her wrist and closed the cuff until it was painfully tight. At this point, she knew she’d have to cut her hand off in order to get free of him again. Before she had time to contemplate the idea, he punched her in the side of the head.
Mac felt a great deal of satisfaction with the blow that he had landed. The first one was weak. This one had let her know who was in charge. He went across the room to the kitchen counter and retrieved a zip tie. “You see what I get for being nice to you? I wanted you to be more comfortable while I was gone.” He backhanded her across the face again. He loved the look and feel of a good backhand to her stupid bitch of a face. He forced her free hand up next to her cuffed hand and zip tied them together.
Having both of her arms stretched above her head at an odd angle was not only painful, but was constricting her breathing. She w
anted to move. She desperately wanted to find a position that eased the pressure on her neck and throat. But Jennifer was terrified that if she so much as twitched, it would only get worse.
Without a word, Mac went and picked up the fallen bag of groceries. He unloaded the items onto the counter. He walked back out the front door, kicking aside pieces of the demolished stool as he went. After a few minutes he returned with a small Styrofoam cooler full of ice. He set the cooler down, opened the lid and pulled out a can of beer. He sat down in his recliner and pressed the unopened, cold beverage to the lump forming on the side of his head.
He stared at her for several minutes. He suddenly sat forward and looked at her. “I preferred what you were wearing earlier.” He set the beer down, reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife. He flipped the blade open and stood up. He looked down at her, taking her in from head to toe. He grasped her blouse, pulled it upward and sliced it from the neck down. He yanked it off of her body and tore it into strips. He then went for her bra, sawing at the straps until they gave way.
Jennifer cringed at his touch, and turned her head.
He grabbed her face and forced her to look at him. “You brought this all on yourself. It didn’t have to be this way.” Without letting go of her face, he climbed onto the bed and straddled her. He touched the tip of the blade to the top of the scar that he had given her. Mac was immeasurably pleased to see that it hadn’t healed well. He dug the tip of the blade into her cheek right next to the scar tissue. She gasped and pressed her body down into the bed. He watched the blood pool at the tip of his knife and then roll down her cheek.
For a moment, Jennifer considered begging him to kill her and get it over with. She didn’t think she had any fight left in her, or any hope of surviving after he tortured her. So, why wait? “You’re right,” she whispered, her survival instinct kicking in after all. “I was terrible to you.”
He reared his head back in surprise, pulling the tip of the knife blade out of her flesh. He had expected her to beg. He had hoped that she might still fight a little. But this was not what he anticipated.
