by Robin Mahle
I should call Marshall; tell him I’m okay. Her purse was on the table. It was too far to reach so she hoisted herself up one more time and grabbed one of the burners. She turned her phone on just to see if he had called. She couldn’t leave it on for too long, they’d be able to track her.
Three voicemails; all from Marshall; each one sounding more desperate than the other. It had only been half a day since she’d spoken with him. He really was afraid for her, but she was safer there than anywhere right now. She turned it back off, then dialed his number on the throwaway. Only one ring and he picked up.
“Detective Avery.”
“It’s me.”
“Oh, thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“I know. I’ve had my phone off since I talked to you last.”
“Listen, Kate; you need to come back—now. The FBI is looking for you. They want you in custody. It’s not safe for you any more; not after Sam.”
“I’m not under arrest, Marshall. I haven’t committed any crimes. I don’t have to do what they want me to do.”
“You did steal the chief’s SUV.”
“So, the FBI is going to arrest me for auto theft?” She had to calm her nerves; sounding defensive wasn’t going to help matters. “I’m sorry, Marshall. I know you’re worried. I can hear it in your voice. But, honestly, I’m fine. I’m only planning on being here another day, then I promise I will drive right back up to Rio Dell; right to the station.”
“They want to know why you left.”
“I don’t know why; just tell them I freaked out or something. That I didn’t want to be hidden away, useless to help anyone.”
“But that’s not it, is it?”
She wanted to tell him, wanted him there to help, but this was something she had to do on her own, to protect him, for once. “I will tell you everything when I get back, I swear to you. No secrets.”
Hadn’t she said that once before to someone she loved? It didn’t hold much weight then. But this was different. She was keeping this from him for his own good; not because she feared an argument or hurt feelings.
“Damn it, Kate.”
His frustration was waning, but she could still hear a hint of it in his voice. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? I love you.” The inflection in her tone made her words sound more like a question than a statement. And it was; she was asking for forgiveness and was waiting patiently for a response.
“I love you too.”
The tension left her body as he said the words. He was upset with her, no question, but he did love her.
“Good night, Kate.”
She ended the call and put both phones on the nightstand next to her bed. As she closed her eyes, a moment of fear passed through her, goose bumps rising on her skin. Maybe it was the creepy motel, or maybe it was a fear that tomorrow, she would find nothing and would return to face the inevitable. At some point though, her journey through the dark and imposing Redwoods would have to end. It seemed like a place she’d never really left.
A man and a woman argued outside, near Katie’s motel room door. The muffled sound of obscenities being tossed around stirred her from what had been a pretty good night’s rest. “Are you kidding me?” She folded the flat pillow around her head. But it was too late. She was awake. Katie rolled onto her back and looked up at the dingy popcorn ceiling. Today was the day. She would either drive back to Rio Dell, empty handed, groveling for forgiveness or she would return, triumphant in her own investigative abilities. Like Marshall, she too had hunches and this one was strong.
But what Katie needed right now was coffee. She glanced at the wind-up alarm clock next to the bed and realized it was nearly eight a.m. The light seeping in around the edges of the blackout curtain was dull and suggested a much earlier hour. It was already the start of October and the days had grown shorter without her even noticing. Time had been standing still for so long, Katie could hardly decipher one month from the next.
One of the disposable cell phones began bouncing around on the nightstand, vibrating toward the edge until Katie snatched it up. It was the one with the number she had given to Aguilar.
“Hello?”
“You ready to get started?” The voice on the other end was immediately recognizable.
“What? I can’t come with you,” Katie replied.
“Why not? I’m not suggesting you waltz into Sac PD shouting, ‘Give me Robert Wilson’s files.’ But you need to be a part of this too. I can’t do this all on my own.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah. I can meet you in twenty minutes?”
“Make it fifteen and meet me at the diner.” Aguilar hung up.
Katie dropped the phone and began scrambling to pull herself together. Having managed a quick shower, she pulled her wet hair back into a ponytail, brushed her teeth, and was out the door.
Aguilar was sitting at the same booth from the night before. Only this time, he had some papers with him.
“I’m here; so what now?” Katie slid into the booth, clasping her hands as they rested against the table.
“I had a shitty night’s sleep in my hotel room last night, but it did give me time to think about your suspicions. While I’m not totally convinced this is going to go anywhere, I’m sufficiently intrigued and have already begun to follow up on a few things.”
Katie’s eyes lit up at his suggestion that she might have something; that she wasn’t crazy.
He pulled his laptop out of his carrier bag and powered it up on the table. “I’ve already put calls in to some people I know at San Diego County Records; they can pull up files from just about anywhere in California, not that they’re supposed to. However, there’s a shocking amount of personal information online. So, that’s where I started.”
Katie had been this route before. Not pertaining to Chief Wilson, but she knew what anyone could dig up on the internet.
“Robert Wilson was married in 1983 to Sandra Sinclair, according to an announcement in the Sacramento Bee. That much, I found online. Then, I got an email reply early this morning from one I’d shot off in the middle of the night to my guy in Records. Seems the Wilsons lived in the suburbs of Sacramento and had a daughter in 1985 named Marisa. He joined Sac PD in 1984, where he started as a street cop and moved up to detective in 1988.”
“So, the chief has a wife and daughter,” Katie said. “That doesn’t explain why he wanted to leave Sac PD for Rio Dell.”
“That’s what we know right now. The next step is to talk to someone in Sac PD, see where that gets us.”
“I can’t go in there with you. My face is all over the news.”
“Calm down; I know that. I’m going in there on my own right now. Why don’t you go back to your room and I’ll be in touch as soon as I get what I need. And, take my laptop. You can do some more research on your own and I’ll forward any more files I get to this email address.” Aguilar handed her a piece of paper with a Gmail account written on it.
The reporter whom just a week ago had been her adversary was now her biggest ally. Marshall wasn’t going to be happy about this new partnership. He trusted few people and even fewer in the media. But she suspected Aguilar would cooperate so long as he thought a big story was going to break.
“I’ll call you later.” Aguilar dropped a five on the table for his coffee and left.
Katie ordered some breakfast and scanned the internet for more leads on Wilson. Nearly an hour had passed when she heard her name and took her eyes away from the computer screen. She quickly looked around for the source and noticed the small flat screen television hanging on the wall behind the breakfast counter. A headshot of Sam was on the screen next to the local news anchor.
“And in other news, the FBI has confirmed a connection between the death of Samantha Hansen and the case of an eight-year-old Portland girl, found twenty years ago. They have advised the public that they are on the lookout for this man. The FBI asks that if you know the identity of this person to please contact them at once. He is considered
dangerous and should not be approached.”
The sketch Katie released flashed on the screen. They were admitting to a connection and that wasn’t a good thing. They wouldn’t have released this information if they didn’t believe the situation had gotten away from them.
Katie stowed away the laptop, hoisted the bag over her shoulder, and left the diner. She had to get out of there; her face might be the next one to show up on the screen.
Back in her room, Katie continued looking for anything she could find on Wilson and his family, but Aguilar seemed to have had better luck. The piece of paper with the Gmail address on it lay next her. She opened up the account, but there were no new messages. The hours were ticking away and she had expected to hear from Aguilar by now.
She soon reached for the cell phone and held it in her hand, staring at it, debating the need to call Marshall and find out what was going on. He would only insist she come back, but what if he had more information? Something had happened overnight and she needed to know.
“Detective Avery.” His tone was softer than before. He must have realized it would be her.
“It’s me. I’m checking in.”
“I was hoping it’d be you. Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. I just saw the news that the FBI admitted to the connection between Sam and Angela Richards.”
“They did. Kate, I need you to come back here today.”
There was something foreboding in his words, something that made her heart sink. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it? What is it, Marshall; what’s going on?”
“There was another package, this time it was delivered to your parents’ house late yesterday. I didn’t find out about it until after we spoke last night. Miller called Chief Wilson and told him first.”
“My parents’ house? Aren’t there cops protecting them?”
“Yes. But it was sent via courier. We’re already working on who requested the delivery.”
“What was in the package, Marshall?”
“It was a bracelet; a child’s bracelet, like the kind a little girl would wear.”
“Oh God, another child has gone missing? Who? When?”
“We don’t know anything yet. But the bigger problem is that it was sent to your folks’ place. Katie, we need to get you and your parents somewhere safe. We are getting close to finding him. The guys working Oregon City may have finally turned up something. But we need you to come back and be with your family.”
“What do you mean; what did they find up there?”
“I mean it’s the little things that end up bringing down the bad guys, Kate. Scarborough’s men tracked down a location in Oregon City. You remember the lead on the stationery store? Someone in the area knew the guy, said he lived in a small cottage on the edge of town. The FBI is there now, searching the place.”
“Why aren’t you there?” she asked.
“I’m supposed to bring you back and keep your parents safe. He knows where they live and until we hear of a missing persons’ report that would fit, we don’t know if he’s taken another kid. Kate, I need you to come back now. Whatever it is you think you’re accomplishing out there on your own isn’t important any more. If they find anything about his identity in that house, he’s going to get desperate; start taking bigger risks. No one; not the FBI and not me, wants you or your parents around when that happens.”
“Okay, I get it.” And she did. She was scared, not just for herself, but for her parents. “I’ll be back tonight, I promise.”
“They know you’re in Sacramento. You need to come back now before they come and get you.”
“Wait, how do you know?” She suddenly felt betrayed. Had Marc Aguilar, Mr. Annoying Investigative Reporter, called her out? She knew she shouldn’t have trusted him.
“Seems the chief still has some friends at Sac PD; someone called to tell him a reporter had been asking questions. I’m assuming you enlisted some help?”
“Shit.”
“I need to tell them you’ll come back voluntarily or they’re going to send someone to come get you.”
“Why am I being treated like the criminal here? Am I not free to travel wherever I want?”
“Normally, yes; but the last thing the FBI wants right now is for the press to realize you’re out looking for answers on your own and that the FBI can’t control you.”
“So, it’s not about safety, it’s about controlling me.”
“Not for me, it isn’t. I want you back here with me because I’m terrified something’s going to happen to you. But for them, yes; mostly it’s about keeping a handle on the investigation and not having some rogue person out there thinking she can find the killer, especially as she’s the only surviving victim.”
“Marshall, I just need you to give me a few more hours. Okay? Can you just tell them we talked and I agreed to come back? I’ll just have some ‘car trouble’ along the way, explaining the delayed return.”
“Promise me it’ll only be a few hours, Kate. I’m trusting that you understand what’s at stake here.”
“I get it. I caused the death of my best friend. I’m not going to be the cause of losing my parents too. A few hours, I promise.” She hung up.
Katie began to wonder how much Aguilar was going to be able to find out. One of Wilson’s friends either overheard him asking about the chief, or was the one being asked. She was going to have to call him and find out what was going on. “Marc, it’s me. Where are you?”
“I’m leaving the station now. I need to see you right away. I need to meet you at your motel. You said it was nearby?”
“It is. I’m at 6291 W. Freeport blvd. The SkyRacers Inn, Room 285.”
“Fine. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
It was the longest five minutes Katie had ever waited to pass. She caught herself biting her nails; something she only did when anticipating bad news.”
A knock on the door—“It’s me, Katie. Marc. Open the door.”
She walked over to the window and edged the curtain back just enough to confirm it was him and he was alone.
“Come in quick.” She stepped aside to let Marc in. “So? What’d you find out?” She’d expected him to give her that pitiful look from last night. The one people give when they think you might be crazy.
“You’re going to need to sit down, Katie.” Aguilar pulled out his notepad. “Sac PD was a dead end. They shut me out the minute I started asking about Wilson’s transfer.”
“Yeah, I suspected as much. I talked to Detective Avery and he said someone called you out.”
“Well, if it hadn’t been for a call I got from my guy over in Records, I’d be coming to you with nothing. I got the big fat run around at the station.”
“So what is it? What’d you find out?”
“Chief Robert Wilson, formerly Detective Wilson, used to be in the system.”
She had no idea what he was talking about.
“The foster care system,” he explained. “He had a brother and a sister, all in the system. Wilson isn’t his birth name. It’s Hendrickson. He was born to Elise and Frank Hendrickson in Eureka. Seems the parents hit hard times, split up, and the mother couldn’t afford to care for the kids. She committed suicide and the three of them went into foster care because no one could track down the father. Wilson was five, his brother seven, and his sister was two.”
While this was an interesting bit of information about the chief, Katie couldn’t yet figure out why it was she had to sit for this one.
Aguilar must have sensed this and sat down at the edge of the bed next to her. “Wilson went on to be adopted by a nice family in the suburbs of Eureka.”
“What happened to the other two? Katie asked.
“An accident killed the toddler.”
It began to dawn on her why he had instructed her to be seated. “What happened to the sister, Marc?”
“She drowned in a tub at the children’s home about six months before Wilson was adopted. Joseph, the older broth
er, claimed it was an accident; said she slipped under the water while he was getting her a towel.”
“Oh God.”
“Joseph’s file was sealed after that. The only other information my guy could find was that he had, at some point, been placed into a mental hospital. He tracked down a couple of letters from a hospital in Eureka sent to the state, suggesting that Joseph Hendrickson not be released until the age of eighteen. The guy’s been pretty much a ghost since then.”
Katie stood up and began pacing the room. It was starting to make sense now. She had taken the chief at his word when she and Spencer first met with him. Saying he was going to talk it over with the DA, see if he could get the case reopened. That first letter sent to the station; a warning for her to stop digging around.
The chief tried to get her to drop it; tried to persuade Marshall to convince her to let it go. But she didn’t; she kept pushing for answers.
Everything changed after the last letter was sent to her apartment in San Diego six weeks from the time Wilson was contacted. Looking back now, it seemed so obvious. Why hadn’t she seen it before?
“Jesus, Katie, you don’t know what you’ve done.” Wilson’s last words to her before she left.
Katie stared at the cheap oil painting hanging above the bed, her head reeling with this new information. She finally looked down at Aguilar. “It’s his brother, Joseph. That’s why he transferred to Rio Dell. Somehow, he knew his brother was involved in the missing children cases. I don’t know how he found him, or maybe Joseph tracked Wilson down. Either way, the brothers found each other again and Wilson must have seen what his brother had become. I don’t understand why he didn’t stop him the first time? What could have happened to make Wilson look the other way?” Trepidation began to rise in her. “I have to get out of here. There are far too many unanswered questions.” Katie rushed around, throwing what few things she had into the plastic laundry bag, which hung in the closet.
