Frank was going over Burrows’ profile on the Magic Man that she had emailed to him Friday afternoon. It said that none of the information the Magic Man gave Alice Timberlake, or any other victim, should be taken seriously––he’d more than likely told her what he wanted the FBI to think.
Yes , Frank thought, the Magic Man has lied through his teeth about everything. He said he’d never touched any of his victims—he’s probably had sex with them all. On the other hand, if he wants us to think he was Uncle Joe in Barbara Hodges’ dream, an old man with a big prick and an enormous sexual appetite, then he could well be impotent. So which one was he?
Frank then read the part where it said the Magic Man had left home when he was in his late teens, and his father had died of a heart attack while arguing with a neighbor. Frank thought, Yeah, and maybe he’s still living with his parents, and his father wasn’t a Bible-thumper, but is an Islamic extremist.
The profile summed up that they thought the Magic Man to be a white male, around 60 years old, and married, with children and grandchildren. Possibly, he was someone within the legal system because he had sorted out justice on more than one occasion. Maybe a lawyer, or even a judge––perhaps retired from the bench. Yes, thought Frank, I’m sure that’s exactly what he would want us to think.
It was like putting a profile on the invisible man. He tossed the report on his desk, thinking it wasn’t worth the paper it was written on. It frustrated Frank because they’d missed the Magic Man in the shopping centre, but Agent Reed had told him it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. However, there was still hope. Burrows was still trying to win the Magic Man’s friendship. Frank would keep his team shadowing Agent Jones, and he now had Agent Campbell, as well, hoping the Magic Man would slip up and get out of his rape case. Campbell promised Frank he’d keep him up to date on the case. Time is on our side, Frank told himself unconvincingly. Let Burrows try to win him over; it will make our work easier. But he still couldn’t figure out why the Magic Man was helping the FBI instead of going into hiding. A tap on his door broke his thoughts.
“Are you busy, boss?” Agent Sam Davidson asked, as his partner Tara Jimson pushed past him.
“I hope you two have good news for me.” Frank halfheartedly pointed to the chairs opposite him.
“Well, we phoned all the churches, chapels, and gospel halls in California,” Agent Jimson said as she plunked herself down. “As you are aware, few were willing to talk about confessions they heard from their parishioners.”
“Most of the ones we looked into had nothing to do with the Magic Man,” Agent Davidson chimed in. “However, we’ve got two incidents that sound like our man’s work.” They pulled out their notebooks, and Davidson went on: “About three years ago, a young woman went to see her priest. She was at the edge of a nervous breakdown. Apparently, she was being blackmailed into having sex with one of the local thugs. She told the priest that it had been going on for two months.
“Her husband was in prison for burglary, doing 18 months.” He looked up from his notes, and saw Frank was waiting patiently. “She said if she went to the police, her husband would be beaten up and raped by the thug’s friends inside the prison. The priest told her she had to go to the police and have the man locked up. But, the woman was stubborn, she would rather put up with being raped than the thought of her husband being beaten and raped in prison. So she and the priest just prayed together to God for help; it was all she wanted––to confess her sins.
“Then, one night this thug came to her house and demanded supper––like he did about three nights a week. Afterward, he dragged her off to the bedroom and told her to strip.” Davidson looked at Frank. “This is where the strange part comes in. He was halfway through taking his pants off, when he said to her ‘what am I doing?’––He apologized to her, and then went to the police and confessed to the rape.”
“Do you think the Magic Man somehow hypnotized this guy into going to the police?” Frank asked, as he sat forward.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking. However, when the police went by to see the woman and asked if the story was accurate, and if she wanted to press rape charges, she told them no. She said she had never seen him before. Later, she confessed to the priest that she had lied to the police because she didn’t want her husband to know she had sex with another man while he was inside. The police had no alternative other than to let the guy go. That night, the woman dreamt her husband came to her and told her to go to the police and tell them the truth; or, the next time that guy raped her, the police wouldn’t believe her. That convinced us it was the Magic Man’s work. The priest accompanied her to the police station, and the guy was rearrested––he didn’t put up a fight.”
“And this took place three years ago––where?”
“In a small town,” Davidson glanced at his notes: “just outside Sacramento.”
“I take it the guy is in prison, now, doing time for rape?” Before one of them could answer, Frank went on: “I want you to interview him, see if he truly was hypnotized. If he says he was, try to find out if he can remember who he spoke to that day, as well as any strangers he met a few days before.”
“Yes, sir.” Davidson nodded. “So, do you think it might have been the work of the Magic Man?”
“Probably not, but it’s worth finding out more about it.” He turned to Agent Jimson: “You said there were two incidents?”
“Yes.” She straightened up in her chair. “This one is weird, and it happened 47 years ago.”
“Hmmm,” Frank nodded, “if our man was in his 20’s then, that would make him 67 years old, or more, now.”
“The man in question was young.” Agent Jimson looked at her notes before continuing: “A Father O’Brian returned our call with a story, so we went to Santa Barbara to check it out.” She cleared her throat. “When Father O’Brian was a young priest, he was an assistant to Father Thomas. The story goes that a young girl in the town went to confession and told Father Thomas that she thought the spirit of Peter the Fisherman had been paying her visits in her dreams.” She noticed Frank raise his eyebrows as if he was going to ask a question. He didn’t, so she continued: “She said she’d had a dream about him, but thought she woke up. There was a young man kneeling by her bed, holding her hand. He said he was Peter, a friend of Jesus, and had come to pray with her. She fell back to sleep, but she vaguely remembered it as being so real. This went on for about four nights. Then, one night, Peter told her that Jesus said it was time for her to lose her virginity. He got into bed and had sex with her. That’s when she thought it might not be a dream, so she decided to tell Father Thomas. Father Thomas didn’t think it was the spirit of Peter. He asked if all the doors and windows were locked. She told him they were. The only man in the house was her father, and he had a beard. The girl said Peter was young and clean-shaven. Father Thomas didn’t want to accuse her father, so he told the girl to lock her window and put a chair up against her bedroom door to ensure no one could get into her room.”
Davidson held his hand up and interrupted her: “The girl’s bedroom was on the ground floor.” He nodded for her to go on.
“Yes––well, nothing happened for the next few nights, then one morning she woke up naked. Her pajamas were on the floor in a pile, and so was her underwear. She had no recollection of any dream. The window was locked and the chair was pushed up against the door. She asked Father Thomas to do an exorcism to free the spirit of Peter. Father Thomas had to tell her mother and father what had gone on, and asked their permission to carry out an exorcism. Well, the mother couldn’t keep a secret like that to herself. Before long, the whole town was coming to visit the house that Peter the Fisherman had blessed with his visit. Peter never called on the girl again.” Agent Jimson closed her book. “I guess whoever it was wouldn’t call again, not with half the town hoping he would, and looking out for Peter the Fisherman. I reckon he’d move on.”
“Do you think it’s the same MO as the Magic Man?” Agent Davidson
asked eagerly.
“There are some similarities.” Frank leaned back in his chair. “His last victim had sex with the Three Musketeers and the Cardinal of France. So why not Peter the Fisherman? You said her underwear was on the floor with her pajamas … if you had said they were folded on top of her slippers, then I’d have to say yes. But that doesn’t mean the Magic Man hasn’t evolved his practices over time.” He shrugged.
“So what do you think?” Jimson asked.
“It might be our guy.”
“It could have been one of his first victims, maybe he hadn’t mastered the hypnosis, yet,” Davidson suggested.
“On the other hand,” Frank spoke casually, “it could also have been an intruder. It would have been easy to open a window, especially 47 years ago. They didn’t have the security we do now. He might have gotten in and saw the girl sleeping, and thought he’d try his luck. She might even have been dreaming about a Peter––maybe a boy she knew, had a crush on–
–and said his name out loud.”
“She’d have to be a heavy sleeper,” Jimson said.
“Some people are.” Frank picked up Burrows’ report. “Read this, and catch up on the Magic Man’s latest escapades in Agents Jones and Campbell’s reports.” He handed it to Jimson. “According to Mrs. Timberlake, the Magic Man left home in his late teens. He never told his parents he was thinking of leaving, he just left a note and disappeared.”
“Could he have been afraid of being caught?” Jimson asked. “If he was this Peter guy, he couldn’t tell his parents why he was moving on.”
“That’s for you to find out.” Frank noticed their faces change to bewilderment. “I want you to go back and see Father O’Brian. The Magic Man said his father had a heart attack in the street while arguing with a woman over their kids. He was preaching the Bible to her and he just collapsed and died. See if Father O’Brian heard of someone like that years ago.” Frank gave them both a polite smile. “I think it’s another dead end, but who knows?” Frank stood––his way of telling them the meeting was over. “I’m going to ask Agent Burrows to see if she can get the Magic Man to admit to these two incidents. You two can see what that guy in prison says about being hypnotized; hopefully, Father O’Brian will remember the Magic Man’s father collapsing in the street, and give you a name. Now, that would be a feather in our caps.” With that, Frank sat down and turned to his computer, dismissing them.
Chapter28
On Sunday, Agent Burrows spoke with three universities about handing over their student photos, and she managed to get an FBI team out to retrieve the pictures.
Two universities gave them the yearbooks; the other one had the photos on the computer. The agents transferred the photos to a memory stick and delivered everything to Alice’s house on Sunday afternoon.
Early Monday morning, Agent Burrows was in her Quantico office, waiting to hear from Alice. By 10 a.m., she couldn’t wait any longer, so she phoned her. “Hi Alice, it’s Agent Burrows––any luck with the photos?”
“No. We looked through all of them yesterday, and last night Joe said no luck.”
“That’s all right.” Burrows could hear the frustration in Alice’s voice. “There should be more arriving today. There are over a dozen universities and colleges from Buellton to San Diego, so we’ll start with them; then, if we have to, we’ll go further out. The institutions are reluctant to hand over any photos or information on the students, even to the FBI––some even suggested we get warrants. We’ll send the images as we get them.”
“Let’s hope we get a match,” Alice’s voice was full of disappointment. “It will be a waste of time, otherwise.”
“The FBI is used to having their time wasted; most of our leads are dead-ends.” Burrows thought she would cheer Alice up with a little flattery. “Anyway, Alice, I thought you did well on Saturday, I was impressed.”
“Thanks, I only did what Joe told me to do.” The doorbell rang. “I’ve got to go, there’s someone at the door. More pictures, I hope.”
Burrows hung up the phone, only to have it buzz straight away. “Burrows speaking.”
“Agent Burrows, there’s a Frank Brubaker from Homeland Security on line one for you.”
She pressed the button. “Mr. Brubaker––what a surprise.”
Brubaker didn’t waste any words: “I’ve just read your profile on the Magic Man.” He wasn’t going to bullshit her and say it was helpful, though. “It seems you are winning him around through this Timberlake woman. It’s fascinating and, at the same time, unbelievable that they can communicate through her dreams.”
“That’s why you guys call Joe the Magic Man.” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she repeated what Alice had once said to her.
Frank smiled. “He’s had a few aliases over the years, and that’s why I am phoning you.”
Burrows ears pricked up with curiosity. “I’m honored.”
“I’ve had a couple of old cases handed to me, and I was wondering if Mrs. Timberlake could ask Joe if he had anything to do with them?”
“Are you expecting Joe to admit to them?”
“In one case, he might have even helped the police. The other goes back 47 years. The young woman in question thought the spirit of Peter the Fisherman was coming to her in her dreams,” he said flatly. “The guy took her pajamas and panties off, left them on the floor, and then got into bed with her and took her virginity.”
“You actually expect Joe to say he was Peter the Fisherman, and he raped that girl?” Burrows couldn’t believe he’d ask such a question.
“I just thought he might, knowing there would be no charges laid against him if he did. We can’t charge someone for a crime after so many years. You know how some guys like to brag, once they know nothing can be done about it.”
“You think he’s going to boast about raping someone?” Burrows was on the verge of laughing at Frank.
“No harm in asking; I would like to hear what he has to say.”
“Hang on a moment, here.” Burrows was getting protective of Joe: “I thought you guys took Joe off the most wanted list––hasn’t the government given Joe an amnesty––a pardon? If so, why is Homeland Security interested in Joe’s past adventures?”
“It’s my job to keep track of Joe, as you call him. He could be a threat to this country. So the more I know about his past, the easier it will be to keep an eye on him.”
Burrows didn’t believe him. “If he was to admit he was that Peter, you’d have him up on a rape charge.”
“No. What he’s done in the past, as I said earlier, we can’t have him for. We don’t want to bring him in,” he lied. “I’m like you––just trying to get a profile on him from his past cases so we can try to follow his activities. We need to see what makes him tick and make sure he doesn’t get out of line; plus, we’d have a better idea of how old he is. We can’t keep an eye on him if we don’t have an inkling of who he is.” There was a moment of silence. “I’d like you to ask Joe about that Hodges woman, too.” He smiled as he pictured her trying to think of a good answer. “If he’s going to be a good boy, and work for you, then how come he turned up in Mrs. Hodges’ dream as her Uncle Joe, and screwed her when you said he liked watching from afar?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone line. Burrows shook her head, she had no answer.
Brubaker’s smile grew bigger. “Did you read the Hodges’ report? That’s got to be your Joe’s work. I think there was a message in that story for us, other than Old Joe was sleeping with Mrs. Hodges.”
“That’s three questions you want me to ask him.” Burrows couldn’t wait to get off the phone so she could scream and curse at Frank, without him knowing. “Look, Joe told me he wouldn’t get into the minds of any member of the FBI, so he’ll be a good boy around us. Other than that, as long as he doesn’t hurt anyone, what he does in his spare time should be none of our business anymore.” Burrows’ voice was tight with anger.
“I’ve sent
you an email.” Frank changed the subject quickly. “Oh, there’s one other issue we need to deal with––the Magic Man has to come in and sign the paperwork before he can receive his pardon. Thank you for your time Agent Burrows, I look forward to hearing from you.”
The phone went dead. Burrows held it in front of her and said out loud: “Pig … you overpaid pig!” They want him, she thought. But, they actually want him dead. Brubaker still considers Joe to be a threat. She turned to the computer to check the email from Frank. It was copies of Agents Davidson and Jimson’s reports.
~
Joe was with Alice, talking casually in her mind as she looked through the photos on her computer. She was halfway through when Joe screamed in her head. “That’s him!”
Alice jumped, and then looked back at the photo. “Scott Bailey … he’s the guy who said they shouldn’t kill Jessica, they should let her go. If he’s at this school, the other guy should be too.”
Alice was scared and excited. “You are brilliant Joe; no one else in the world could do what you have done. Wait until Burrows hears this!” She scrolled down the page, eagerly.
“There’s the other one––Alfred Cohen.” Joe was sure that was the boy who had blinded Jessica.
“I wish I could phone Burrows.” Alice had a job to keep her excitement under control. “I can’t believe I have to wait until the morning!”
“Yeah, we need to keep them thinking that I come to you only in your dreams. But, I know how you feel––I can’t wait, either.”
“So what’s our next move?”
“We have to wait to see what Burrows wants, and I have some other stuff to do, so I’ll be back bright and early in the morning.“
“Joe, what about the other two boys? Jessica didn’t get a look at them?”
However, Joe was already gone from her mind. Alice knew he had another life to live, where he had to keep his gift a secret from his family and friends. She switched her computer off and suddenly felt lost at Joe’s quick exit from her mind.
Get Out Of My Dreams Page 20
