“Maybe we will see if I can trust you. I will give it some thought. If you pass I will give you a few more privileges. Would you like that?”
“Oh yes sir,” she said immediately.
“Alright. We’ll see,” he said putting on his clothes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“No way,” I said.
“That can’t be right,” Dan added.
“Are you sure?” Brad said.
“Holy cow,” Marsha replied
Cindy just gasped.
Ned had the look of a man ready to face a firing squad. He had just done a computer check on all the victims and the potential support group organizations. Granted it included Ohio and Kentucky but we needed to know if we were even on the right path.
I looked at the list again. Just in our area we had sixty-one support groups for grieving men and women. A few were for women only so we decided to eliminate them for the time being. That still left us with fifty-seven.
“Okay, the only way to go about this expediently is if we breakdown the list and each take a few. We need to call and see if our victims from both this abduction and the last were in any of the groups. Then we need to get a list of names from everyone that attended during the same time. Obviously men are what we are most interested in. Someone that has lost a wife or said they just got a divorce.”
“We are looking for a white male. Probably twenty-five to thirty. He will probably have scars from where he was abused as a child. He may keep them covered up so ask about anyone wearing long sleeve shirts that they keep buttoned. He is smart so he may have used a disguise. Something like a fake beard or mustache. He would have been a lurker, listening but not saying much. Oh, and one more thing. He probably had poor dental hygiene. I doubt his parents were too concerned about his teeth or anything else,” Marsha told us.
We divided up the list and went to our respective work places to see if we could get a lead that was worth following up on.
**
Hey, it had seemed like a good idea. I was feeling pretty proud of myself. That is until we actually started calling. The problems we ran into were all over the place. Some didn’t want to give out any information no matter how hard we tried to shame them into it. Some were no longer holding meetings. With others all we got were answering machines. A couple even had disconnected numbers.
Like many of my great ideas, this one was starting to die on the vine. Undaunted, we didn’t finish until we had called every single one on the list. We were batting zero when we met again.
“Anyone come up with anything?” McGregor asked.
No one spoke up. We had just spent four hours and had virtually nothing to show for it. We were all aware that time was running out if we were ever going to get the women back alive.
“How many did we leave messages for?” I asked.
Everyone gave the number they had and we tallied it up and found we still had eleven that we had no answer from. It was a small glimmer of hope but at least we still had some.
“What I would like to do while we are waiting for calls is talk about what we know and what we still need to discover,” I said.
I went up to the white board and picked up the marker. This is a real police station. We don’t have one of those smart screens that let you grab hold of a picture or document and throw it around the room. I had no idea so many police stations and CSI divisions had those until I watched some of the shows. Golly, they must be real cheap or else they have unlimited budgets. We can’t even get the latest protective vests.
“Okay,” I said drawing a large T on the board, ‘KNOW’ I wrote on one side and ‘DON’T KNOW’ on the other.
“Let’s just put down whatever we have and then see if it can tell us anything. For example, we know he always takes three women.”
I wrote 3 WOMEN.
“He sexually and physically abuses them,” Dan contributed.
“He leaves them hung upside down with their throats slit,” Brad said.
“He uses something jagged like a saw”
“We don’t know how he subdues them,” Marsha added.
“Where is he getting his money?” the captain said.
We all turned and looked at him. That was a damn good question. He was running around in three states so where was he getting his money?”
I wrote that on the white board. We continued to go around the room until we couldn’t come up with anything else. I glanced at my watched and was surprised to see it was almost 7:30 p.m. I hadn’t even eaten since my coconut donuts for breakfast. Then I thought about the three women and suddenly it didn’t seem quite as important.
When we were finished our list looked like:
KNOW
3 WOMEN
ASSAULTS AND BEATS
HANGS THEM UPSIDE DOWN
CUTS THEIR THROATS WITH A JAGGED WEAPON
USES ISOLATED BARNS
COVERS HIS TRACKS WELL
TAKES THE VICTIM'S CAR
VICTIMS ALL DIVORCED
PROBABLY ABUSED AS A CHILD
WHITE MALE
ONLY KEEPS THEM A SHORT TIME
REPEATS CRIME EVERY 45-60 DAYS
NO WITNESSES
NO SURVIVORS
DON’T KNOW
HOW HE SUBDUES THEM
WHERE HE TAKES THEM
WHY 3
WHERE DOES THE MONEY COME FROM
WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE
IF HE USES A DISGUISE
HOW HE SELECTS THEM
WHERE HE TAKES THE VICTIM'S CARS
WHERE DOES HE MEET THEM
WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE LATEST VICTIMS
WHERE HE IS RIGHT NOW
We had our list but I’ll be damned if I could see anything that would help us. I guess it just made me feel better that we were all looking at the same facts. I heard the phone ringing at my desk. I was hoping it was one of the support centers calling back. I ran over to my desk and answered the phone.
“Detective Bartoni.”
“Yes, I’m calling a Detective Bartoni back. This is the Reach Out Support Center.”
Ever notice how people never listen? I answer Bartoni and they ask for Bartoni. I’m giving some thought to answering with a different name and then telling them to hold while I get myself.
Instead I said, “I’m Detective Bartoni.”
“Oh, Yes. I was returning your phone call.”
“Thank you so much. I’m calling about three women who have been abducted. We think they may have been in a support group and somehow the perpetrator was able to use that information.”
“Oh dear. You are talking about Lauren, Betty, and Linda. They were all a part of our group. We have been worried sick about what could have happened to them,” she said.
I almost jumped out of my chair. Pay dirt. We had finally found at least one piece of the puzzle. This was part of his MO.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” I said, trying to stay calm.
“Victoria Laughton. I’m the session leader,” she told me.
“Listen, I need to talk to you immediately. Where are you?”
“Well right now I’m in my office at the First Methodist Church. We have a support meeting in just a few minutes.”
“Alright Ms. Laughton. I’m going to be coming to talk to you with a couple of FBI agents. I would be grateful if could get all of your records indicating who has attended these meetings at the same time the other women did,” I told her, trying to make it sound official.
“Can I do that?” she asked.
“Absolutely. This is a federal crime. You can show us anything that has not had a confidentiality form signed for it.”
“Oh heavens, we don’t do that. We just take some basic information. Nothing personal that they don’t want to share. They can even be anonymous if they like.”
“I understand. Just one more question before you go. Are there men in attendance?”
“Oh my yes. Most of the time they are grieving for a lost one.”
“We usually get three basic types. Those who have lost a wife to death. Then there are those who have been divorced. Usually the wife has left them for one reason or another. They are often kind of shy. They feel they weren’t doing a good enough job in their marriage. The last are the lurkers. They are just looking to see if they can hit on any of the divorced women. I can usually tell those immediately and I make it clear that they are not welcome. This is not a meeting place to pick up women. I send them on their way pretty quickly,” she told me.
“That’s good information to know. Look, I know you need to run, but thank you for calling. We will be out there in while and won’t bother you until after your meeting is over,” I assured her.
“I would appreciate that. The sessions last for an hour. I look forward to talking to you,” Ms. Victoria Laughton said and hung up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The drive over was more tense than usual because we all realized this could either be a big break or a total bust. I wanted to believe that this would really help us but since nothing else had gone our way, I was apprehensive. Normally I can pretty much go with the flow but every minute we spent tracking down a potential lead could mean the death of one of the women.
I kept picturing Tim in my mind when he ran to his aunt. I took a deep breath and tried to relax even though Dan was driving way too fast for the conditions. It had started to pour down rain just as we piled into the car. The first fifteen minutes in the rain are always the most dangerous for car wrecks. The oil embedded in the surface is lifted by the water and makes the road even more slick.
I was relieved when I saw the church looming out of the mist being thrown up. Dan pulled into the lot and I think we all gave a sigh of relief. I did notice that Marsha looked even more ghostly than usual.
We made a mad dash for the door of the church and shook as much of the water off us as we could before entering. For some reason you always talk just a little quieter at a church.
“Where do you suppose we go?” Ned asked no one in particular.
“Well the hall goes in both directions. I would imagine they have classrooms off the hallways. Most churches do,” Dan replied.
“How about we follow the sign to the office?” I suggested pointing to a directory that indicated the church office was off to the right.
Sure enough, just a few feet down the hall we came to the office. Unfortunately it was locked. I didn’t feel quite so cocky now.
“Now what?” Brad asked.
“We are headed this way, we might as well continue,” I replied and started off. We looked in each of the rooms as we went by but found no one around. This was just plain silly. They had to be here someplace.
“How about upstairs?” Brad suggested when we got to the end of the hall.
At the top of the stairs we found a large expanse of open area. At the far end of the room we could see a group of men and women sitting around in a circle. Someone was talking but we couldn’t hear anything from where we stood.
Dan nodded toward a coffee maker with a pot of coffee that looked like it had been brewed recently. I figured he was asking if it was alright and I nodded my head to let him know it was cool. He poured a cup for himself and then Brad, Ned and Cindy all got one as well.
I looked at my watch. Tick-tock. Every minute could be the last for these women. I was getting anxious and starting to pace when I heard the chairs being moved around. I saw that they were starting to stand and talk among themselves, probably the way they did at the end of every meeting. Eventually they made their way toward us and filed down the stairs. A few looked at us quizzically, a few ignored us totally and one woman seemed pretty hostile.
“I’m Mrs. Laughton. Which one of you is the person I talked to earlier,” she asked.
She should have been a librarian. I don’t mean that in an unkind way but she had a certain ‘soft’ look about her. I put her age at around fifty-five to sixty. She was thin and had a long jaw line. I don’t know what it was that made me think librarian but nevertheless, I did.
“That would be me. Detective Angie Bartoni.”
“Yes. This is about three of our group. It was hard to stay on track tonight, they kept wanting to talk about the women. Some were considering dropping out of this.”
“I understand and that’s one reason we have to get this guy and put him away. Was this about the normal size of your group tonight.”
“Well, we usually have a few more.”
I’m thinking, duh. You’re missing at least four right now.
“What men? Are any of the usual men missing?”
“A couple. Men aren’t as committed as women. They tend to come once or twice and see what it is all about. It is so much harder for them to admit they need help. It happens occasionally but for the most part we only see them a few times.”
“Could we see you list of attendees from the past month?” Brad asked.
“You are?”
“Oh, sorry. Special Agent Brad Pendergrass with the FBI. I should have introduced my team,” he said apologetically.
“Oh, no need. I doubt I would remember them anyway.”
“About the list?” Brad said.
“Well, you’re sure I won’t get in trouble?” Laughton asked.
“Absolutely,” Brad assured her.
“Alright then,” she said and passed over a folder to him.
He looked up at her and asked, “Does everyone sign in each evening?”
“The list is sitting here by the coffee and they usually sign in when they get coffee or water. Sometimes they forget. It is not a requirement. If I happen to notice their name was missing and they really were here, I usually pencil it in at the bottom of the last name,” she said pointing to an example.
“I see,” was all he said.
"Is there anything that struck you as odd about any of the men? Anyone who payed particular attention to Lauren, Betty, or Linda," I asked.
"Honestly, I want to help but I can't think of anyone suspicious."
“We won’t keep you any longer. This is a big help. The FBI and the police thank you for your willingness to get involved,” Brad said.
“What about the women? Will you be able to find them in time?” she asked.
“We certainly hope so. The answer may be right here in this list,” Brad replied.
“I certainly hope that helps.”
We made our way down the stairs and the woman that had given us the harsh look was standing there with her fists on her hips. When we got to the bottom of the stairs she unloaded on us.
“What is with you people? Four women are missing and you are just walking around. Why aren’t you out there beating the bushes? Why isn’t every policeman in this city out looking for them. We pay good money to be protected and you can’t even keep three women traveling together from being snatched off the streets in broad daylight. Next thing you know, you will be asking for a pay raise,” she ranted at us.
“I understand your frustration,” I said.
“Understand? Understand? I don’t need you to understand. What I want is for you to do your job.”
“That’s why we are here. We are trying to do our job.”
“By standing around drinking coffee?” she said glaring at us.
I really did understand where she was coming from but confronting us like this was actually a waste of our time. We needed to get back to the station and see if we could find anything in the list that would help us.
I had sort of tuned her out until I heard the ‘B word’ thrown in my direction. I’m not big on being call that by anyone. Several thoughts flashed through my mind at once but I decided it wasn’t worth it. We had bigger fish to fry.
The best thing for me to do at that point was simply walk away which is exactly what I did. I could still hear her mouth even when we turned the corner of the hallway to exit the building. Maybe I’m wrong about people being quieter in the church
.
It was still raining but I just walked to the car. Brad ran past me and opened the door and I got in and just sat there. He started the car and turned on the heater. Nothing but cold air came out making me even more miserable that I already was.
“She was wrong to say those things,” he said as he put the car in gear.
“I know.”
“I mean it. You could have arrested her for that last stream. Geez, and she was in the church. What does that say about her?” Dan said from the back seat.
“It wasn’t worth it. It would have proved nothing in the long run. We have more important work to do. I just hope something comes from that list.”
“Well, you want to stop and get some donuts,” Dan said from the back seat causing everyone to crack up.
“Yeah, they didn’t have any at the church,” Ned added causing another outburst.
It broke the tension which is what we all needed at the moment. The drive back was more relaxed. The fact that Brad was driving instead of Dan didn't hurt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The barn was freezing. Rain dripped in through holes in the roof. Naked and in the dark, Lauren tried to think of other things. Timmy. What would happen to him? Would her sister look after him? Of course. They had always been close. At least he would have his aunt.
Her worthless ex-husband wouldn’t do anything to help. He never cared about Tim anyway. Not once had he called at Christmas, his birthday, or any other time. He was a skirt chasing, self-centered jerk. Why she had ever married him was a mystery to her.
Headlights flashed through the cracks in the side of the barn. At least he would start the generator and she would have light and maybe some heat from the small heater he had placed under the work bench.
The lights went out of the van and she waited. She could hear his steps as he came to the barn and opened the door. He stood there in the dim light looking in.
WHAT GOES AROUND - ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILE #4 (ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILES Book 1) Page 8
