Donors

by C. M. Sutter

  “I spoke to her on the phone Friday as I was driving home from work. I wanted to meet with her, but she said she was going out to dinner with a friend. I wanted an answer about going out of town with me next week. She said she’d think about it and let me know, but I haven’t been able to get through to her. Maybe she found out I was married.”

  I wrote down what he said. “So, you’re saying Friday was the last time you spoke to her? Nothing since?”

  “That’s correct. My wife doesn’t need to find out about Molly, does she?”

  “Molly is missing, Mr. Carter. Did she threaten to expose you to your wife?”

  “What? Missing? No, nothing like that happened. She didn’t even know I was married.”

  “Have you ever been to the running trails with her?”

  “Never. I made sure to keep our meeting places discreet.”

  “And she never asked why?”

  “She probably had her suspicions since I felt her pulling away.”

  “And that pissed you off?” I asked.

  “No, it didn’t piss me off. I really like Molly. How long has she been missing?”

  I ignored his question. If he wasn’t involved, as he claimed, nothing about the case was his concern.

  “How tall are you, and how much do you weigh, Mitchell?” J.T. asked.

  “Why?”

  J.T. held his stare and waited.

  “I’m six foot two and weight two hundred pounds.”

  “Were you at work all day Monday?”

  He glared at me. “Of course I was.”

  “Can somebody corroborate that?”

  “Everyone that works here can.”

  “How about after work?” J.T. leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Where did you go?”

  Mitchell dabbed his forehead again. Sweat rolled down his hairline and settled in his sideburns. “Straight home, I swear.”

  “We’re going to ask your wife when you arrived home, and you better hope your stories match. Your extracurricular activities aren’t our concern, so if you need to explain something to her, that’s on you. What’s her cell number?” I asked.

  After a moment of hesitation, defeat written across his face, Mitchell rattled off the number.

  “Your wife’s name?”

  “Jody. Do you have to say why you’re asking?”

  “No, but don’t you think a wife would want to know why an FBI agent is asking where her husband was after work on Monday?”

  Mitchell buried his face in his hands and moaned.

  I stood. “I’ll be right back. Stay put.”

  J.T. gave me a nod. He wasn’t going to let Mitchell out of his sight.

  I pushed through the double glass doors and dialed Jody’s number as I stood in the vestibule. I was within eyeshot of Mitchell, who was facing my way. Jody and I spoke for two minutes. It wasn’t my responsibility to explain her husband’s infidelity. She confirmed that Mitchell was home by six p.m. on Monday, as he was most of the time except during overnight business trips. She said she remembered that time specifically because they watched the news together as they ate. I hung up from the call and reentered the lobby. Then I took my seat. “You’re off the hook for now, at least with us.”

  He responded sarcastically. “Gee, thanks.”

  “No problem.” I passed my card across the coffee table to him. “Don’t go far. We may want to speak to you again.” I closed my notepad and tucked it into the side pocket of my purse. “That should do it for now.” I tipped my head toward the door, and J.T. stood. We gave Mitchell a nod goodbye and left the building.

  Buckled in the car and heading back to the precinct, J.T. spoke up. “I guess Mitchell can go to the bottom of the suspect list. He’s guilty of being a cheater but probably nothing else.”

  I agreed.

  “Let’s have a quick dinner as long as we have the time,” J.T. said.

  “Pull in there.” I pointed at a nondescript diner at the corner of Williams and Drexel. “Soup and fries are enough for me.”

  J.T. parked in the ten-car lot, and we went inside. It wasn’t quite the dinner hour yet, so we had the place to ourselves. I figured soup and fries couldn’t take too long. I ordered a cup of coffee too.

  “I’ll have a BLT and fries,” J.T. said to the motherly looking waitress who stood at the end of our booth. She wore an apron tied around her midsection and a pencil wedged above her ear. A pair of teal glasses was perched on the bridge of her nose. Thanks to our easy-to-remember orders, she didn’t need to write them down.

  “Want me to bring out the coffees right away?” she asked.

  Her mannerisms reminded me of my own mom, and I smiled. “Yes, please.”

  It took only a half hour before we were back in the car and with full bellies. That dinner would likely hold us over until morning. I climbed in on the passenger side and pulled out my phone. The vibration signaled a call or text had recently come in. I tapped my password on the home screen and checked. Sullivan had sent me a text ten minutes ago. “Shit.”

  J.T. raised his right eyebrow as he pulled out of the parking lot and turned right. “That sounds daunting.”

  “It is. Two girls went out together last night, and neither has returned home or made contact with their families. We need to get back to the station and see what’s up.”

  Chapter 29

  “Are you comfortable, Mom?” Sam tucked the blanket around Adeline’s feet as she lay on the couch and watched TV. Concern for his mother filled his mind, but he tried not to show it. He turned his back and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Adeline’s color was off, and she appeared weaker each day. He didn’t understand why the transfusions hadn’t improved her anemia. A sallow color took over her face, and dark rings circled her eyes. Her infections were getting worse as time went on. Sam tried not to appear shocked when he noticed new problems—red sores erupting from her arms and legs.

  “I’m okay, honey, just a little weak today.”

  “Let me see your veins.” Sam held his mother’s frail arm. Her skin was paper thin, but her veins were barely noticeable. “You need more fluids. How about vitamin water or a bottle of that electrolyte drink?”

  “I’ll take the raspberry vitamin water.”

  “Sure thing.” Sam pushed off the couch and entered the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door, moved the three pints of new blood to the side, and grabbed a bottle of vitamin water. He cracked open the lid and stuck a straw in then returned to the living room. “Let me prop you up a little so you can drink this.”

  She groaned with every movement as he placed pillows behind her back. The cancer was spreading throughout her body. She was deteriorating fast.

  All she needs is more blood. Two transfusions a day will keep her alive. I’m taking another pint from each girl tomorrow.

  “Tonight you’re getting another transfusion. I need to dial in the right amount to keep you healthy, Mom. I don’t think you’re getting enough new blood.”

  “Are you sure, Sam? Taking too much from them and giving me more than you should doesn’t sound like a good idea. We may all die.”

  “Give me a little time to research this. Why not take a nap? I’m going to be on the computer for a bit, anyway.”

  “I will if you stay in the living room with me.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll bring the laptop out here.”

  Sam took notes as he searched the Internet. Two hours had passed, and the clock let out six deep chimes. Sam glanced at his mom, still fast asleep. He’d wake her soon and give her dinner and plenty of fluids. The Internet search did little to soothe his anxiety, but he really hadn’t expected it to. His mother needed more blood, that was all there was to it. And to support the household and the girls in the workroom with healthy food and drinks, he’d have to sell at least half the blood he was drawing from them. He couldn’t bring more women home. Three was already too many. One might have to die after all.

  Sam rubbed his pounding head. Worry had overt
aken his mind, and his headaches occurred more frequently. He tipped the aspirin bottle and shook out four tablets. He washed them down with the glass of tepid water that had been sitting on the end table for two hours.

  His thoughts turned to Molly. She had been with him the longest and had said she felt weaker. Since Monday, he had drawn three pints of blood from her, and her veins were collapsing. Pretty soon they would be all but gone. Molly had to die.

  Sam rose from the recliner and walked quietly out of the living room. A linen closet stood at the end of the hallway. He opened the louvered door and pulled out one queen-sized blue sheet and a white full-sized sheet. He’d drape them between Molly and the other girls so they couldn’t see what he was about to do. He remembered that a bucket of clothespins always sat on a shelf by the back door of the garage. Months ago, when Adeline was still healthy, she’d hang the wet laundry on the clothesline behind the house. Sam smiled at the memories of better days. Adeline had always loved the fresh scent of air-dried sheets.

  With the linens draped over his arm, he tiptoed through the laundry room and into the garage. He closed the door at his back. With the bucket of clothespins in hand, Sam unlocked the workroom and went inside. He flipped on the light, waking the women.

  Molly squinted. “What are you doing with that stuff?”

  “I’m sectioning off the room.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Sam took a length of rope and wove it through an eye hook against the wall. He stretched the rope across the room and threaded it through another eye hook. He pulled it tight then knotted it. With each sheet folded over the rope and secured with clothespins, he’d sectioned off the room perfectly. Molly couldn’t see Kristen and Bethany, and they couldn’t see her.

  Sam walked out and locked the door behind him then went back into the house to start dinner. He peeked around the living room corner, Adeline’s eyes were still closed.

  He opened the cabinet above the stove and pulled out the bottle of succinylcholine and a clean syringe. After dinner, Molly would get the needle, and he’d take her blood for the last time.

  Chapter 30

  When he saw us enter the hallway, Captain Sullivan waved to get our attention.

  J.T. opened the captain’s office door, and we stood against the framework. “Two more girls have gone missing?”

  The captain pushed back his heavy desk chair and got up. He jerked his head to the right when he reached us. “Meeting in the bull pen.” He jiggled his change in his pocket as he gave us a brief explanation while we walked. “Stone took the call from a Mrs. Kelly, and Mills took the call from a Mrs. Henry. They have the details.”

  We entered the bull pen and pulled a few vacant chairs into the aisle between Mills’s and Stone’s desks. Sullivan sat on the corner of Andrews’s desk and crossed his arms and legs. He pointed at Stone. “You go first.”

  “Yes, sir, I have the notes from the caller right here. A Mrs. Kelly called about a half hour ago. She said her daughter, Bethany, went to Paul’s Tap on the east side of town last night for ladies’ night and never returned home.”

  I nodded. “That makes sense. Tuesdays are ladies’ night at most bars.”

  Stone continued. “Anyway, I told the mom we couldn’t consider her daughter a missing person until twenty-four hours had passed. Under the circumstances, though, I got her contact number and said I’d call her back in an hour. That’s about the time Mills got a similar call. Turns out these girls are best friends and went out together last night for half-priced drinks. That’s when we informed Sullivan.”

  “Did the mothers do the usual? Call all the closest friends, check their daughters’ social media pages, their jobs, and so on? Didn’t the girls work?”

  “We didn’t ask all the details yet, Agent Monroe. I wanted to run this by you two and the captain before we alarm the parents any more than we already have.”

  “You did the right thing, Stone. Not a problem,” J.T. said. “Did either mom say if they went to Paul’s Tap and asked questions?”

  “We didn’t get that far.”

  I looked at Sullivan. “We’re ready to pursue this, Captain. What’s your take?”

  He stared at the ceiling as if he were counting tiles. “I agree. We need to move on this while it’s fresh.”

  “Oh, by the way”—I turned to Fitch—“Mitchell Carter isn’t our guy.” I saw the disappointment on her face. “He has black hair, and he stands six two and two hundred pounds. He said he hadn’t talked to Molly since last Friday. Let’s put him on the back burner for now and keep looking.”

  Captain Sullivan spoke up. “Okay, Andrews and Fitch, keep working the Molly Davis leads. Stone and Mills, follow up with the parents of the most recent missing girls.”

  I grabbed my jacket from the chair and put it on. “We’ll go to Paul’s Tap and ask questions. Text us the vehicle information for both girls. They did drive to the bar individually, correct?”

  “According to the initial notes we took, yes,” Stone said.

  J.T. and I were back in the cruiser minutes later with the directions to Paul’s Tap displayed across my cell phone screen. “From here it looks like a fifteen-minute drive.” I watched out the passenger window as we passed block after block of the most depressed areas of Gary. “This investigation is going nowhere, J.T. We need more details.”

  “We do have a description of sorts. A medium-sized guy that possibly has blond hair was seen kissing Molly at the trails. That much, we’re certain of. He has to be our number one suspect. With her car still on site, we know she didn’t leave there alone.”

  “Right, but we still need more than that. I’m thinking he’s in the same general age range as the girls. So far, we have Taylor Dorsey as the youngest, at nineteen, and Corrine Lionel and Molly Davis, the oldest, both at twenty-three. Other than these latest girls, has anyone checked to see if the ladies had any common friends, hobbies, clubs they belonged to, that sort of thing?”

  “Not sure, but call Sullivan and ask. With Corrine, Taylor, and Heather going missing months apart, they probably had no reason to connect them to each other. We’ll definitely start putting a profile together to work with, though. We need to know if there’s any current chatter going across the phone lines with Alex too. At this point, anything will help.”

  I dialed the captain’s office phone. He picked up right away. “Captain Sullivan, Jade here. We never asked if anyone had made a connection between the girls.”

  “We were working that angle with officers Jeffries and Christopher. They were checking the coffee shops around the university Taylor was a student at.”

  “Has anything popped? Did any employees recognize her picture?”

  “I’ll get back to you on that. It’s a long shot, Jade. Taylor went missing months ago.”

  “I know, sir, but there has to be a common thread somewhere. I’ll touch base after we talk to the employees at Paul’s Tap.”

  J.T. pulled into the pea-gravel parking lot and killed the engine. Three cars sat side by side, and two of them probably belonged to employees. We got out and scanned the area.

  “Wow—this place is dead.”

  “Nah, it’s just early, that’s all. The younger generation doesn’t go out until ten or later. That way they don’t have to spend so much money on drinks. They get started at home then enjoy the buzz once they’re at the bars.”

  “How do you know so much about the drinking habits of youth?”

  I shot J.T. a sideways grin. “Amber used to bartend, plus she’s young. I learned everything I know from her.”

  “That’s scary.”

  “Actually, it’s very helpful. I just taught you something new, didn’t I?”

  “Humph, I guess so, but still, wouldn’t kids worry about getting a DUI before they even get to the bar?”

  “Do kids worry about anything? That job belongs to their parents.”

  We took the four cement steps up to the front door. Inside, one person
sat cozied up to the bar, drinking a glass of beer. The bartender looked to be in his mid-twenties and wore a long brown ponytail and a goatee. He busied himself stocking the refrigerator with canned and bottled beer. He looked up and gave us a nod. J.T. and I seated ourselves at the opposite end of the bar.

  The bartender wiped his hands on a rag and walked over. “What can I get for you two?”

  “How about a couple of coffees and a side of information?” J.T. asked.

  I chuckled. He was clever and a fast thinker.

  “Sure, coming right up.”

  I watched as the bartender poured two cups from what looked to be a fresh pot of coffee. I was thankful for that. He set them in front of us with a couple of packaged sugars and creamers.

  “So what can I help you with?” He wiped the bar with his damp rag, probably out of habit. It looked perfectly clean the way it was.

  I thought it best to introduce ourselves and hoped he’d feel more obliged to be as truthful as possible. “My name is Jade Monroe, and this is my partner, J.T. Harper. We’re FBI agents, and we have a few questions we hope you can help us with.”

  He raised his brows. “I’ve never met FBI agents. You look like regular people.”

  I smiled. “We are regular people. Your name is?”

  “Jackson Clark.”

  “Nice name. My old commander at the Washburn County Sheriff’s Department in Wisconsin was a man by the name of Chuck Clark. Anyway, Jackson, were you tending bar last night?”

  “Tuesday night, most definitely. Actually, there were three of us tending bar. Ladies’ night, you know. This place really gets hopping after ten. What’s funny is, Tuesday brings in the masses, but come Wednesday night, it’s pretty dead here. Everyone stays home because they’re still nursing a major hangover. It’s like clockwork every week.”

  “So last night was packed?”

  “Jam-packed.”

  “Do you have regulars?”

  “Sure do. They’re the people we depend on most.” He topped off our coffees and placed a few more creamers on the bar.

  “Do you know Bethany Kelly and Kristen Henry?”