by Alex Gates
“Everything okay?” His words clipped. A little too eager.
Guilty?
“As good as it can be,” I said.
“Did you find him?”
Hope?
Or dread?
I gave him a smile and patted his shoulder, leading him to my car.
“No, not yet…”
A prickle of ice shot through my hand. I imagined the goose bumps, but not the churning in my gut so near to this man.
I was close.
Jason was lying, and he was going to tell me why.
I made him a promise I was sure to keep.
“I think we’re very, very close to finding this bastard.”
21
You are a clever one.
But it won’t save you.
-Him
Some men got aggressive when cornered. Jason Carter sweated.
And I wanted to know why.
It took twenty minutes for Ben to get his ass back to the station, and I faked a meeting with Adamski to keep Jason on ice so I could watch how he squirmed.
And it was just the right amount.
“Holy Christ…” Ben watched the monitor with me. “What the hell did you do, hotshot?”
The surge of adrenaline wasn’t excitement. It sickened me. Who was the monster trapped in my interview room, and what would happen to me once the door locked?
Ben joined me for the interview, breaking the tension by offering Jason a hand to shake and a bottle of water. I dropped a couple files on the table and apologized for the delay. He nodded too quickly.
“Is this gonna take long?” He fidgeted. “Got a feeling Michelle’s gonna be pissed.”
Pissed. Betrayed.
Revolted.
I bet she would be.
“She was upset,” I said. “Some of these conversations can get a little…detailed. I didn’t want to cause her more heartache.”
Jason agreed. “Fine.”
“Look, I’m going to level with you.” I opened Sophia’s folder. A photo was clipped to the side—not the most indecent shot, but enough that I wanted to gauge his reaction. He looked and flinched, but was it revulsion? I couldn’t tell. “Everything’s changed with this case. The drive-by at the Wicker’s. Kaitlyn’s…” I couldn’t say the word death, but he understood. “We don’t know why this is happening. But I think…I think you might.”
He crossed his arms then decided against it. His palms flatted on the table.
Sweaty.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” he said.
“Have you had any contact with the kidnapper?” Ben asked from behind him.
Jason had to turn to address Ben. This flustered him. He twisted, trying to speak to us both and failing.
“No,” he said. “No one has talked to him. We’ve tried. You know that. We sent out messages. The media. The internet. Got nothing back.”
My turn. I recaptured his attention as Ben paced. Jason didn’t like that. He fought an urge to keep Ben in his line of sight.
Not as intimidated by me? I could work with that. “Do you have any idea who has taken her?”
“No. We told you. Again and again. We don’t know who is doing this to us.”
“Are you sure?” I held his stare. He broke first. “He’s targeting your families now.”
“I know.”
“He’s taken shots at David. Left Kaitlyn in that park to lure out Tim.”
“Yeah.”
Ben pulled a chair. “Have you noticed anything suspicious at your house?”
“I don’t think so.”
I leaned in. “Think hard, Jason. This is important, not just for Sophia, but to protect Michelle and the boys.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Everything seems normal.”
“No strange calls? No cars outside the house?”
“No.”
“Okay.” I nodded to Ben. “Well, to be safe, we’re going to send a patrol by the street on a regular basis. A couple officers will keep an eye on the neighborhood, particularly your house.”
“W—why?”
“Well, we’re worried that since he’s currently using Sophia as his…” I let the word drop. “Slave.”
Now Jason flinched.
“He might target you,” I said. “You are her father, after all. And if he feels threatened…”
“Right.”
“It’s a precaution. Who knows what this man will ultimately do. He’s obviously homicidal and dangerous. Sophia might end up dead and buried like Kaitlyn.” I clicked my pen. He jumped. “But if we had a new lead, even a little indication that he’s reached out—”
“I haven’t spoken to anyone,” Jason said. “Hand to God.”
“What about David and Tim? Do you know if they’ve uncovered something? Anything?”
“I have no idea.”
I thought he did. So did Ben.
“Do you have any idea why he would attack them?” Ben asked.
“I don’t know! Why aren’t you asking them? Jesus, what else do you want?”
His voice rose. He broke easier than my leg. Ben and I stayed quiet, letting Jason bake in his own nervous energy. A good fifteen seconds of staring, and he was ready to babble again.
“The police haven’t helped us.” Jason rubbed his face as he sweated. “You’ve taken names and report numbers, but no one has found a damn thing. So, a year ago, we pooled some money together. We did our own searches and asked our own questions. Maybe the private investigators found something out. They might not even realize how close they are.”
I doubted it. “But…you’re not close to finding anything?”
He frowned. “I guess not.”
Ben cleared his throat. “So, the kidnapper has tried to murder both David and Tim…but not the father of the girl he’s currently holding.”
A pause. Jason shrugged. “Yeah. I’m grateful. No one’s tried to hurt me or my wife or boys.”
“Strange, isn’t it?” I agreed. “Well, then there’s gotta be something we missed. Something linking the Wickers and Gibsons.” I clicked the pen again and again. His jaw twitched every time. “Okay. Let’s go over the timeline once more but add in the recent developments. Especially the new evidence we have from Tim’s attempted murder.”
This caught his attention. He sat up. “What evidence?”
Excited for the case or worried about his own trap? “We found a tree stand overlooking the woods. A couple of casings from a hunting rifle. Footprint in the dirt. He’d tried to cover his tracks. Literally. Wore a boot two sizes too big, but forensics ran the weight indent. We have his approximate height and weight now. It’s helping with the profile. Those details give us a very…comprehensive view of our kidnapper.”
He stared. “Like what?”
“Well…” I glanced over the reports before locking gazes. “He’s about your height. We’ve figured he’s white. Middle class. A family man who uses his computer and internet experience to sell the videos and avoid detection via Tor and other clients.”
“Does that sound like anyone you would know?” Ben asked. “You’re in IT.”
Jason swallowed. “Well, yeah, but…”
“Does it seem like anyone from your work?” I asked.
“I…I don’t know.”
Ben pulled a report. “Let’s start at the beginning. Sophia was taken from her birthday party on the fifteenth of June.”
This was familiar territory. Jason relaxed and breathed a sigh. “Yes.”
“How many people were at the party?” I knew the answer. I just wanted to hear it.
“About forty.”
“Kids and parents?”
He nodded. “Yeah. We had some friends and family there.”
“Has anyone’s story changed?”
“No. No one saw Sophia walk off with anyone. No one heard her yell. No one was there they didn’t recognize.”
I didn’t rely on Simm’s work for this case. It was recent enough that I coul
d rebuild it myself. “I got the invitation list from Michelle, and I conducted my own interviews. Everyone agrees. Sophia was at the party when the pizza was served. After they ate, about ten of the kids went to play hide and seek in the street.”
Jason nodded. “Yeah. She loved it. She was a great hider.”
“And you were out buying the cake?”
“I had to run out to Bethel Bakery. Michelle gets all the cakes from there.”
Ben read from the notes. “You left at noon. Came back at two?”
“Took a while to get from Wexford to the South Hills.”
I smirked. “Sounds like you made decent time. So, you were gone for two hours. And when you got back, you went to find Sophia, but no one had seen her. You checked the house and the street?”
“All the usual hiding spots,” he said.
“And then, after twenty minutes, you called the police.”
He lowered his eyes. “Yeah. We just knew. She was gone. Just like Kaitlyn and Alyssa.”
I glanced at Ben. Did he buy Jason’s heavy sigh? I wasn’t sure I did.
“Know what’s weird?” I asked. “The cases are similar, but there’s no real pattern. Nothing that would signify a particular ritual for this kidnapper.”
“Should there be?” It was the first good question Jason had asked.
“Usually. Especially with someone as obsessive and consistent as this man. It’s almost as if he’s more opportunistic than we thought.” I leaned closer. “Like, for instance, Alyssa and Sophia were taken during the day with plenty of opportunities for witnesses to notice something suspicious. But Kaitlyn…she was kidnapped at night.”
“Yeah.”
Ben folded his hands. “We think he came in the window. Took her from her bed. Tim didn’t hear anything. Heather’s used sleeping medications since Jeremy’s death. Almost like the kidnapper knew the layout to their house. Knew where to step, what to avoid, how to get in and out of a broken window that Heather had wanted Tim to fix for…close to six months, it seemed.”
“It’s sick,” Jason said.
“That’s what everyone says.” I agreed. “Just curdles the blood. Everyone on the street was shocked too. When we talked to them, they all said the same thing. The street is so quiet at night—and isolated. No one ever drives that far down the cul-de-sac. They would have noticed a car.” I hesitated. “If he even used a car.”
“Anyway,” Ben continued. “We talked to them about Kaitlyn. All their stories lined up. Most people were sleeping. You remember that night?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“You were working late, right?” I asked.
Jason shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Did you see anything strange on the way home? Any weird traffic? Anything peculiar?”
He shifted against the chair. “No. It was late when I got back. I was tired.”
“Remember what time?” I paused with my pen over the paper.
He blinked. “It was four and a half years ago. But I think…after one?”
I nodded, adding the note to my pad. “Can anyone verify it?”
Jason stilled. “What?”
I didn’t look up. “Can anyone verify it? You know, from your work? A time card or coworker in the office?”
“Why the hell do you need to verify it?”
“Procedure,” Ben said. “We do it for everyone.”
“Do you? I’m a grieving father, for Christ’s sake.”
“So is Tim Gibson.” I capped my pen. “And I think he deserves to know who kidnapped, raped, and murdered his daughter. Answer the question, Jason. Do you have anyone who can verify when you left your offices?”
“This is fucked up.” Jason’s jaw tensed. “You have all this information. I told you everything I knew four fucking years ago!”
“I want to hear it again. From your lips to my ears. Just as procedure.”
“Bullshit. This isn’t procedure. You’re asking…” He pointed at me, shakily rising from the chair. It fell backwards and struck the floor with a sharp thud. “You think I took Kaitlyn? You think I kidnapped her? You think I’m the type of sadistic monster who’d do this?”
“Jason, I’m only asking if anyone can verify that you left your offices at one in the morning.”
“No, you’re not. You’re asking if I’m a pedophile.”
I tilted my head, voice soft. “Are you?”
“Jesus Christ!” He slammed his hand on the table, but he didn’t look at us. “Is this what we’re going to do now? Interrogate the families who lost their children? My daughter is out there, Detective McKenna! This psycho is trying to kill us!”
“No,” I said. “He’s trying to kill David and Tim. So far, you’ve been safe. He hasn’t come after your family.”
Sweat dotted his brow. “Because I’ve been lucky…I’m suddenly some sort of pervert?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What are you saying?” He looked from me to Ben, his voice cracking. “What do you want? Look at your notes. I gave Detective Simms the receipt I had from the bakery when I bought the cake. Proves I wasn’t at my own house when someone stole my daughter. And what about the family vacation when Alyssa was taken? Think I left Myrtle Beach in the middle of the night, grabbed Alyssa from the bus, and then snuck back to the family?”
And yet, he still didn’t answer me. “I’m only double-checking my notes.”
“You’re fishing. You’re trying to make me into a bad guy. You have no other suspects, so you’re interrogating me.” He gritted his teeth and gestured to the door. “Don’t think I don’t know about you harassing everyone else. First you accuse Heather and Tim of sexually assaulting their son, then you destroy Amy and David’s marriage with this affair bullshit with Todd Desmond. Is that your plan? Just rip our families apart? And you’re not satisfied with them, so you’re coming after me because I have some Bitcoin?”
Ben wasn’t moved. He watched the performance with an amused smirk.
“Funny how someone can amass fifty thousand dollars on the side without having a job for a whole year,” he said.
“Yeah.” I watched Jason freeze, stricken dumb. “I’d love to know that secret.”
Ben leaned in, his voice low, like he shared in Jason’s little joke. “Yeah, we know. Talked to your employer—well, former employer. He fired you a year ago for…inappropriate internet use. Wouldn’t tell us exactly what it was, but he didn’t believe you’d be the type to watch that sort of pornography.”
I hummed. “He insisted that it must have been a mistake. That he knew you as a family man, and that you were probably only researching Kaitlyn Gibson…”
We quieted.
Jason tensed, his breathing rapid. “I was helping.”
“Oh,” I said. “Right.”
He panicked. “It wasn’t like that. Tim couldn’t watch what that animal did to his girl. And you assholes weren’t helping. Did you think I would play that video at home where my kids could have seen it?”
Ben eyed me. “See. He only watched kiddie porn so he could catch the bad guy. We must have hundreds of upstanding citizens like Jason here in our jails.”
“You son of a bitch.” Jason stared, a pure hatred in his voice. “We couldn’t sit there and do nothing. We had to see it for ourselves. You keep asking—what if it was someone we knew, what if it was someone close to us. How are we supposed to answer that if the only way we can see him is if he’s…”
He broke off, a sharp profanity stealing his strength.
I didn’t give him a reprieve. “Well, your employer must’ve understood. He only fired you, didn’t call us. But this is where it gets weird, Jason. You haven’t worked for a year. But your bills are paid. Your credit is holding steady. Michelle isn’t working, but you’ve managed to save fifty thousand dollars in a crypto-currency that you hid from your wife.”
Jason gripped the table. He didn’t move, didn’t speak.
I leaned in, voice soft. “How much money do you earn sel
ling the videos of your daughter?”
His expression twisted, but he didn’t answer. A heavy, frantic pounding on the door interrupted our interview. The door swung open, and Adamski hurriedly followed David Wicker.
David didn’t acknowledge us. He only pointed at a shell-shocked Jason.
“Don’t you say a goddamned word,” he said. “Not another fucking word.”
Jason practically ducked away. He couldn’t speak if he wanted to. “W—what are you doing?”
“Stopping this insanity.” David turned, pointing at me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Is Jason being interviewed?”
I raised my hands. “We’re only talking.”
“Good. Then as his newly appointed attorney…” David grabbed a handful of his friend’s shirt and shoved him towards the door. Jason’s unsteady steps nearly crashed him into the wall. “This conversation is over.”
What the hell was he doing? “You’re going to act as his attorney?”
“Apparently the entire damn street needs representation.” David released Jason. “What are you doing, Detective? Haven’t you caused enough misery? Kaitlyn’s dead. My marriage is…” His breath turned ragged. “You won’t be happy until you’ve destroyed us all.”
“I think it would be wise if Mr. Carter answered a few more questions,” I said.
“And I think you should fuck off. You must be a goddamned psychopath, questioning the father of a missing child. We’re hurting, Detective. We came to you for help. And all you’re doing is systematically destroying the only thing we have left in this world—each other.”
“David—”
“No.” He gestured for Jason to leave the room. “I know what you’re doing. Trying to fish for information. The case isn’t going well, so you’re gonna pin this on whoever you can twist to fit the shit evidence you’ve collected. I’ve seen it before, and I’m not going to let it happen to us. We’ve been through too much already.”
He turned to Adamski, thrusting a finger into his chest.
“If we see her on our street again, we’re filing harassment charges. I’m prepared to go to the courts, the media, the Feds. We want her gone.”
I stared only at Jason. “What if I told you I was close? That I only need a little more time to bring you justice?”
