Donors

by C. M. Sutter

  He watched as Bethany and Kristen sipped the Laphroaig.

  “Whoa, this is different but good. Yeah, I’m a fan,” Kristen said. “Thanks, Sam. You’re a real gentleman.”

  He smiled. “You aren’t sisters, are you?”

  Bethany rolled her eyes. “No. Do you actually think we look alike?”

  “Nah, just making conversation. Did you drive here together tonight?”

  “Nope,” Kristen said. “I came here from work. Bethany got here earlier to save a table. Can’t you tell? She’s already three sheets to the wind.”

  Bethany flipped her hair smugly with the back of her hand. “I am not. I’m only two sheets in. I have a full sheet to go.”

  “How are you doing with the drinks?” Sam glanced at his watch. “There’s still time for one more.”

  “I’m good, but I’m suddenly really warm,” Bethany said. “I feel flushed.”

  “Yeah, it’s the booze, and your face is bright red,” Kristen said.

  Bethany pushed back her stool and almost fell off. “Maybe I should go.”

  Sam frowned as he steadied her. “It doesn’t seem like you’re in the best shape to drive. I’ll give you a lift home.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Sure, what are friends for?”

  “I have an idea,” Kristen said. “You drive Bethany to her house in her car, and I’ll follow you. Then I’ll drive you back here to your car. We’ll all get home safely that way.”

  “That’s a great idea. Are you ladies ready to go?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah, but can you help me walk?” Bethany cradled her head between her hands. “The room is suddenly spinning.”

  “Don’t worry,” Sam said. “I’ve got you.”

  Chapter 22

  With Sam on one side of Bethany and Kristen on the other, they helped her across the parking lot to the passenger side of her car. The cold night air hit them all in the face. By now, Kristen wasn’t much help. The Rohypnol had begun to affect her too. Sam scanned his surroundings as they neared Bethany’s car. The parking lot, packed with vehicles, was dead quiet. The bar’s patrons were still inside chugging down their last drinks of the night. Maybe it wouldn’t be hard grabbing both girls after all.

  They propped Bethany against the car door as Kristen dug through Bethany’s purse to locate her keys. Sam’s mind was in overdrive. He’d unlock the car, Kristen would help Bethany in, and then he would strike. He’d knock Kristen out, toss her in the backseat, and quickly leave, but he wouldn’t go far. His van and Kristen’s car couldn’t be left behind. The last thing he wanted was to raise suspicion. He needed to act before people began spilling out of the bar.

  With Bethany’s car keys in hand, Kristen clicked the fob. The door locks popped up. Sam pulled the door open, and Bethany nearly fell inside.

  “Get that seat belt around her,” he said as he kept a watchful eye on the front door of Paul’s Tap.

  Kristen fumbled far too long. Sam grasped the back of her neck and smashed her head against the doorframe, knocking her out cold. With his arm around her waist, he opened the back door and tossed her in. He had to move the van and her car several blocks away so they couldn’t be seen from the Paul’s Tap parking lot. It would take only a minute. With both girls fastened in with seat belts and unconscious, he rummaged through Kristen’s purse and found her keys. He clicked the fob twice and saw headlights blink four cars away.

  Not too bad. This is doable.

  After a double-check of both girls, still lying silently, Sam ran to Kristen’s car and climbed in behind the wheel. He sped out of the parking lot and drove three blocks south, turned left, and parked along the curb near the next intersection. Instead of returning along the street, he realized that cutting across lawns was faster. At that time of night, most homeowners were asleep, anyway. Sam climbed into his van, drove to the same street, but turned right that time. He parked the van halfway up the street. The cold air he sucked in made him ache, and his lungs burned like fire as he ran for the last time back to Paul’s Tap. People had just begun exiting the building. The timing couldn’t have been better. He opened the driver’s side door of Bethany’s car and drove away with two girls added to his donor list.

  He calculated the driving distance and time it would take to make several back-and-forth trips from car to house, along with the time he needed in order to secure both women. It would be daybreak before he’d be able to sleep for a few hours.

  When he pulled into his driveway a half hour later, Sam slammed his open hand against the steering wheel. The garage door remote was in the van. Just one more delay before he could get everything accomplished. He shifted into Park and looked over his shoulder at Kristen. He killed the engine. With Bethany’s car keys tucked in his left hand, he pulled his own keys out of his pants pocket and ran up the sidewalk. He slid the key into the front doorknob and turned it to his right. Quietly, he tiptoed through the house so he wouldn’t wake Adeline and entered the garage. He slapped at the wall until he made contact with the button. He pressed it, and the overhead lifted. Back in the driver’s seat, Sam pulled Bethany’s car in, got out, and closed the garage door. He didn’t have time for finesse. As long as the girls were secure for the moment, he’d worry about the details tomorrow. He dragged Kristen to the back room, unlocked the door, and continued on to one of the chairs. He propped her up in it. Molly woke and began crying.

  “Shut up or I’ll shut you up permanently,” he yelled.

  She went quiet. Sam secured a length of rope around the right chair leg, then five times around Kristen’s body and, finally, around the opposite chair leg before he knotted the ends together. He noticed a cut on Kristen’s head that must have come when he smashed her into the doorframe of Bethany’s car. He shrugged it off—she’d have other things to worry about once she regained consciousness. Sam tore duct tape off the roll and placed it over Kristen’s mouth. He wound a length of tape around each of her hands and legs. He ran back and heaved Bethany out of the car. He dragged her to the back room and repeated the process. Now he’d return Bethany’s car to the area where he’d abducted the girls, but he’d leave it on a different block. He was careful to wear gloves at all times except when in his own house. That was one less thing to worry about—wiping prints off the cars.

  Thirty minutes later, with Bethany’s car parked against a random street curb and her wallet emptied of cash, Sam ran to Kristen’s car. He moved it several blocks farther from Paul’s Tap, emptied the contents of her wallet too, and threw both sets of keys in a gutter drain. He returned to his van. After he climbed in, he took a deep breath. He sat and thought for a minute, not wanting to overlook anything. With a clear head and cash in his pocket, he checked his surroundings then pulled out onto the street. The clock showed it was four forty-five a.m.

  Chapter 23

  I texted an update to Amber as J.T. drove to our new favorite breakfast restaurant—Flapjacks, the pancake house down the street from our hotel. That morning I again ordered the four-stack breakfast, which included bacon, but this time the cakes were buckwheat with pecans. As always, real maple syrup sat on the table.

  I asked for the carafe of coffee to be left with us and filled both our cups as J.T. read over his notes. “What’s on our agenda today?” I took a sip of the rich coffee as he spoke.

  “We need to interview Molly’s family ourselves. Remember, we wanted to find out if they knew what she was wearing when she went running, using the process of eliminating what was missing from her room.”

  “That’s right, I remember now. We also need to go over any promising calls that might have come in on the tip line and see what the officers found out about Heather’s car, if anything. They were supposed to do more knock and talks too, right?”

  “Yeah, but I think the majority of that was going to happen today,” J.T. said. He took a bite of his pancakes and rolled his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It tastes like heaven,
and all these years, I’ve settled for a bagel every morning.”

  I grinned and stuck a piece of bacon in his face. “Here, eat this and see what heaven is really like. Keep hanging with me, and I promise you, you’ll be enjoying deliriously good breakfasts a lot more often.”

  He patted his stomach. “True, but I don’t want this to expand. I’ve seen what heavy meals can do to a guy’s midsection, and it’s disgusting.”

  “Well, speaking as a woman, I love pancakes and bacon, and Amber is a spectacular cook, yet I remain svelte.”

  “Yeah, yeah, high metabolism, that’s all. Anyway, chow down. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

  We reached the police department at eight thirty. Sullivan sat in the conference room alone and looked to be reviewing his stack of notes. From the sagging bags under his eyes, it was obvious he hadn’t gotten much sleep. I was sure these deaths, as well as Molly Davis going missing, weighed heavily on his mind.

  “Captain,” I said with a nod as J.T. and I entered the room. “Anything new since last night?”

  “I sure as hell hope not. Stone is collecting the tip line updates, and we’ll give those a look when he gets in.” He checked his watch and glanced at the hallway beyond the glass wall. “The group should be here any minute.”

  J.T. and I took seats facing the hallway and waited. I jotted down what we’d be doing that day in order of importance. Footsteps sounded, and we looked up through the glass wall. Fitch and Andrews led the group, and Stone, Mills, Jeffries, and Christopher took up the rear. Fitch pushed the half-open door and entered. One by one, they said good morning and took a seat.

  Sullivan pressed his fist against his mouth and cleared his throat. He poured water into a plastic cup from the pitcher on the table. “Okay, people, are you ready to get this day started?”

  Papers shuffled as we prepared to take notes. We all said yes.

  “Anything on the tip line, Stone?” Sullivan tapped his pen against the table, clearly ready to write.

  “The usual, sir. Fourteen calls came in through the night, but most were after the ten o’clock news. I guess Molly has one of those faces, you know? Nothing very distinctive about her features, and she doesn’t have any obvious tattoos that someone would notice. You’d think the red hair would definitely ring a bell, but the leads were all over the board. One person saw her at a house party in Indianapolis. Another swore they saw her shopping on Michigan Avenue yesterday.”

  I spoke up. “Yeah, those types of leads will spread your workforce too thin. We need something specific. If she disappeared from the trails, which it seems she did since her car was left behind, wouldn’t she still be wearing her running outfit, or would the kidnapper have her put in something different?” I glanced at J.T. “Maybe we could save time with just a phone call since Molly’s parents were already interviewed in person.”

  “I’d say go for it. We could put our legwork to better use.”

  “Do you guys mind if I do that right now?” I looked from face to face.

  Sullivan swiped the air. “Not at all, go ahead.”

  “Okay, here we go. I’ll put the call on speakerphone.”

  We listened as the phone at the Davis home rang several times. A click sounded and then a voice. It was Mrs. Davis answering.

  “Hello.”

  “Mrs. Davis, this is FBI Agent Jade Monroe calling, ma’am. I know we haven’t been formally introduced, but time is of the essence in your daughter’s case.” I placed my phone in the center of the table and set it to the highest volume. “Oh, and by the way, I have you on speakerphone. I’m at the police station with my partner, Captain Sullivan, and the detectives and officers you and your husband spoke with Monday evening.”

  “Yes, of course. Do you have news about Molly?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but not yet. The reason I’m calling may sound unusual to you, but it’s actually very important.” I paused for a moment.

  “Yes, go ahead.”

  “I know you mentioned that you didn’t see Molly leave the house on Monday, but knowing what she was wearing could ring a bell with someone. Since we don’t have the exact time she was at the trails and we don’t know who else was in the area at that time, her outfit could be very helpful to us. We’ll include that information with the news broadcasts that air several times a day. It could produce leads, ma’am.”

  “But I—”

  I interrupted. It sounded as though she was becoming upset. “I realize you don’t know what she wore that day, but you could see what’s not in her bedroom anymore, correct?”

  “Yes, I could do that. It just didn’t occur to me before. Oh no, we’ve wasted precious time.” She trailed off, but I needed her to focus.

  “That’s okay, Mrs. Davis. It isn’t your job to think like a cop. What I want you to do is go into Molly’s room. Look through her running clothes in the drawers, closet, or wherever she kept that type of stuff. Think hard and call me back in fifteen minutes at this same number. Do your best to remember her outfits. Whatever isn’t there is likely what she wore on Monday.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that immediately and get right back to you.”

  I hung up and checked that off my to-do list. “Hopefully that will help stir somebody’s memory. What else do we have?”

  “We made additional calls yesterday about Heather’s car,” Stone said. “This time we contacted every precinct and sheriff’s department in the state. Nobody has received a report about an abandoned car fitting that description.”

  Sullivan spoke up. “That means it’s time to hit the freeway plate readers and the tollbooth cameras. Let’s start with Illinois first and then Michigan just because they’re the nearest states. Get that done today and go back to Friday after five p.m.”

  Stone wrote that down. “Yes, Captain.”

  “Is the tracker set up on Alex’s phone?”

  Fitch responded. “We should have the okay by noon, sir.”

  “Good enough. Okay, today is about revisiting the parks and expanding our neighborhood knock and talks.”

  “We’ll pitch in on that, Captain,” J.T. said. “It doesn’t sound like Molly’s employer has been interviewed yet. Is that correct?”

  “Not yet,” Andrews said. “That was on the list for today as well.”

  “We’ll take care of it. I think the neighbors of the girls need to be spoken to again. Taylor Dorsey was in college. There should be a faculty person that can shed some light on her activities or school friends. Parents don’t know everyone their children hang out with, especially if they’re only acquaintances are from work or school.”

  “But it’s been months in Taylor’s case,” Fitch said.

  “That’s true, but expand your horizons a bit beyond the school personnel. The college must be near food joints or coffee shops where students hang out. Take her picture along to the neighborhood eateries. See if anyone recognizes her,” J.T. said. “If she was a regular at any place like that, there’s a good chance they’ll remember her and anyone that joined her there.”

  My phone, still sitting in the center of the table, rang. I pulled it toward me. “It’s Mrs. Davis. I hope she has something for us.” I answered and tapped the speakerphone icon. “Hello, Mrs. Davis. Did you come up with anything?”

  “I did, and I know if anyone saw Molly, it will ring a bell. Her purple running suit is missing. The zipper jacket and stretchy pants matched, and they’re both gone.”

  I took a deep breath and tipped my head at J.T. We were getting somewhere. Captain Sullivan wrote as she spoke.

  “We need a good description of that running suit, ma’am,” J.T. said.

  “She just bought it three months ago. Like I said, it was purple, and it had a lime-green-and-black stripe that ran down the sleeves of the jacket and the sides of the pant legs. I teased her about the mismatched colors, but she liked the lime-green stripe because it went with her favorite running shoes.”

  “Her shoes?”

  “Oh my God, thos
e shoes were so bright. Hang on a second. I didn’t check her closet floor.”

  We heard footsteps and then what sounded like a door opening.

  “Agent Monroe, I just opened her closet and looked down. Her lime-green running shoes are gone.”

  “Okay, that’s a huge help, Mrs. Davis. Do you know if there are pictures of those items anywhere?”

  “I don’t think so, Agent Monroe.”

  “Sure, not a problem. Was the running suit light purple or deep purple?”

  “Definitely a deep purple.”

  “Okay, we’re going to get that information on the noon news. I hope it sparks new leads. Thank you, ma’am, and if you think of anything else, please call me back.” I hung up. “That information could be the help we need. I’m calling the news stations right away.”

  “Okay”—Sullivan pushed back his chair and stood—“let’s get to work.”

  Chapter 24

  A noise sounded against the wall opposite his bed. It came from his mother’s room.

  “Sam, are you awake?”

  He stirred, rolled over, and lifted his head and checked the time—9:10 a.m. “Shit, I didn’t plan to sleep this long.” He yelled out, “I’m awake now. Give me ten minutes, Mom.”

  Sam threw the blankets back, slipped quietly out of his room while pulling a T-shirt over his head, and took the hall to the bathroom two doors down. He’d shower later. A quick splash of cold water to wake up would have to do.

  He knocked on Adeline’s bedroom door. “Sorry, Mom. I had a late night. Can I come in?”

  “Sure, it’s okay.”

  He entered her room and turned the wand on the blinds. “The sun is out today. Let me help you up.”

  Sam pushed the wheelchair to the side of the bed as Adeline slid over the best she could. He reached under her armpits and lifted her to the chair. Then he knelt and opened the footrests. He noticed how she felt lighter every time he lifted her. “Comfortable?”