by Robin Mahle
It was almost eight o’clock before they made it back to his place. He set the bag of take-out Chinese on the breakfast table and dished out their plates. Katie went to the front window and looked down at the street. “Aren’t they supposed to be sending a car to patrol the area?”
“Don’t worry, Kate. We’ve got plenty of eyes watching out for us. You forget we’re in the Gaslamp. Lots of tourists and activity. I think we’re pretty safe,” Marshall said.
She released the curtain and sat back down. “Right.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m still pretty freaked out by the email. I didn’t mention this to you, but I asked my mom if I had been wearing any jewelry when I went missing.”
“His treasures?” Marshall asked.
She grunted. “She thought I had on a bracelet my grandmother gave me for my birthday earlier that year. Apparently, I never took it off, but the problem is, she can’t remember if I was wearing it when I came home.”
“And you’re wondering if he has it?”
“No. He said he wanted it back. Makes me think I was still wearing it when they found me.”
“So, we figure he collects jewelry from his victims. That would explain the necklace you remembered seeing in the room.”
“Yeah. I wonder how many of the kids he took were wearing some sort of jewelry.”
“These are the things we need to be looking at. That’s where I think that ViCAP program is going to help out a lot. You might have just found us a solid connection.”
“Detective Avery, Ms. Reid, I’d like you to meet Detective Phil Larson from the Portland PD.” Scarborough initiated the introductions.
The fact that it was Saturday morning and early at that, meant nothing to these very dedicated people. Katie wondered what their families must sacrifice on a daily basis for such devotion.
“Nice to meet you, Detective Larson,” she said, extending her hand.
A simple nod and a firm handshake from Marshall were all the introductory niceties he generally ever granted anyone.
“Okay, let’s get started.” Agent Scarborough started up the laptop that triggered the monitor on the wall to come to life.
Katie looked at the picture of the missing girl from Portland, Angela Richards, as it came into focus on the big screen. It must have been the start of a slide show because another picture appeared a few seconds later of the girl’s skeletal remains, partially exposed above the ground. The next image revealed the rotted flesh that remained on an otherwise severely decomposed body, the soil having been brushed away. These were obviously pictures of the original crime scene; a sight Katie had not expected to see. The next picture showed the girl’s entire body lying in a shallow grave. The maggots left only patches of her young, fair skin; her wounds, still evident. Katie had to turn away from what she saw next.
The men all around her were speaking of this little girl as if she was something to be analyzed for evidence, describing her “lacerations” and “blunt force trauma.” The stab wound to her lower abdomen. Katie couldn’t listen to it any more. Everything she feared was staring at her in the face and no one else seemed to be bothered by it. This poor girl was no longer a child, but an object to be debated with a casualness that repulsed her.
She launched from her seat and practically sprinted from the room, not wanting them to see her breakdown.
Katie made it to the patio and slumped down on the stone bench, nearly hyperventilating and drenched in tears. Never before had she seen such brutality and certainly not against a child. Even her job didn’t expose her to such horrendous scenes. Sure, she had opportunities to look at crime scene photos, but given her past experiences, had little interest in the ones involving murders. Marshall seemed to be used to it, at least he was behaving as such.
“Kate?” Marshall appeared moments later, obviously having excused himself soon after her sudden departure. I’m sorry, I didn’t think about…” He sat beside her and pulled her close.
She cried into his chest. His heart beat fast against her cheek and his breath felt warm on the top of her head. Marshall stroked her long, silky dark hair and let her cry.
Katie slowly breathed in the musky cologne that lingered on his shirt as she began to calm her anxiety. When her tears dried, she looked up at him, staring into his soulful green eyes. They were breathing each other’s breath now. Their lips were so close, neither one dared to pull away this time. He pressed fervently against her mouth.
The kiss was the culmination of too many months of sharing a painful past and fearing an unknown future.
Marshall gently leaned back, but only a little. “I should have warned you about the photos and I’m sorry. Do you want to sit the rest of this out?”
“No. I’ll be all right. I just need a minute to pull myself together. I’m sure everyone in there must think I’m a hopeless wreck.”
“No one thinks that, Kate. Agent Scarborough apologized to me for not preparing you first. They all know what you’ve been through, including Detective Larson. They’re just used to seeing this sort of stuff. They know how to handle it.”
“But it was like they saw her as something to be studied, not the human being that she was.”
“It has to be that way. They’ve got families, kids. They know not to take it home, or take it personally. It’s just the way you’ve got to be in this line of work.”
“I know. I just wasn’t prepared and I’m sorry for running out like that.”
“Don’t be. You can re-join us when you’re ready.” He squeezed her tightly, saying nothing of the kiss.
Her feelings for Marshall were difficult to define. She leaned on him for support, but did she really want it to turn into more? It was a complication that she was not prepared to face and certainly not when a killer was after her.
Katie opened the door to the conference room after regaining her composure. No one made a big deal about her disappearing act and only acknowledged her presence with a nod of approval and continued on.
“Ms. Reid, Detective Avery filled us in on your theory regarding the possible victims’ wearing a piece of jewelry the unsub takes for his collection.”
“Yes, Agent Scarborough.” She figured as long as he was going to call her Ms. Reid, she’d take to calling him Agent Scarborough. “Based on the email we believe to be from my captor, he references the returning of the ‘trinket’ that I supposedly took from him, or rather, kept from him. If you’ll recall from the files my therapist sent over, I mentioned seeing a necklace in one of my flashbacks. I believe it was the necklace of the girl from Arcata—Ashley. It was difficult to be sure. As Chief Wilson pointed out when the memory surfaced, I had seen a picture of her prior to the flashback and it could’ve just as easily been a memory of that first photo. But after receiving the email from him the other day, I questioned my mother if I had on any jewelry. A bracelet, she recalled, but had no idea whether or not I wore it when I was found. Last we spoke, she was going to search for it.”
“But we don’t know if she has found anything yet?” Detective Larson asked.
“No.”
“I would venture to say that this is a fairly significant discovery, Ms. Reid. If we can determine the other missing children were wearing something similar, well, I think that’s a pretty good connection,” Agent Scarborough continued. “We have enough right now to at least enter that marker into ViCAP and see if we get any more hits. We’re also going to need to speak with the parents of the other suspected victims; ask them about any jewelry.”
“You sure we want to get more people involved in this?” Chief Wilson asked, although his tone was much less confrontational than the other day.
“Respectfully, Chief, this guy’s picture is being broadcast throughout most of California. It’s only a matter of time before it hits the national news. If we suspect a wider involvement, we need to find out now before the media does.”
“Detective Larson’s right,” Marshall sa
id. “We need to stay in front of this.”
“So we’ll be talking to the families of the other three suspected victims? I’d like to be there when you do, if that’s okay. Knowing that I was able to get away and now I can possibly help them get closure, I think they’d be grateful.”
The men looked around at each other in search of some form of agreement. Sometimes she hated being the outsider, feeling as though permission must be given by those in the brethren of law enforcement.
“Yes. You should be there,” Marshall insisted.
17
The Eureka airport terminal was quiet and gave Katie a moment to convince herself that her presence would be good thing for the families. It wouldn’t be easy talking to the parents of the other kids; the ones who didn’t make it home. Two decades of making every attempt to lock away the pain in the dark recesses of their minds, only to have it haunt them in their dreams. She was no stranger to that condition. And would bringing the situation to the forefront cause them even more pain? Yes, she thought. But how much greater relief would bringing the monster to justice serve?
The files stated that two of the families had more than one child. She supposed the parents had no choice but to stay strong for them, but what of the Davies family, from Arcata? Ashley was an only child, so far as she knew. It was possible they’d had more since then; an attempt to fill a void that could never really be filled. Having known, firsthand, how this had shaped her and her own family, today would be no easy day. She survived and felt guilty for it.
“The patrol car is waiting for us in Arrivals. We’ll head to the Arcata station, talk to those guys, and head out this afternoon. I’m sure they’ll want one of their own to come along. We’re getting an awful lot of cross-jurisdictional involvement here. Someone’s going to need to take point. I don’t want the families overwhelmed with a bunch of badges showing up at their doors,” Detective Larson said. “Agent Scarborough, I’ll defer to the FBI to take the lead. Have your people contacted the families yet?”
“Yes. It seems as though they’d been expecting a call from us. The news of Ms. Reid’s case has spread. I’m just grateful we’ll be talking to the families before the media gets to them.”
The Arcata police station wasn’t far. Agent Scarborough formed his core team and they were on their way. Fortunately, this still involved Katie.
“You’re sure you want to do this? You don’t have to,” Marshall said as they jumped into the patrol car.
“I owe it to them.”
The first stop was to the Davies’ house, about forty-five minutes outside Eureka, on the outskirts of Arcata. Katie took in the familiar scenery along the drive. She hadn’t been back home since traveling to the place in the woods where she’d been found, in hopes of stirring up more memories. That was the beginning of the end of her relationship with Spencer and the catalyst that had led her to this very point in time.
Agent Scarborough knocked on the door. Standing next to him were Marshall, Katie, and Chief Wilson. Detective Larson and Detective Wright, from Arcata PD, stood in the background. It was decided that they would go in only if the family was comfortable, and needed to be there as a show of local PD support.
“Mr. and Mrs. Davies?” The couple standing in the doorway appeared to be in their late fifties. The mother, slightly plump, but well dressed with short brown hair, tipped her head and opened the screen door. The father stood behind his wife as everyone filed in, his eyes followed Katie’s every step.
“Sorry for the full house, Mr. and Mrs. Davies. I’d like to introduce everyone here.” Scarborough proceeded with quick introductions as they moved from the foyer into the front room.
Katie could feel Mr. Davies’ stare, which brought her nerves on edge.
“Please, sit down.” Mrs. Davies gestured toward the flowery printed sofa. The room was very warm. Not many people this far north had air conditioning. Most of the time, it wasn’t warranted and certainly not this late in September. But today was hot and the humidity made the air sticky. A fan, the old box-shaped kind with the plastic handle on top, sat in the opposite corner of the room, stirring the warm air and bringing only mild relief.
The men waited for Katie and Mrs. Davies to sit down before finding a seat. On the coffee table were cookies, crackers and cheese, and a pitcher of iced tea, surrounded by clear plastic cups. Mrs. Davies took her time pouring everyone a drink. It seemed like no one wanted to discuss why they were all there, least of all, her.
It was Mr. Davies who took the lead. “I imagine if my Ashley were still alive, she’d look very much like you, Ms. Reid.”
A rush of heat filled her cheeks and Katie immediately took a sip of tea for distraction. Her mind drew a blank from any of the things she had planned to say during the course of the flight. She glanced at Marshall, who picked up on the hint.
“Mr. and Mrs. Davies, we very much appreciate you agreeing to see us today. It’s my understanding you both are aware of why we’re here?”
The parents said nothing, only nodding in response. The father continued to steal glances at Katie.
“Thank you for inviting us into your home. I’ll get right to the point as I don’t want to waste any more of your time,” Scarborough jumped in. “We have some fairly strong evidence that your child’s disappearance may have been committed by the same person who took Ms. Reid in the summer of 1989.”
“You poor girl,” Mrs. Davies uttered.
Katie recognized the look in her eyes. It was the same heartbroken look her mother had when she first confronted her about the kidnapping.
Scarborough went on to explain. “I know you both have been through the wringer already, so I will keep this as brief as I can. Ms. Reid, after no memory of her disappearance, has recently been able to recall most of her time with her captor. In these ‘flashbacks,’ she remembered a heart-shaped pendant necklace we now believe was the same one your Ashley wore when she was taken.”
Mrs. Davies gasped. “She always wore that necklace. It was a gift from her father on her sixth birthday. She always played with my nice jewelry.” Mrs. Davies took her husband’s hand. “He didn’t want her to break any of my expensive pieces, so he bought her that necklace. She never took it off. I tried to keep her from wearing it to bed, but it was a constant battle that I eventually gave up. Are you sure it’s the same one?”
“Unfortunately, there’s no way to be entirely sure. We are relying on Kate’s memories, which, so far, Mrs. Davies, have proven to be reliable,” Marshall said.
Even from the beginning, he believed her; believed in her. Katie pressed her lips together, revealing a small but grateful smile at his confidence.
“Much of what we know about this individual, we’ve learned from Kate. I would say that the necklace is as good a lead as we have had to date.”
Katie wondered for a moment why he hadn’t mentioned the email about him wanting his trinket back. That seemed to be a more definitive connection. “Mrs. Davies,” Katie jumped in.
“Please call me Patricia,” she replied.
“Patricia, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about what happened to your daughter. If only I could have remembered everything long ago, it might have been easier to find him and stop him from taking any more children. I can only hope that speaking with you today and getting your blessing on continuing the search for this monster will bring you both some closure. I know it will bring me closure too. We wanted to talk with you first, but there’s a good possibility the other children who were taken that same summer are a part of this too. Our intent is to speak with them as well. Out of respect for your family and in honor of Ashley, we will do our best to limit your involvement, but you must be aware of the possibilities of the media attention this will bring when it fully comes to light.” Katie was surprised by the clarity with which she was able to speak. Her mind cleared a path for her to make her point to these parents with a determination she thought she was beginning to lose.
Everyone’s eyes were fixated o
n her, hanging on her every word. In that moment, she was transformed. But it was the look in Patricia’s eyes that came from a longing for closure that she might finally bury her daughter, which completed Katie’s transformation.
Mr. Davies looked at his wife, saying nothing, but knowing exactly what she wanted. It was something that came from years of suffering through the pain together, never letting it tear what remained of their family apart. “Ms. Reid, my wife and I will cooperate in any way we can and we can handle the attention. God knows, we’ve been through it before.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Davies, we can’t thank you enough for allowing us to continue on with your help. We won’t take up any more of your time,” Marshall said.
Scarborough was the first to rise. Taking his lead, everyone else followed suit. Mr. Davies opened the front door and offered his hand in parting. Nothing else needed to be said.
Two days of reliving her own kidnapping through the eyes of the other parents left an exhausted Katie grateful to be back in San Diego. It seemed that the heat spell had finally passed, bringing the typically pleasant southern California weather back to its rightful place.
Katie regretted not having the time to see her parents while traveling nearby, but they were on the FBI’s schedule now and there was a job to be done. She had managed a call to check in. Deborah only mildly complained about the patrols set up every few hours around their house. She said it was scaring off the neighbors from attending their weekly bunko games. Deborah had a way of glossing over certain realities she couldn’t face.
It was midday and still early enough to go back to the station and brief Captain Hearn. Agent Scarborough was slowly taking the lead role on the investigation. Marshall seemed to be taking it well enough, respecting the FBI’s authority over the case. He didn’t have much say on the matter one way or another. It was looking more and more like a serial murder case spanning at least two states. He knew where the jurisdictional lines were drawn.
