Heather later responded that yes, Kari Whitney sounded correct. She had texted back as Erica and Owens were halfway to Kingston.
Kari Whitney, along with the names of the other girls in the group were passed on to the Bureau’s research department and told that it was a rush. If the killer was targeting sexual offenders tied to the therapy group, Erica and Owens might soon have the names of the murderer’s next intended targets.
They were contacted within a short period of time and given two names—Ronald Hines and William Davilla.
Ronald Hines had beaten, abducted, and raped a fourteen-year-old girl named Ruth Thomas. The rape was brief because Hines was stopped during the attack. He had taken Ruth as she walked home from a friend’s birthday party and dragged her into the park. Two homeless men heard the teen’s screams and pulled Hines off of her.
Ruth Thomas had been beaten badly about the face and had broken a finger attempting to fight off Hines. The two homeless men had done worse to Hines, whom they had kicked and stomped on repeatedly. By the time the police arrived, Hines had to be carted away inside an ambulance and rushed into emergency surgery.
William Davilla raped Donna Davis when he was twenty-two and she was thirteen. The rape occurred after a long period of stalking. Davilla was later determined to be mentally unstable. He was labeled a paranoid schizophrenic and sent off to a mental institution. He stated that he raped the teen to, “Teach her not to spy on me.”
Incredibly, both men were free and walking the streets. This was owing to the combination of an overcrowded prison system and budget cutbacks for mental health facilities.
Ronald Hines’ last known address was in Brooklyn, while William “Willie” Davilla rented a tiny apartment above the car wash he worked at on Staten Island.
They would be contacted either by police or FBI agents in those jurisdictions and warned, while local FBI agents would coordinate with the cops to keep watch on each of their homes.
Erica and Owens were about to get help as more agents and resources would be involved in the case. Now that they knew who might be targeted next, they had an excellent chance of catching the murderer in the act as he or she delivered their black envelopes with the promise of death.
They didn’t want to be obvious and scare the killer away. That said, if the killer approached either man, or attempted to leave a black envelope, the FBI surveillance teams would have them. Each team had photos of the likely suspects, Heather Gray, Jason Warwick, Dr. Audrey McNamara, and Ted Marx.
Photos of Lila were on the Martins’ mantelpiece and Erica saw a haunted look in the girl’s eyes. That was not true of the pictures taken before the rape. Five-year-old Lila Martin grinned at the camera and looked as happy as a child could be. Lila Martin had been a blonde, blue-eyed beauty. Erica could well imagine Jason Warwick or any other teen boy falling hard for the girl.
When she asked Beth Martin if they had ever heard the name Jason Warwick, both parents nodded.
“He was so infatuated with Lila, and he was a nice boy. I had hopes that she might become friends with him, but no, she couldn’t bring herself to trust anyone.”
Hollis Martin laughed. “Friends? Jason wanted to be friends all right, and more than friends, but yeah, he seemed like a good kid.”
“What about Heather Gray? Do you know the name?”
Beth Martin’s mouth became a grim line in her face. “Lila mentioned her a few times when she came home crying. That girl was mean to her, and for no reason. Agent Novac, our daughter was as harmless as a kitten and never said a harsh word to anyone. That girl had no call to tease Lila like she did.”
“What would she tease her about?”
“She’d call her Barbie, because of Lila’s resemblance to that doll, and Lila said that Heather was always telling her to stop being so weak and wimpy. Lila wasn’t weak… she was damaged, so damaged that she took her own life.”
“The man who raped her is dead, and he did not die an easy death,” Owens told them.
“We heard, of course,” Hollis Martin said. “No matter how bad his death was, it couldn’t have been enough to pay him back for the pain he caused our daughter, our family. I hope he’s roasting in hell.”
When Erica asked them if they had any connection to Ted Marx, they replied that they hadn’t, other than to watch his ViewTube channel.
Mr. Martin leaned forward. “Are these murders connected to Lila somehow?”
“We’re not certain, but there seems to be a link to the therapy group your daughter attended years earlier with Dr. McNamara,” Erica said. “What is your opinion of the doctor?”
The couple glanced at each other, then Mrs. Martin answered.
“Looking back, we think it was a mistake to send Lila to see her. Audrey McNamara can be a little… intense at times.”
“Intense how?” Owens asked.
“She pushed Lila constantly to be more assertive and to put the past behind her. That was good advice, I suppose, but Lila needed a gentler hand. We removed her from Dr. McNamara’s care and found a psychologist who was a better fit for her. I thought Lila was making progress finally, and then they released Craig Rubio from prison. Once that happened, Lila began a downward spiral into depression.”
After leaving the Martins, Erica and Owens took a short ride to the home of Dr. Audrey McNamara. They had planned to speak with Ruth Thomas and Donna Davis before visiting the doctor. However, both women lived and worked in the city while the doctor was close at hand. To save a trip back to the Kingston area, they decided to speak to her first.
Erica thought that Audrey McNamara gave off an aura of self-importance. The forty-nine-year-old doctor was tall, leggy, and had long red hair. According to her biography, she was an expert in karate and an ex-pole vaulter who once came close to winning an Olympic medal.
When they explained why they wanted to speak with her, she talked to them on her front porch.
“We might be more comfortable inside, Doctor,” Erica suggested.
“I’d rather talk out here. Federal agents aren’t allowed inside my home without a search warrant; I value my privacy. I’ll also tell you right now that I will not discuss any of my current or former patients with you.”
“This could be a matter of life and death, Dr. McNamara,” Owens said.
The doctor’s lips formed a small smile on her pretty face.
“Are you investigating the one they call The Appointment Killer?”
“Yes,” Erica said. “How did you guess?”
“I didn’t need to guess. I’ve been following the story on that Ted Marx’s ViewTube channel. Of course, I recognized the names of the victims from sessions I had with patients.”
“When did you realize that the victims were linked by your patients?” Owens asked.
“I became aware of the slayings when that third man was murdered. He was poisoned, I believe?”
Anger was evident in Owens’ tone as he said, “Why didn’t you contact us and let us know about the connection you’d uncovered?”
“Why would I? Whoever the murderer is they’re doing the world a service by eliminating those men. Besides, it’s not my place to do your jobs for you.”
Erica was angry as well, and she had slept poorly due to anxiety over a personal problem. Angel had been evasive lately about his activities whenever Erica spoke to him by phone. He’d reduced his hours at the restaurant but also said that he hadn’t been working for the carpenter in over a week. So, what was he doing with his time? And, who was he spending it with? Erica tried not to imagine him with Felicia Downing, but the thought kept returning that Angel was cheating on her. Last night, she’d been unable to reach him until nearly midnight.
“I was in an area that has poor cell service.”
“What were you doing?”
“A side job, putting up fences and building a shed.”
“This late at night?”
“The homeowner’s nearest neighbors are a mile away and they’re a night owl.
Since they didn’t mind the noise, I kept working.”
“After dark?”
“They have floodlights on the property. The sooner I get this job done the better.”
“What does it pay?”
“Oh, um, it’s better than what the carpenter was paying me, and I can still get work from him when this job ends.”
“Don’t work too hard.”
“I won’t. When are you coming home again?”
“I hope it’s soon, and we’re making progress. Unfortunately, there’s been another murder.”
“I saw that on the news, be careful, Erica.”
“You be careful too.”
“Me?”
“I meant the carpentry work you’re doing. Don’t get hurt.”
“I might smash my thumb with a hammer, but you’re dealing with a killer.”
“I miss you, Angel.”
“I miss you too, baby.”
Erica told herself that nothing was going on, but she’d been suspicious since her nephew had reported seeing Angel at Felicia Downing’s home. Was her insecurity showing, or was there really a reason to worry?
Erica moved closer to Dr. McNamara, causing the woman to take a step to the side.
“Have you been to Pennsylvania recently, Doctor?”
“Pennsylvania? No, I haven’t been there in years.”
“What about White Plains, New York?”
“I’ve never been there.”
“Where have you been the last two weeks?”
“I’ve been here; I’m working on a new book.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“I live alone, so no, but what are you getting at? Are you saying that you suspect me of killing these monsters?”
“Monsters? Is that how you think of them?”
“It is, and they are. If you could see the trauma their young victims go through, you would refer to them as monsters as well.”
“And monsters need to be eradicated, isn’t that right?”
Dr. McNamara smiled. “Now you’re trying to put words in my mouth. That said, I have no sympathy for the men being killed.”
“Are you and Heather Gray close?”
“I will not discuss a patient with you.”
“All right, then tell us about your relationship with Ted Marx.”
“Ted Marx? I don’t know him personally; I only watch his videos.”
“I thought perhaps that you met him through Heather Gray, or Jason Warwick.”
“Jason? Is Jason involved in this business somehow?”
“When was the last time you saw Jason?”
“It’s been over a year, at his mother’s funeral. He’d matured into quite a handsome man.”
“How did his mother die?”
“Carol had a bad heart. After a bout with pneumonia, her condition worsened.”
“They lived here at one time?”
“They did, when Jason was a boy.”
“He had a crush on a patient of yours, Lila Martin. Were you aware of that?”
The doctor laughed. “Lila was all he talked about. Jason lived to see her arrive for our sessions. He’d sit out here on the steps, waiting for her to be dropped off by her mother or father. He was wasting his time though; Lila was far from being ready to give the kind of trust that a relationship takes.”
“She committed suicide. Did you know that?”
“I… I did. I attended the funeral.”
“Did you and Jason go to the funeral together? He was of age by then, yes?”
“What would his age matter?”
“You have a reputation to think about. It wouldn’t be wise for you to be seen in the company of an underaged male.”
“I have no interest in Jason; I’ve known him since he was a boy.”
“That’s right, the two of you lived under the same roof when Jason was a teen. Were you and he ever alone in the house together back then?”
The doctor narrowed her eyes. “What are you insinuating? Are you accusing me of being a pedophile?”
“People often hate qualities in others that they harbor within themselves but deny or fight against. As a psychiatrist, I’m sure you’re aware of that quirk of human nature.”
Color brightened the doctor’s cheeks. “I have never had an attraction to a child of any age. It’s sick to imply that I might have.”
“You made a point of mentioning how handsome Jason was.”
“So what?”
“I thought the comment revealing.”
“You have a filthy mind, Agent Novac. My comment was harmless.”
“You never answered my question.”
“What question?”
“Did you and Jason attend Lila Martin’s funeral together?”
Dr. McNamara released a soft sigh before replying. “Jason picked me up here and we went to the funeral together. It made no sense for us to take two cars.”
“Did the date continue after the funeral?”
The doctor spoke through clenched teeth. “There was no date. We attended the funeral, he dropped me back here, and then I didn’t see him again until his mother passed away years later.”
“I’ll verify that with him.”
“Why all this interest in Jason? Do you suspect him of being the man doing these slayings?”
“Who says it’s a man committing the murders? I can well imagine a woman carrying them out.”
“Meaning me?”
“Is there something you’d like to tell us, Doctor?”
“There is. If you want to speak with me again, contact my lawyer.”
Dr. McNamara opened her door, slipped inside, and slammed it behind her.
Owens chuckled. “I think you got under her skin.”
“Then we’re even,” Erica said. “She was getting on my nerves.”
Chapter Forty-Three
CONNECTICUT, FRIDAY, JULY 19th
Ronald Hines climbed out of his work truck, then walked around to the rear of it to hook up a ramp. He moved with a limp. It was a permanent reminder of the beating he’d received the night he had raped a fourteen-year-old girl named Ruth Thomas.
The ramp was needed so that he could drive the riding mower off the rear of the pickup truck. Ronald Hines worked for a landscaper out of Brooklyn, but his territory was in Connecticut.
He considered it to be the country, having grown up in New York City.
Hines was at an estate that had a huge lawn. A call had come in saying that the homeowner was looking for a new landscaping company to take over the maintenance of the property.
Ronald’s boss told him that it was an opportunity to get a toehold in a new area, and to make sure he did a good job cutting the lawn. Hines had been insulted. It was as if the man was insinuating that he did a lousy job normally.
After getting the mower off the rear, Hines filled it with gas from one of four steel, five-gallon cans he kept for fuel. He then checked the oil and started the mower.
He rode it off the paved surface of the driveway and onto the lawn, which didn’t look bad at all. Hines guessed that it couldn’t have been cut too long ago by the company that used to do it. That was good. He hadn’t known what to expect and had been imagining knee-high grass and weeds. Although the lawn was wide and deep, he assumed it wouldn’t take him much time to trim it. Afterward, he’d enjoy a long lunch. With only three small lawns left to do after this one, it should be a good afternoon.
Hines finished the lawn and had a fine time doing it. The job didn’t pay much, but he liked working alone and for the most part no one bothered him. After having done hard time in an overcrowded prison, time alone and plenty of fresh air in the great outdoors was close to heaven.
He had loaded the riding mower back into the truck and was removing the ramp when he heard someone call his name.
Hines didn’t know anything about The Appointment Killer. He didn’t own a computer and only watched sports and old movies, which he recorded. Whenever a news or commercial break
came on, he fast-forwarded until the movie or ball game appeared on the screen again. As for the radio, the one in his truck hadn’t worked in years, and he took a bus to get to his job.
When the two local FBI agents approached him, he thought they were there to arrest him. He had done a lot of bad things during his life and figured one of them had caught up to him again.
“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”
One of the men was black, tall, and wore glasses, the other man was white, short, and had blond hair. Neither man flashed a badge but they both had law written all over them.
“I’m Agent Reid of the FBI,” said the black man. “This is Agent Quinn. You are Ronald Hines, correct?”
“I don’t want to talk to you. I just want to call a lawyer.”
The two agents looked confused by Hines’ reaction, then Agent Quinn spoke to him. He had a deep voice that didn’t fit his small frame.
“We’re here because we think someone may want to hurt you, Mr. Hines. We just wanted to let you know that we’ll be following you to keep you safe. Other agents are watching your apartment house.”
“Who would want to hurt me?” Hines asked, although he could think of a dozen names of people who might want him dead for one reason or another, including his mother.
“Sir, have you heard of a serial murderer named The Appointment Killer?” Reid asked.
“No, but I don’t follow the news.”
“Have you received any black envelopes in the mail?”
“Black? No, just bills and stuff.”
“That’s good,” Agent Quinn said. “It means you’re safe.”
“How many people has this killer whacked?”
“Four so far. They were all rapists or child molesters—like you,” Reid said.
“I did my time, damn it.”
“This killer doesn’t care, but don’t worry, he won’t get to you.”
“What should I do, quit for the day and go home?”
“That would be smart; it’s easier to keep watch on you indoors.”
The Appointment Killer Page 18
