Donors

by C. M. Sutter

He grinned. “Who doesn’t? They’re here every Tuesday night. Bethany comes first and holds down the fort until Kristen gets off work.”

  “Kristen works nights?” J.T. pulled his notepad out of his inner pocket and wrote that down. “Do you know where?”

  “Yeah, at the movie theater by the mall.”

  I had no idea where that was, but it didn’t matter. Getting vital information from Jackson was more important. “Were they here last night?”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I saw them from a distance, but I didn’t wait on them. Jen worked the bar tables. I worked the bar along with Abe.”

  “Do you have any idea what they drive?”

  “Nah, never asked.”

  I looked around. “No cameras?”

  “Nope. The owner is still stuck in the seventies, when he used to frequent this place on his way home from work every night. He eventually bought the joint. He says there’s no crime in the area, so we don’t need that expensive crap.” He smiled. “His words, not mine.” Jackson knocked on the bar surface. “So far he’s been right. This is a local hangout, mostly kids in their twenties. Haven’t had any real problems, probably because it’s a low-key type of place. We’re kind of invisible to the outside world.”

  “Did you happen to see anyone sitting with Kristen and Bethany?”

  “Can’t say that I did, but Jen would be the person to ask.” He looked over his shoulder at the clock. “She gets in at nine.”

  “Thanks.” We had over an hour wait before Jen started her shift. “What do you want to do, J.T.?”

  He tossed six bucks on the bar for our coffees. “Check your phone and see if you got a message about those cars. Then let’s walk the neighborhood. Maybe somebody saw or heard something unusual last night.”

  We left the bar and crossed the lot to our cruiser. Inside, with the car on and the heater blowing, I checked my phone calls. A new message had come in twenty minutes earlier. I nodded at J.T., and he pulled out his notepad.

  “Stone says Kristen has a late-model white Honda Civic, and the plate number is 429-FNP. Bethany has an older blue four-door Subaru wagon, and the plate number is YYK-604. He and Mills are still conducting the interviews with the parents.”

  “Okay, ready to go out and do some knock and talks?”

  “Sure, I just wish it wasn’t twenty-five degrees outside.” I slipped my hands into what was the only thing in the cruiser that might help a little—a pair of latex gloves pulled from the box in the backseat. I pulled up my coat collar and zipped it as high as it would go. “Okay, I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Chapter 31

  Sam filled the dishwasher with the dinner plates and closed it. He couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. It was time to tend to Molly. He leaned over the couch back and patted his mother’s shoulder. “I’ll be back in a half hour, Mom. I have to check on the ladies.”

  He pushed the coffee table closer to the couch so Adeline wouldn’t have to reach for anything. With his mother temporarily situated, Sam passed through the laundry room and entered the garage, where he loaded the syringe with succinylcholine. The sterile jugs, needles, and tubes used for blood draining sat to his right. He’d take them into the workroom after he injected Molly. By that time it would be too late for her to tense up. She’d be paralyzed long enough for him to get the job done. With Molly unable to react, his job would go much smoother.

  Sam fished the key to the workroom out of his front pants pocket and unlocked the door. He crossed the room and stood next to her.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. “Can I get up?”

  “Sure, I’ll give you a hand.” Sam released the straps across her chest. “Sit up and get your bearings for a minute so you won’t be dizzy.” He thumbed the syringe in his pocket, popped off the cover, then walked around to her left side. “I’ll hold you upright.”

  “Thank you.” She sat up slowly.

  With the syringe cupped in his right hand, Sam jammed it into the back of her neck and pressed the plunger until it wouldn’t go any farther. The succinylcholine was released into her muscle and began to take effect within seconds. He pushed her back down and ran out to get the equipment he needed. He’d have to drain her blood fast before she died of asphyxia. With a needle and drain tube placed in her carotid artery and one in her femoral artery, the blood flowed into the jugs beneath the gurney.

  “Sorry, Molly, but this is something I have to do. It isn’t personal. I promise it will be over soon.” Sam heard moaning from the other side of the draped sheets. He was certain Kristen and Bethany had heard what he’d said. He checked the jugs to make sure they were still filling then walked around the makeshift room divider. “Is there something you ladies need?”

  When Kristen nodded, Sam pulled the tape off her mouth.

  She screamed Molly’s name and was quickly silenced with a violent slap across the face.

  “We use our indoor voices here. The sooner you realize that, the sooner I may let you go without the tape. Got it? That goes for both of you.” He gave Bethany a threatening glare.

  “What did you do to her? Why isn’t she responding?” Kristen asked.

  “That isn’t your concern.” He placed the tape back over Kristen’s mouth and dipped under the wall of sheets. “I’ll get your dinners.” Sam checked his watch. Ten minutes had passed, and Molly was likely nearing death. Quickly glancing at the jugs before exiting the room, he saw they were almost half full. He’d bring food back for the girls and, afterward, remove Molly’s tubes. He needed to think of a place to dump her—somewhere remote where she wouldn’t be found.

  Chapter 32

  J.T. pulled the cruiser out of Paul’s parking lot and turned onto the first street to our left. He parked against the curb at the beginning of the street, and we got out.

  “Have a preference, left side or right?” he asked.

  I tipped my head. “I’ll take the right. I like the houses over here better.”

  “It’s dark outside. How can you see them?”

  “Okay, you busted me. I’m right brained, right handed, and I sat in the passenger seat, which is on the right side of the car. I just like the right side of things.”

  “Good enough. If anyone has something to tell you, call me over. I’ll do the same.”

  We parted ways. I headed up the sidewalk to the houses on the right, and J.T. crossed the street to the houses on the left.

  I knew that each of us would begin the process in the same way. We’d introduce ourselves, show our badges, and cut to the chase. We wanted to cover a few blocks as quickly as possible. The night was cold, and we wanted to speak with the bartender named Jen as soon as her shift began.

  The first few residents offered nothing. They neither heard nor saw anything. At that time of night, they were sound asleep. The owner at house number two said his dog was barking like crazy in the middle of the night.

  I pulled out my notepad. “Sir, do you remember exactly what time that was?”

  He scratched the top of his head as if that would ring a bell. “Well, Pearl normally sleeps soundly, so when she did bark, it startled me. I sat up in bed and listened, just to make sure nobody had broken into the house. The clock showed it was after three a.m.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I got up and double-checked every door lock. I even peered out the window but didn’t see anything. I chalked it up to the bar being around the corner. Pearl curled up and went back to sleep, and I went back to bed.”

  I wrote down his statement, name, and house number and thanked him for his time. I gave him my card and continued on.

  J.T. yelled from across the street. “Anything?”

  I followed the driveway down to the sidewalk. “Nothing that will matter, only a dog barking at bar time. How about you?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  The street we were on was laid out in an east-to-west fashion and had six houses on each side before it intersected with a north-to-south
street. It was a simple grid of square blocks, nothing complicated other than the amount of time it would take and how far we wanted to expand our knock and talks. We reached the end of that block and met on my side of the street.

  “Now what?” I asked as I jammed my nearly frozen fingers deep into my pockets.

  J.T. panned the area. “Let’s go up one more block and head west. By the time we finish there, Jen will probably be at the bar.”

  “Yeah, makes sense. Same sides?”

  “Sure.” He gave me an eye roll. “Don’t want to screw with your right-side OCD issues.”

  I could do six more houses. If nothing popped, we’d have patrol expand the search tomorrow. By the time we finished the next six houses—probably nine thirty or so—people would be less likely to answer their doors, anyway. We continued on.

  I walked up the sidewalk of house number three. The house was well lit. Through the picture window, I saw the reflection of the television playing. At least somebody was near the front door and would hopefully answer quickly. Other homeowners had peeked out the side window, then again through the sidelights, and finally turned on the porch light before asking who was there. My badge was already positioned between my stiffened fingers and held at eye level. I rang the bell. A gray-haired gentleman pulled the curtains to the side. I turned toward him, flashed my badge, and smiled through my shivers.

  He immediately pulled the wooden door open and pushed the screen door forward. He wore only jeans and a white T-shirt. I was sure the conversation would last about ten seconds before he felt the night chill too.

  “Please, come in. It’s way too cold to be standing out on my porch, plus I don’t want the heat to escape. What can I do for you?”

  I introduced myself and told him why J.T. and I were canvassing the neighborhood.

  “Please, Agent Monroe, have a seat. I may have something helpful.”

  “Would you mind if I call my partner in to join me first?”

  “Nope, go ahead.”

  I dialed J.T. and told him I was in the well-lit house and the homeowner might have information for us. He said he was two houses ahead of me but would be there in less than a minute. I hung up. “Thank you, sir. He’ll be right here. Your name is?”

  “Jeff Simmons. I used to be a dispatch officer at the Merrillville Police Department, but I retired last year. Enough is enough, you know? I put in nineteen years with that department.”

  “We certainly appreciate your service, and I’m sure the state of Indiana did too.”

  A knock sounded at the door. Jeff pushed off the chair he sat on and crossed the room. “I guess your partner found the place.” He pulled the door open after a quick peek through the peephole. “Can never be too careful.”

  “Absolutely.”

  I introduced J.T., and with a hearty handshake between the men, J.T. took a seat next to me.

  “Now, what can you tell us, Jeff?” I asked.

  “Well, you said you were looking for anything that seemed off about last night.”

  “That’s correct.” I noticed J.T. had already pulled out his notepad. I appreciated it since my fingers weren’t quite thawed yet.

  “This was around bar time, definitely after three a.m. I’m sure you notice that I keep my house well-lit.”

  “Indeed, and a good way to ward off would-be burglars.”

  “Yep, I was robbed at gunpoint last year, and I don’t want to experience that again. I’m saving for wrought-iron window bars and a door gate. It’s a shame what this town is becoming. Anyway, once I turn in at night, I keep the coach lights and the porch lights on. There’s a light above my back door, but it doesn’t do much. After that incident last year, I installed motion sensor lights in my backyard. I got the expensive kind that won’t trigger whenever a raccoon crosses the yard or a gust of wind rattles a tree. It has to be something big, like a human, to trigger the light. Anyway, the light woke me last night. My bedroom window faces the backyard, and I keep the blinds open just in case something unusual occurs.” He took a breath and waited as J.T. jotted down his notes.

  “Go on, please.”

  “Sure. Anyway, the light went on last night, and I jumped out of bed. I keep my old service weapon in my nightstand in case I ever have a need to use it. I looked out the glass and saw a man running through my yard. He cut through several yards and disappeared.”

  J.T. looked up from his notepad. “Which way was he going?”

  “Toward Paul’s Tap.”

  “Toward the bar?” I raised a questioning brow.

  “Yes, ma’am. He was running from the east and heading through the backyards in a west-to-northwest direction. I ran to my front window and saw him cross the street and continue through the yards at Kinder Street.”

  “That’s the next street north, right?” I pointed toward Jeff’s front door.

  “That’s correct.”

  I looked at J.T. “We just cleared that street, but in the middle of the night with people that sleep soundly, I understand how they wouldn’t realize someone had run through their yards.”

  “You did say a homeowner told you their dog was barking around bar time.”

  “I sure did.” I pulled out my notepad and checked the house number. “Jeff, what is the house number here?”

  “Two-two-eight Fillmore.”

  “And Mr. Lowell’s house number is two-two-six Kinder.” I looked up. “Do you know Mr. Lowell?”

  “Sure do. Matt has lived there for sixteen years, and if Pearl barked in the middle of the night, something definitely caught her attention.”

  “I know it’s a long shot, but did you see the person well enough to give us something?”

  “Those motion sensor lights work pretty well. Granted, I saw the guy for maybe four seconds, but I did catch a few things. I could tell by his gait he was in a rush, almost frantic. I figured he was somewhat young by the baggy jeans. He wore a dark puffy jacket, probably goose down, and he had medium-length blond hair.”

  “Was it light blond or dishwater blond?” J.T. asked.

  Jeff rubbed his chin. “I’d say medium blond. I’d put him at five ten or so. He easily ran under the lowest limb of my Crimson King Maple, and that’s about six and a half feet off the ground. He had an average build from what I could tell. But with those baggy jeans and puffy coat, I could be off in either direction.”

  “You’re pretty observant, Jeff. This is really good information.”

  He waved me off. “Comes with the territory after all those years in the police force. You know how it goes—second nature.”

  I smiled and understood. “So the man could have been coming from the block behind your home, cutting through yards, and traveling toward the street Paul’s Tap is on?”

  “That’s correct, Agent Harper. Paul’s is three blocks northwest of me on Jacobsen Street, the exact direction he was traveling.”

  I stood, warmed and comfortable. The information we had was enough for now, and we’d take a slow drive on the street behind us. There was a reason our assailant came from that direction. I gave Jeff my card and thanked him with a hearty handshake. J.T. did the same. Jeff told us to stay warm and stay safe as he closed the door.

  J.T. jerked his head in the direction of the cruiser. “Let’s get the car and check out a few of the streets behind us.”

  I pulled out my phone from my pocket and listened to Stone’s message again. “Okay, we’re going to have our eyes peeled for a white Civic or a blue Subie wagon.”

  “Got it.”

  We rounded the block and headed to the end of the street. We’d be back in the cruiser in under two minutes with the heat blowing at max force. My shoulders hurt from involuntarily hunching them as we walked.

  “You know what every cruiser needs in winter?” I asked.

  J.T. curled his lip until a grin formed. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “Damn straight—remote starts with the heat already set on high. That would be pure heaven.”
>
  “Come on, crybaby. We’re almost there.”

  Chapter 33

  Back in the cruiser, I stretched the seat belt over my coat, and J.T. turned the heater to the highest setting. I dialed Sullivan while we had a minute to spare. He answered on the second ring.

  “Captain Sullivan here.”

  “Sir, it’s Jade. We have a lead that’s frankly the best we’ve gotten yet. A former police dispatch officer gave us a decent description of someone who ran through his yard last night at bar time. It matches the description given by Erin McNare—same height, build, and hair color.”

  “Great find. So what are you doing now?”

  “We’re going to patrol a few streets where the runner may have come from and see if anything shakes loose. Has anyone talked to Molly Davis’s friend, Maddie Trapp? I just don’t want anything overlooked.”

  “I’m pretty sure Andrews and Fitch are on that right now. There was something about a place called Penelope’s too?”

  “Yes, that’s one of those new crossover coffee shops.”

  “That’s right. They’re going to stop in there too.”

  “Okay, we’ll keep you posted.” I clicked off and pocketed my phone.

  J.T. looked up at the street sign. “This is Mayville Street.” He pulled over and glanced through the backseat window behind my shoulder. “If the runner went through Jeff’s yard at an angle going west to northwest, he had to be coming from that direction.” J.T. pointed to his left and turned on Mayville. “Keep your eyes locked on the right side of the street. I’ll watch the left.”

  J.T. drove at a snail’s pace down the block. Neither of us spoke as we checked every parked car we passed at the curbs and in the driveways. He was near the end of the street. We’d have to make a decision to either go farther or turn and go south another block.

  “Stop!” I yelled so loud we both jumped.

  “Geez, Jade, you scared the crap out of me.”

  “Sorry, but there’s a white Civic parked up ahead on my side. What was the plate number again?”

  J.T. clicked on the dome light and pulled out his notepad. He handed it to me as he closed in on the vehicle.