The Night Monster

by James Swain

  “Travis had a few drinks, and accidentally cut his hand with a knife. Travis looked at the wound, and started talking about his hand’s earning potential, and its value on his insurance policy. That’s how the whole thing got started.”

  “How what got started?” Linderman asked.

  “How the townsfolk in Chatham started losing limbs to collect on the insurance,” Seppi replied. “It was sick, but that was what a whole bunch of them did.”

  “You mean they purposely amputated their limbs?”

  “Yeah. One guy sawed off his hand at work; another shot off his foot while protecting his chickens. One dumb ass cut off his hand and his foot with his tractor because he thought it would get him more money. In two years, a hundred people filed claims for accidents.”

  “Didn’t the insurance companies catch on?”

  “Not right away. The people were smart about it. Some went into the next county and had their accidents, while others did it on vacation. It took the heat off the town. I heard they collected twenty million dollars.”

  “And no one caught on,” Linderman said.

  “Not right away,” Seppi said. “Then two years ago, a couple of the big insurance companies in Jacksonville merged, and their books got audited. Some smart accountant saw all these claims that had been paid to Chatham. The company got suspicious, and hired a pair of investigators to snoop around.”

  “Did they find anything?”

  “Three people in town tried to talk, but they got silenced. Travis Bledsoe and his four sons did the dirty work. They burned Kaplan’s barn, and killed his horses. They also paid a visit to an old couple named Webber who used to be missionaries. The Webbers refused to shut up, and they disappeared.”

  “What was the sheriff’s involvement?” Linderman asked.

  “Sheriff Morcroft figured out what was going on twenty years ago. He extorted the people who’d cut off their limbs, and got them to pay him protection money.”

  “How many people in town know about this?”

  “Most of them, I guess.”

  “Explain to me how Mouse and Lonnie fit into this scenario,” Linderman said.

  Seppi grew silent and crushed a cigarette in an ashtray. I stood across from her, watching her facial expressions. She’d been composed up until now. But I knew from past experience that this was going to be the hard part. Mouse and Lonnie had kept her prisoner for a long time. Getting her to talk about it was not going to be easy.

  The suite had a minibar. I pulled out a bottle of overpriced spring water, and filled up a glass. I brought it to Seppi, and suggested that she drink it. She smiled at me with her eyes, and drank the glass until it was empty.

  “Mouse and Lonnie showed up in Chatham in the early 1990s,” Seppi said. “They lived on a dairy farm that Mouse’s uncle owned. People in town knew they were up to no good, but didn’t say anything.”

  “Why not?” Linderman asked.

  “Mouse knew about the insurance scam. He was part of the club.”

  “So Sheriff Morcroft left them alone.”

  “That’s right. Sometimes Mouse came into town to buy things. Outside of that, nobody saw them much.”

  “Did the townspeople know that Mouse and Lonnie were keeping young women in the compound against their will?” Linderman asked.

  Seppi grew silent. I refilled her glass and earned another smile. I mouthed the words Take your time. She nodded, and lit up a fresh cigarette.

  “People knew they had girls,” Seppi finally said. “Mouse would buy tampons at the CVS and make jokes about it. But the people in town discounted it.”

  Linderman drew back in his chair. “How did they discount it?”

  “A gang of Hells Angels once lived in Chatham. Their girlfriends would wear patches that said ‘Property of Big Frank’ or ‘Property of Crazy Al.’ The girls were slaves, but they went along with it. People in town treated Mouse and Lonnie’s girls the same way. They assumed the girls were there because they wanted to be.”

  “How did you end up with them?” Linderman asked.

  Seppi’s eyes grew distant. “I was a cashier at the supermarket one summer. Mouse came in one day, and saw my schoolbooks. He asked me what I was going to college for. I told him I was studying to be a nurse.

  “Two weeks later, I was back in school in Daytona, hanging around my dorm room one weekend. There was a knock on my door, and I opened it. Lonnie rushed in and knocked me out. I didn’t remember very much, except how that giant son-of-a-bitch kept smiling at me.

  “I woke up inside their farm. Mouse had soldered metal bracelets around my ankles. The bracelets had bells on them. I couldn’t move without them hearing me.

  “Mouse explained the deal to me that night. He told me that I was a substitute for a nurse who Lonnie had fallen in love with when he was in a mental institution. My job was to give Lonnie his medicine, and shoot him up with steroids. I also had to measure him every few days to make sure he wasn’t growing anymore. I also had to cook, and keep the place clean. If I did my job well and kept Lonnie happy, Mouse said nothing would happen to me.”

  “Were you sexually assaulted?” Linderman asked.

  Seppi sucked hard on her cigarette. “No. Mouse wanted to sleep with me—he said so a bunch of times—but Lonnie wouldn’t let him. I was Lonnie’s girl.”

  “Did Lonnie rape you?”

  “The steroids shrunk up his balls.”

  “How did you manage to escape?”

  “They screwed up. One day Mouse went into town, and Lonnie stayed behind. It was hot outside, and Lonnie had been lifting weights in the yard. He came inside, and told me he wasn’t feeling well. I gave him a cold drink and suggested he lie down on the couch. He went and lay down, and fell asleep. I walked past him a couple of times, and rang my bells. He didn’t wake up.”

  “Is that when you ran?”

  “Not right away. I was scared. I knew what had happened to Mouse and Lonnie’s other victims. But when I realized this was probably my only chance, I left.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I went straight to Sheriff Morcroft. He listened to my story, then put me in his cruiser, and took me to my momma’s nursing home. He told me he was sorry about what had happened, but because of the insurance claims, he couldn’t draw attention to the town. When we got to the nursing home, he told me he’d kill my momma if I made any trouble.”

  “What did you do?” Linderman asked.

  “I went home and cried for two weeks. Then I took the hostess job at The Sweet Lowdown, and got on with my life. It was strange. Folks in town just acted like nothing had happened. After a while, I started doing the same thing.”

  Lying on the coffee table was a folder containing the missing person reports of the other victims. Linderman spread the reports across the table.

  “What happened to Mouse and Lonnie’s other victims?” Linderman asked.

  Seppi looked at the reports, and the color drained from her cheeks. The victims’ faces stared up at her. Seppi’s expression turned strangely vacant, and she turned sideways on the couch, and stared at the wall.

  “They died,” she muttered.

  “Did Lonnie kill them?” Linderman asked.

  “Yeah. There was a small cemetery behind the house where he buried them. He liked to put flowers on their graves.”

  “So the other four victims are buried at the compound?” Linderman said.

  “There were five,” Seppi said.

  The suite grew silent. I saw Linderman’s jaw clench.

  “Tell me about the other victim,” Linderman said.

  “She was right before me,” Seppi said. “They kidnapped her down in south Florida. I saw her sneakers lying around one day.”

  “Running sneakers?” Linderman asked.

  “I think so. They were blue Nikes.”

  “When would this have been?”

  “About five years ago.”

  “Is she buried … with the others?”

  L
inderman’s voice had cracked. He switched off the tape recorder, and rose quickly from his chair. Wood and his assistant looked at him in alarm.

  Linderman did not respond to their stares. Instead, he walked to the living room’s glass slider. Opening it, he went onto the balcony.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  CHAPTER 54

  went onto the balcony to check on Linderman. He was holding the railing with both hands, listening to the night sounds. I placed my hand on his back.

  “You doing okay?” I asked.

  “Not really,” he said.

  “You can take a break, you know.”

  “I’ll be all right. Just give me a minute.”

  I lowered my hand and stared into the darkness. Many times I had tried to imagine the torturous existence he and his wife had led since their daughter’s disappearance. Each time I had come up short.

  “I’ve thought about this day for a long time,” Linderman finally said. “In the beginning, I prayed that I’d find Danny alive, and I’d bring her home and our lives would go back to normal. Then, as it dragged on and on, I just prayed for it to be over.”

  Linderman took his hands off the railing, then turned and stared at me. His stony expression had melted. I could not remember ever seeing him look so vulnerable.

  “And now the day is here,” he said.

  ———

  We went back inside, and returned to our spots. Seppi fired up a cigarette, and the questioning resumed.

  “How do we find the dairy farm?” Linderman asked.

  “I can draw you a map, if you want,” Seppi said.

  A piece of notepaper and a pencil were produced. Seppi took her time drawing a map of Chatham. When she was done, she showed us where Mouse and Lonnie’s dairy farm was located in relation to the town. It was due north and adjacent to a national forest, with a single road going in and out.

  “The farm is a couple of acres, and has a house and a barn,” Seppi said. “It’s surrounded by high fence, and there are security lights.”

  “Any dogs?” Woods asked.

  “No—Lonnie’s terrified of dogs.”

  “What kind of firearms do they have?” Linderman asked.

  “From what I remember, Mouse had a pistol, which he shot sometimes. He kept it in a safe. He was always afraid of me getting ahold of it. The real threat is Lonnie. He’s the strongest person I’ve ever seen. And he’s not right in the head.”

  There was a knock on the door. We all jumped. Wood said, “I ordered pizza during the break,” and went to answer it. A chubby pizza delivery boy stood outside. Wood handed him money, and brought two pizza boxes into the suite. The smell filled the suite, and soon we were all eating slices of pepperoni pizza.

  “Who in Chatham will put up a fight when we go in?” Linderman asked.

  Seppi had taken to the food, and answered with her mouth full. “With Sheriff Morcroft and his deputy gone, the people in town will lean on Travis Bledsoe. Travis was in Special Forces. He’s missing an arm, but he’ll put up a fight.”

  “Show us where Bledsoe lives,” Linderman said.

  Seppi drew Travis Bledsoe’s house on the map. It was outside of town, on the same road as Mouse and Lonnie’s farm.

  “Bledsoe lives with his wife and four sons,” Seppi said. “They keep assault rifles in their house, and plenty of ammunition. They’re militia.”

  “Is Bledsoe the only one we should be worried about?” Linderman asked.

  “Everyone else in Chatham is old or crippled,” Seppi said. “If you put Bledsoe and his clan down, the town is yours.”

  The questioning ended, and the tape recorder was shut off. Wood, Linderman, and I went onto the balcony to talk, while Wood’s assistant stayed with Seppi.

  “This isn’t good,” Wood said. “If Bledsoe and his sons put up a fight, we’ll have a mess on our hands. I want to assemble a large group before going in.”

  “How large?” Linderman asked.

  “At least fifty men,” Wood said. “I’ll pull all the FBI agents out of my office, and also use SWAT teams from the Daytona Police Department. They’ll need to be briefed on what to expect.”

  I cleared my throat. This wasn’t my rodeo, but I still wanted my voice to be heard. Wood shot me a disapproving look.

  “You want to say something, say it,” Wood barked.

  “The sheriff of Chatham and his deputy are lying dead in a pickup truck outside of town. Someone is going to find them, and realize things are going sideways. We don’t have the kind of time you’re talking about.”

  Wood frowned. Like most FBI agents, he didn’t like being challenged. He looked to Linderman, more interested in what Ken had to say than me.

  “Jack’s right. We’re running out of time,” Linderman said.

  Wood’s frown grew, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What do we do? Go in there with guns blazing, and hope for the best?”

  “Draw Bledsoe and his sons out of the house and arrest them,” I suggested. “We’ll get Seppi to call them.”

  “You think she’ll do that, after what she’s been through?”

  I had dealt with countless victims of abductions. Some fell apart after their ordeals were over, while others grew stronger from the experience. Seppi was a survivor, and I felt certain I could get her to help us.

  “Yes, I do,” I said.

  Wood looked to Linderman for the final word.

  “It’s worth a shot,” Linderman said.

  The FBI agents left me alone with Seppi in the living room. I sat in a chair across from her, our knees nearly touching. While I’d been gone, she’d taken to feeding Buster the crusts from our slices of pizza, which my dog practically inhaled.

  “He’s a nice dog,” she said. “Is he a pure breed?”

  “I think so. I got him from the pound.”

  “I hear they’re the best kind of dogs to have.”

  “I need your help,” I said.

  Seppi tossed Buster the last crust and turned to face me. Her expression was cold, almost defiant. I chose my words carefully.

  “We need to set a trap for Bledsoe and his sons so we can arrest them.”

  “Is that where I come in?”

  “Yes.”

  Seppi leaned back on the couch. She had finally escaped Chatham, and the sheriff who had threatened her mother’s life was dead. There was no need to go back.

  “Can’t you figure out another way to do this?” she asked, growing angry.

  “We need to do this right now,” I said. “Mouse and Lonnie are holding another young woman hostage.”

  Seppi sat up straight. “They have another girl?”

  “Yes. She’s a college student studying to be a nurse, just like you were. They abducted her three days ago.”

  “So they haven’t ruined her yet.”

  Ruined. I didn’t know what Seppi meant by that. Yet hearing the word told me that what had to be done couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Please help us,” I said.

  Seppi punched one of the pillows on the couch. The resolve that had allowed her to survive her ordeal rose to the surface, as I had hoped it would.

  “Tell me what I have to do,” she said.

  CHAPTER 55

  ith an hour of darkness remaining, we put my plan into action.

  We began by driving back to the town of Chatham. Our procession consisted of four vehicles. The first two were unmarked black vans containing the Daytona Police Department’s ten-man SWAT team. Then came Wood and his assistant in their black Audi. I was last, with Seppi sitting beside me, Linderman and Buster in the back.

  Five miles outside of Chatham, we found the spot where Sheriff Morcroft’s pickup truck had taken down the fence. Everyone pulled over, and I led Wood and his assistant to where the sheriff’s pickup lay upside down at the bottom of the borrow pit. Wood shone his flashlight on the two corpses. Rigor mortis had set in, and the men’s faces were a gruesome mix of purple and red.

  “I
still think we’re taking an unnecessary risk,” Wood said.

  “Not if we do it right,” I said.

  “You like to have the last word, don’t you?”

  I started to reply, then realized I’d be agreeing with him. I heard a rustling sound, and Wood killed his flashlight. In the darkness, a pair of silvery eyes began to circle us.

  “Is that a dog?” Wood asked.

  “Coyote,” I said.

  “It doesn’t seem to be afraid of us.”

  “It wants the bodies.”

  Wood had strapped his gun to his side. He drew and aimed. The gunshot echoed across the field like a solitary clap of thunder.

  I left Seppi with Wood, and drove to Chatham with Linderman. The town was quiet, and I pulled into the metered parking lot behind The Sweet Lowdown. Seppi’s blue Honda was parked in the rear of the lot, and I pulled up alongside it.

  Linderman hopped out of my car. He had Seppi’s keys, which he used to unlock the Honda. The Honda was slow to start, but finally turned over. Linderman pulled out of the space, and I followed him out of the lot.

  We drove through town. The images from the night before were still vivid in my memory. I was never going to forget the gruesome parade I’d seen outside the restaurant. Only the insane cut off their own limbs. Yet the people in Chatham who’d mutilated themselves were far from insane. They’d let a terrible idea take hold of them, and that idea had taken on a horrifying life of its own.

  Buster sat beside me, his hackles standing straight up. People didn’t pay attention to animals’ behavior, but I’d been raised to look at it as a sign. My dog knew that this was a bad place.

  Five minutes later, we’d reached the broken fence, and Linderman pulled off the road, and I did the same. Wood emerged from the shadows. He’d put on a black windbreaker and wool hat, and was nearly invisible. I lowered my window.

  “How did it go in town?” Wood asked.

  “No problems,” I said.

  “Good. The SWAT team is ready.”

  “Where are the other cars?” I asked.

  Wood pointed up the road. “Just around the curve. They’re hidden behind some trees.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I said.