Donors

by C. M. Sutter

  We found the building and the entrance to the parking garage. Luckily, it was a manned booth. I’m sure that was only because the building housed government offices. J.T. pulled forward. When we approached, I saw the guard glance down at our government plates.

  “Get your badge ready. You know he’ll want to see it,” J.T. said.

  I unclipped my FBI badge from the lanyard and handed it to J.T. He shifted the car into Park, leaned forward, and pulled the bifold badge wallet from his back pocket.

  “Afternoon, sir,” J.T. said as he passed the badges out the car window.

  “Here to see anyone in particular, Agent…”—the guard looked down at J.T.’s badge— “Harper?”

  “We have a meeting set up with Captain…” J.T. looked at me.

  “Um, give me a second.” I checked the text again then leaned toward the window so the guard could see me. “Captain Sullivan, sir.”

  “One moment, please.”

  We waited as he made a quick call and mentioned our names. He held our badges then hung up. “You’re good to go. The police department is on the fourth floor, so I’d look for an open parking spot on that level. There’s an enclosed footbridge that will take you directly into the building. Have a nice day, agents.” He handed our badges back through the window, pressed a button, and lifted the gate. He gave us a nod as J.T. drove through.

  “Humph. They’ve got good security here.”

  “Don’t be that impressed. It’s only because this is a rough neighborhood. That’s why Val couldn’t find any decent hotels around here. I don’t know if you noticed or not, but that guard was armed.”

  “Yeah, I saw that too.” Once J.T. reached level four, I watched for an open parking space. I pointed at taillights backing up. “It looks like that car is leaving.”

  “Perfect timing.” J.T. waited until the vehicle pulled out and drove away, then he slipped the cruiser into that designated visitors’ spot.

  “Hang on a sec. I want to call Spelling before we get out.”

  J.T. reached for his phone and checked emails while I made the call.

  “Hello, sir. Just wanted to tell you we’re about to head into the police station. We had an uneventful drive, and I’ll call you back as soon as we leave here to go to the medical examiner’s office. Okay, talk to you later.” I clicked off, and J.T. silenced his phone and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

  “What did Spelling say?”

  “Nothing except to call him again after our initial meeting here.”

  J.T. pulled the keys out of the ignition and hooked them on his index finger. “Ready?”

  “Yeah, I have the folders.”

  We exited the car, and J.T. hit the lock button on the fob. He pocketed the keys, and we crossed the footbridge into the police department. Inside, we approached the long counter that spanned the width of the waiting area. Four officers, two male and two female, sat behind the counter, busy with various duties.

  A female officer stood and called us over. “May I help you?”

  J.T. spoke for both of us. “Yes, thanks. We’re FBI Agents Harper and Monroe, here to see Captain Sullivan. He’s expecting us.”

  We automatically pulled out our badges because showing them to her was likely the next thing she’d ask us to do.

  She smiled. “Reading my mind, are you?” She compared our faces to the images on the IDs then asked us to sign in. “Captain Sullivan should be out to greet you in just a minute.” She pointed at the waiting lounge. “There are beverages and magazines over there if you’d like to have a seat.”

  I thanked her, and we poured ourselves coffee and paced. I had sat enough during the last few hours.

  “Agents Harper and Monroe, I assume? I’m Captain Sullivan.”

  We turned to see a tall man, possibly twenty pounds overweight, heading toward us with his hand outstretched. He looked to be in his mid-forties with balding brown hair and a thin mustache.

  I pocketed the sunglasses that were still on the top of my head and gave him a firm handshake. “I’m Agent Monroe, and this gentleman is Agent Harper. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

  “Likewise.” He shook J.T.’s hand and pointed at the hallway. “Right this way, agents. My office is around the corner.”

  We walked the glossy tiled hallway with Captain Sullivan to a large glass-walled office. Two comfortable looking guest chairs faced a desk stacked sky-high with paperwork. He tipped his head toward the mess.

  “See why we need your help?” He gestured toward the chairs. “Please, have a seat. I’ll summarize what we know so far.” Captain Sullivan plopped down on his desk chair. The leather let out a long objecting hiss. “I have two detectives working this case exclusively, and they can go over details more thoroughly with you. They took the witness statements, they’ve spoken with the families, and they’ve gone over the autopsy results with the medical examiner.”

  “You said witness statements?”

  “Well, by that, I mean the person who called in the discovery in each case. We don’t actually have witnesses, per se, who saw an assailant or anyone disposing of the bodies at the locations where they were found.”

  “Understood,” J.T. said. “Are there any theories bubbling in your, or the detectives’, minds?”

  “Nothing that has panned out. We’ve had time, agents, since the first and second girls were discovered in December several weeks apart. Originally, we thought the first girl was an isolated murder until the second girl was found in that abandoned house. The manner of death looked identical in both cases. The serial factor didn’t come into play until the third girl was found Saturday.” He rubbed his head with both open hands.

  I offered my two cents. “It seems like the MO has changed a bit. According to the missing persons reports filed by the families, and the dates that the first two girls were discovered, there was a span of a few months before they were found. But this last young lady was discovered in less than two days. That could tell us a number of things.”

  “Such as?” Captain Sullivan looked at me with what appeared to be renewed hope.

  “One scenario could be that he waited to dump the first two victims because the outside temperature was still too warm when they actually died. It seemed like he tried to throw off the TOD by keeping those girls frozen. Otherwise their remains would have been decomposed. Now that the weather is below freezing, anyway, it doesn’t matter. He can dump his victims right away. Another theory could be that the living arrangements have changed for the perp. He, or she, may not have a secure place to hide their victims anymore.”

  J.T. added, “Or, they may feel remorse and want to get the body out of sight. Another scenario could be they got word of unexpected company stopping by and had to dispose of the last girl quickly. See what we’re getting at? Every new piece of the puzzle we find and put together leads us one step closer to the killer.”

  “Thank you, agents. That gives me hope.” The captain stood. “I’ll introduce you to the detectives on the case. Please join me in the conference room.”

  Chapter 5

  Since Sam worked only three days a week and every other Saturday, he had plenty of time to scope out the best areas to find women. It wasn’t the fact that they were women that mattered—blood was blood—but women were far easier to apprehend and control than men. Sam couldn’t afford any problems along the way. Keeping his mother alive was too important.

  He tucked the van into a spot at the far end of the parking lot. The paved trails weaved in and out, near busy streets, into the woods, and along a man-made lake. There were wide-open spaces, and that was usually where he’d find young ladies throwing balls for their dogs to fetch. That day, the parking lot was half full—just right. Too many people and he might be noticed by runners passing by. Too few and he wouldn’t have enough options. Dogs were good icebreakers, but at times, they posed a threat too. He’d stay away from large dogs if at all possible. He sat in the van with the heater turned up high and stared out the win
dshield. People came and went, but he was patient and waited for the perfect opportunity. A lone woman running on the other side of the lake caught his eye. Fewer people jogged in that area since it was a distance away. Sam grabbed his binoculars and peered through them. It didn’t look as though she had anything with her. He assumed she’d be grateful for a bottle of water. He slipped on his gloves, zipped a bottle into each side pocket of his lightweight jacket, and made sure his own bottle was on the left. He snugged his wool cap over his ears and exited the van.

  It’s time to get busy. Now to think of something to say that will cause her to stop.

  Coming up from behind made the most sense. She’d have no idea how long he’d been running. It would give him time to chat and gauge how tired she was. Being a friendly, good-looking guy couldn’t hurt.

  He closed in on her as he rounded the farthest area from the parking lot. He glanced over his shoulder. All was clear. She was a hundred feet ahead—now fifty. When he saw the bench at the next bend, the location couldn’t have been better. He’d pass her then cry out because of a leg injury. They’d sit for a minute, and he’d offer her some water as he drank his. The rest would be a cakewalk.

  He called out that he was on her left as he passed by, then he stumbled near the bench and grabbed his leg. “Ouch. Damn that hurts.”

  She slowed to a stop. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t put any weight on my leg, and pain is shooting through it.”

  “Let me give you a hand.” She motioned toward the bench. “Here, sit down.” She took a seat next to him. “What can I do to help? Did you twist your ankle?”

  “No, I think it’s a shin splint.”

  She nodded. “Those really hurt. Did you stretch and hydrate yourself before you started out?”

  He grinned through the wince he had perfected. “No, but water is a smart idea and actually sounds good right now.”

  “It sure does.”

  Sam reached into his right pocket and pulled out the first bottle. He handed it to her.

  “Oh, I can’t take your water. You need it more than I do.”

  “I have two.” He unzipped the left pocket and pulled out the second bottle. “I guess I had planned a long run.” He chuckled and made sure she noticed the twinkle in his playful blue eyes.

  She smiled. “It looks like your ambition may be cut short.” She twisted the lid and took a deep gulp. Sam did the same.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Molly Davis. What’s yours?”

  He did a quick scan of the area as he responded. “Sam—” He coughed into his hand to avoid saying his last name. He glanced at her shoes and laughed. “You’d be hard to miss with those lime-green runners.”

  “You like them?”

  “Yeah, they’re great. Do you come out here often, Molly?”

  “About twice a week, yet I’ve never seen you before.”

  “Yeah, I’m a newbie at this location.” He held up his plastic bottle to clink against hers. “To new friendships.” He tapped bottles and took a drink. He watched as she did the same. Her bottle was nearly empty. “You must have been really thirsty. Want the rest of mine?”

  “No, I’m good. Let me give you a hand back to your car,” Molly said.

  “Really, you’d do that?”

  She pulled her cap down tighter. “What are friends for? It’s getting colder outside, anyway. I’ll probably just leave too.” She stood and wobbled.

  “What was that?”

  She reached for the arm of the bench to steady herself. “I don’t know. Maybe I stood up too fast. I’ll be fine, but I’m going to sit in my car for a bit to make sure.”

  Sam pulled her tightly to him, his arm around her waist as they walked. Her legs were giving out. He had to get her to the van before somebody noticed them. There was one more bench before he reached the parking lot. With two people jogging toward them, he quickly sat down with Molly at his side. He leaned in and kissed her as the joggers passed. They had no idea she was unconscious.

  Chapter 6

  We took our seats around the oblong twelve-person conference room table along with the two detectives Captain Sullivan had introduced us to. Detectives Larry Andrews and Melanie Fitch were running the investigation on the blood-draining killer. I couldn’t help smiling when I met them. The guy-girl detective team reminded me of my old partner Jack and myself, and even more recently, as an FBI agent partnered with J.T. The captain excused himself by saying he would let us get busy, but he asked us to meet with him before we left that afternoon for the medical examiner’s office in Crown Point.

  Melanie Fitch poured coffee for the four of us then took her seat. J.T. and I had received folders that were about half as thick as the ones in front of Melanie and Larry. That was a good sign. They obviously had plenty more to tell us.

  “Where would you like us to begin, agents?” Melanie asked.

  J.T. tapped the table with his pencil. “Let’s go with the normal progression, one case at a time, starting with the first girl.”

  “That would be Corrine Lionel,” Larry said.

  I nodded and opened my folder to Corrine’s pages. J.T. mirrored my movements and pulled out his notepad from the inner pocket of his jacket. I unzipped my purse and took out mine as well.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” J.T. said.

  Larry began by telling us Corrine’s address and her parents’ names. “Joe and Claire Lionel came into the station on October twenty-ninth and filled out a missing persons report. They said Corrine had left home the prior morning to go to work. Later that night when she didn’t come home, they assumed she was at a friend’s house. They called her phone a number of times, but it always went to voicemail. They realized something was wrong when they received a phone call from her employer on her scheduled Saturday to work. The company asked if she was sick because she had never returned to work after lunch on Friday, and she hadn’t reported to work that next day.”

  I wrote as Larry talked. “Has anyone interviewed her employer?”

  “Yes, we did, as a matter of fact. She worked at a lumberyard. Left for lunch at noon on Friday—nothing unusual there—but never returned. Nobody from Lang’s Lumber has seen or talked to her since.” Larry stole a glance at Melanie. “And you know the final outcome of that.”

  “And her body was discovered when?”

  “December fourth, almost five weeks later,” Melanie said, “at a quarry near the city limits. Kids messing around in the area literally stumbled over her frozen body.”

  “A horrible impression, for sure, that will likely linger in the minds of those kids. And because her body was frozen, there wasn’t a way to know how long she had been dead?”

  Melanie shook her head. “No, ma’am. She could have been lying outside the entire time or in a freezer for a month for all we know.”

  “How far away was her house from where she was found?”

  Larry turned toward J.T. “Our notes say she was found nine miles from her home.”

  J.T. scratched his chin. “Yeah, that isn’t any help. How old was Corrine again?”

  Melanie checked her notes. “She was twenty-three, and yes, she still lived at home.”

  I added my two cents. “These days, many young adults live with their parents until they’re in their late twenties. I guess doing that is easier on everyone financially. So you’ve interviewed her family and employer. How about close friends?”

  “Give me just a second, please.” Larry scooted out his chair and grabbed the pitcher from the shelf at our backs. Then he disappeared around the corner. He returned to the table a minute later with a handful of plastic cups and a pitcher of cold water. “Sorry about that. Talking a lot gives me a dry throat, and being a smoker doesn’t help. Please, have some.” He filled four cups and handed them out.

  “Appreciate it.” I took a deep gulp. It did help. “Okay, as far as friends?”

  “Right.” Larry picked up w
here he’d left off. “We interviewed everyone in her close circle and came up with nothing out of the ordinary. I doubt if she would have confided with anyone at work about anything. The lumberyard employed mostly men. There was one other woman, quite a bit older than Corrine, though. Sorry, but we didn’t find anyone or anything sinister going on in her life.”

  Melanie looked deep in thought.

  “Melanie, is something bothering you?” J.T. asked.

  “Not bothering me, really, it’s just that Taylor’s story is identical to Corrine’s. Other than their physical differences and the places their bodies were found, the stories were the same. They had nothing unusual going on, no new boyfriend they spoke of, they both lived at home, and both disappeared after lunch. Her circle of friends and family said nothing unusual was happening in Taylor’s life, either.”

  “So we’ll hear the same story about Taylor that you just told us about Corrine?”

  Larry nodded and looked at Melanie. “Yeah, wouldn’t you agree, Mel?”

  “Unfortunately, I would.”

  I checked the dates in Taylor’s file and mentally calculated how long she’d been missing. “It looks like Taylor was found three and a half weeks after she was reported missing. She was discovered in an abandoned house in a rough neighborhood, and frozen, just like Corrine.”

  “That’s right, and we don’t think the dates the girls were discovered was important. We’re assuming the only reason Taylor was found sooner than Corrine was because that area was a known drug hangout. It had more foot traffic than the quarry did.”

  “The notes show Taylor was only nineteen. Did she work, or was she in school?”

  “She went to Ivy Tech for their dental assistant program. According to her family, she was quiet and studious, hung out with friends now and then, and didn’t date.”

  I took a deep breath. This case might be tougher than I had imagined. There didn’t seem to be any leads or a person who stood out as someone questionable. The killer was smart. The girls weren’t found near each other, they didn’t have friends in common, and they didn’t work together. This told us the killer didn’t have a particular person in mind. It seemed that opportunity mattered more than anything else. Only one thing stood out to me—the women’s age. All were relatively young, late teens to early twenties. That in and of itself could be a helpful clue. Our killer might be young as well, and the girls would likely feel more comfortable around somebody their own age. At that moment, it was all we had to go on. “Okay, let’s move on to Heather Francis. She was discovered yesterday but last seen by her parents when she left for work Friday morning?”