by Julie Mellon
“What can you tell us about your wife’s routine today, Mr. Jones?” Michael gently asked as he sat next to the man. Katie continued to wander around the house.
“Well, she fixed me breakfast before work. I knew she had to drop off some stuff at the church. She usually went to the park when she was over to that side of town. See, she wanted kids, but the good Lord ain’t seen fit to give us none. She always went over to watch the kids play. Said the laughter encouraged her soul. Please find her before he does something bad to her.” His pleading tone was heartbreaking.
Michael worked hard to keep his expression neutral. He had just seen first-hand what this man did to his victims. There was no way he was going to reveal that information to another victim’s husband.
Katie had been looking at all the pictures on the wall. There was one of a happy couple on their wedding day surrounded by a lot of family. The wall itself was covered in framed photographs that progressed in age from left to right. The last photo on the right was of a couple with a dead deer between them. The man was Chuck Jones. “Is this Barbie?” Katie asked. Chuck looked up and nodded when he saw the picture she was pointing to. Barbie was a tiny blonde haired woman. Standing next to her husband, she looked even smaller. Katie would put her at approximately five feet two inches and barely a hundred pounds.
Chuck appeared by her side. “We took that picture over the winter. It was her first deer. She’d been bugging me to teach her to shoot since we got married. But she’s so small and fragile that I didn’t want her to learn. Made me feel good knowing I could provide for her. See, we don’t have much, but we love each other. That was always enough for her. Don’t know why she chose me. There were lots o’ men who could give her better. She has to be okay.” The last statement was made in an anguished whisper.
Picking up on something he said, Katie asked, “What do you mean she’s fragile?” The woman in the picture might be small, but there was an attitude about her that screamed anything but fragile.
Chuck grunted a small laugh. “Don’t tell her I said that. She would whip my butt into next week.” Seeming to realize what he said, Chuck shook his head and continued. “She has diabetes, type one. Has had it all her life. Before, doctors always said not to try to have kids. But nowadays, they think it’s okay. Her sugar has been under control all her life, ‘cept for once in high school. She decided she was tired of bein’ different so she stopped taking her insulin. She nearly went into a coma before her ma caught what she was doing.” Chuck shook his head at the memory and shuffled back to his seat at the table.
Michael poured him a glass of water while asking, “Any idea when she took her last insulin dose, and when her next one is due?”
“Well, I know she took one this morning. She keeps some supplies in her purse, but she don’t like taking it in public, so mostly she stays at home to inject herself. She has to take her sugar levels before eating. Her lunch is still in the fridge, so I don’t think she made it home for lunch. She’s way past due for a dose by now.” The worry on his face was plain.
“We’re going to go check in with the searchers. The chief will stay with you, so he can keep you up to date on what’s happening.” Michael stood and he and Katie left the trailer.
Pulling the chief aside, Katie said, “Make sure someone stays here overnight. We don’t want another woman left on the front porch where her husband finds her. It would also be good to have someone here to catch the guy making the drop. I think Mrs. Jones will be brought back sooner than Mrs. Henderson was.” The chief just nodded and Michael and Katie turned to leave.
“This isn’t good,” Michael said the minute they were outside.
“Guess that depends on your perspective,” Katie said. “If she passes out or goes into a coma, she won’t have to suffer what Elaine Henderson did.”
Michael thanked the stars above that Katie hadn’t expressed that thought in front of Chuck Jones.
They drove to the park behind Christ the King church, which was serving as the headquarters for the search parties. It seemed that the whole town was there to help out. There were so many vehicles in both the park and the church parking lot that Michael had to park nearly a block away. Walking the rest of the way, Michael and Katie entered the back door of the church. The door opened into a wide hallway with six doors spaced evenly, three on each side. At the far end, opposite the entry, was a seventh door. They made their way to the table at the other side of the first room on the left to check in with the deputies manning the maps and assigning search quadrants.
Once Michael was in conversation with the deputies, Katie walked away to look around the church. In the room across the hall there were several tables in rows, each piled high with various items. On the near side, there were tables of clothing, which appeared to be arranged by size and gender. In the next row, there were tables with household decorations and knick-knacks. The table farthest from the door held children’s toys and wasn’t arranged as neatly as the rest. Remembering that this table had been overturned during the timeframe before Elaine Henderson had been discovered missing, Katie began to look at it more closely. One of the legs was bent and she made a note to ask if it had been that way before the kidnapping. Moving on, she paced the room trying to picture how the attack had happened.
Imagining she was the kidnapper, she threw a large duffle bag over her shoulder and walked from the toy table to the door, attempting not to bump into any of the other tables. The aisles were narrow and it wasn’t possible to make it to the doorway, which was the only exit to the room, without hitting several of the other tables.
She was almost to the door when Michael walked in. “What in the world are you doing?”
Katie looked at him without saying anything. Finally, she motioned him forward, closing the door behind him to keep their exercise private. She walked him back to the toy table and explained. “I was pretending to be the kidnapper. If Elaine was at this table and struggled with him, I was trying to figure out how he managed to get her out of the room without disturbing any of the other tables. Pretend you are the kidnapper. I’m a bit taller than Elaine, but see if you can carry me out of the room without bumping into anything.”
Michael looked at her like she had sprouted another head.
“Come on, Michael. Humor me. Let’s assume that Elaine was unconscious after the struggle. If she hadn’t been, there is absolutely no way he would have gotten her out of here without more tables being overturned.”
Michael just nodded and bent down to pick Katie up. Pulling her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, he turned and walked toward the door. He hadn’t even passed one table before he nearly tripped and landed them both on the floor. Recovering his balance, he moved on. When he finally reached the door, he was sweating and out of breath. Putting her down, he said, “I see what you mean. There’s something not right about this. I’m in great shape and that maze was impossible. Our guy has to be in good condition. Let’s try something else.” Walking back to the toy table, Michael motioned Katie to follow him. Making her lie down on the floor, he grabbed her under the arms and began dragging her toward the door. This, too, proved impossible. The narrow aisles didn’t allow for Katie’s feet to clear the ends of the tables without dragging them out of their rows.
Michael had almost made it to the door when it opened. A priest stood in the doorway with a confused look in his face. Quickly standing up, Katie was embarrassed to be caught, even though they hadn’t been doing anything wrong. Being behind closed doors with a man just felt wrong to her, especially in a church.
“Can I help you?” the priest asked.
“Are you Father Joe?” Michael asked in return.
“Yes, and you are?”
“I’m Special Agent Michael Powell. This is my partner, Special Agent Katie Freeman. We were just walking through the scene of the first disappearance. Do you mind answering a few questions while you’re here?”
While Michael went through the standard questions with
Father Joe, Katie continued to pace the room. Half listening, she was still running through possible exit paths. It just seemed impossible to get from the back of the room out the only door without disturbing the rest of the yard sale items.
Once Michael asked all the questions he had, Katie wandered into the hall and headed away from the door through which they had entered. With a puzzled look, Michael and Father Joe followed. Further down from the two main rooms, there were a men’s and a women’s restroom followed by a doorway that led into an office.
“That’s my office. Feel free to look around.”
Katie merely closed the door and moved on. Across from the office there was a custodial closet and at the end there was a door leading to the altar level of the sanctuary. Continuing through, Katie walked past the confession booths to the left and down the side aisle to the front doors of the church. Opening the doors, she discovered that the church sat right on the street. There was no lot on this side; just the sidewalk that was filled with searchers on their way back in now that darkness had begun to fall. Katie closed the door and began retracing her steps.
Finally realizing that she had an audience, she asked, “Are there any other exit doors to the church?”
Father Joe motioned to the other side of the sanctuary to a door labeled as an exit. Katie went over and opened it only to discover that it opened on the side of the church, but in full view of the parking lot out back. Returning inside, Katie closed the door behind her and the three of them made their way silently back to the other side of the church to see if any of the returning people had found anything.
They entered the room just as a group of three men came forward carrying a purse. Looking inside, the driver’s license positively identified it as belonging to Barbie Jones. Also still inside was the small case containing her insulin. Michael met Katie’s eyes over the table; both thinking this was not a good sign.
Over the next several hours the remaining searchers returned empty handed, and with no sign of Barbara Jones. The search was stopped for the night and scheduled to pick up at daybreak. At nearly midnight, Katie dragged her tired body into bed to catch a few hours’ sleep but thoughts of what Barbie was more than likely going through kept playing in her mind.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Barbie opened her eyes slowly, her mind foggy as she tried to figure out where she was. She tried to swallow and realized there was something metallic in her mouth. She tried to spit it out, but it was somehow attached. Trying to bring her hands to her mouth, she realized that they were tied to the posts on either side of her. Widening her eyes in terror, she frantically looked around. She was standing between two posts in what looked like a cave. The walls were uneven rock and the floor was dirt or clay. Her feet were attached to the bottoms of each post and her arms were stretched above and tied to the tops of the posts. She was also naked. At this thought she began to tremble.
Oh, God where am I? Calm down, Barb, you can figure this out. Why is my brain so foggy? All at once, she felt the sweat streaming down her body; it smelled sickly sweet. She knew what this meant. She had been too long without insulin. She began trying to calm her breathing, knowing the stress would make things worse. So would the sweat. If she dehydrated, she would be even worse off. She had to try to remain calm and think of how to get out of this. This worked until the first strike of something slapped against the naked flesh of her back.
She arched her back and tried to cry out, but the gag in her mouth made it impossible for more than a muted cry to come out. The blows kept raining down over and over and over: on her back, her butt and the backs of her thighs. Barbie had no way to protect herself. She struggled against the ropes holding her in place and kept screaming the useless sounds. After what seemed like forever, the blows stopped.
A figure in a hooded robe walked around her and into her line of vision. She blinked the tears that were streaming from her eyes so she could see him better. The robes were ceremonial priest robes, but the hood didn’t belong in any ceremony she had ever seen. A deep voice rasped out, “You killed innocent babies.”
Desperately shaking her head, Barbie tried to tell him that she would never kill a baby. She had tried so hard to have one of her own. Thinking of all the miscarriages she had gone through had her crying harder and shaking her head vehemently in denial of his words. This seemed to infuriate him further and the blows from the whip in his hand began raining down on her breasts, stomach and thighs. Barbie’s vision began to dim and she knew she was very close to passing out. She tried to stay conscious so she could tell him that someone had misinformed him. That she could never kill an innocent baby. But her body wouldn’t hang on any longer and the darkness claimed her.
As her body slumped into unconsciousness, the man paused in his strikes. Thinking she had just passed out from the pain, he reached over and grabbed the ammonia on the table beside the whipping post and waved the vial under her nose. She didn’t stir. Frowning, he dropped the whip and used his hand to slap her across the face. When that still didn’t revive her, he pinched her left nipple as hard as he could. Still, Barbie didn’t stir. Quickly, he cut the ropes holding her up and let her drop to the floor. He put his head against her chest and listened for a heartbeat. Not hearing one, he became angry. How could she die so soon? She hasn’t been punished enough. She should suffer for what she did to those innocent babies. Striking her again and getting no response, he let her head fall to the floor with a loud thunk.
The man began pacing the small space. He had to get her out of there. He couldn’t be around a defiler for long. He couldn’t be in their deceased presence or their evil might infect him. Needing to know where the searchers were, he slipped out of his robe and climbed the stairs that were dug into the wall. Listening closely for sounds on the other side, he slipped through the panel in the wall and rejoined the crowd in the back room of the church. Ascertaining that the search had ended for the night, the man returned to her lifeless body and scooped it up. Moving quickly, he went down the underground tunnel at the other side of the room and placed the body in the back of his van. Without using lights, he drove to Barbie’s home and quickly dumped her body on the porch and drove away.
Chuck lay in the darkness of the trailer clutching Barbie’s pillow to his face. He was afraid that if he cried, his tears would wash away her scent. His three dogs lay on the floor beside the bed, none of them sleeping either, as if they were missing her too. Chief Davidson was in the living room, sleeping on the sofa. He had said he needed to stay close, in case a ransom call came in, but they both knew no ransom call was going to come. The hum of the window air conditioner was the only sound in the quiet night.
Suddenly, Mack, the leader of the pack of dogs came to his feet. The other two quickly followed. None of them made a sound, they all just headed for the front door, but every hair on their bodies stood on end, making the hair on the back of Chuck’s neck stand up as well. Quickly grabbing pants, Chuck followed them, knowing from their body language that something was wrong. As they entered the room, the Chief sat straight up, thinking he was about to be attacked. The dogs passed the couch without a second look and went right to the door. Whining, Mack began scratching the front door, trying desperately to get out. Chuck quickly opened the door and nearly fell over the body of his wife laying at his feet. She was completely naked and there were welts all over her body.
“Holy Christ,” Chief Davidson said as he grabbed his radio and called for an ambulance.
Chuck dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse. He was entirely calm, though he didn’t know why. His entire focus was making sure the love of his life was alive and protecting her as best as he could. Feeling the weak pulse in her throat, he pushed the chief out of his way and barged back into the house. He grabbed the small basket beside the couch and brought it back to Barbie’s side. Pulling out a glucose meter, he quickly took her sugar level then returned to the kitchen to get insulin and a needle. Measuring a small dose, he gave Barbie a shot. He had nev
er seen numbers so high, so he wasn’t sure exactly how much to give her, but he seemed to recall from somewhere that giving too much - especially if the person were unconscious - was dangerous. He could only pray that he had given her enough to keep her alive long enough for the doctors to stabilize her. Chuck dropped the needle into the basket, knowing Barbie would yell at him later for not disposing of it properly. His hands began to shake just as the sirens from the ambulance broke the night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The blare of her cell phone woke Katie from a deep sleep at three thirty a.m. “Freeman,” she said sleepily.
“Get up, we got a survivor,” Michael’s tired voice came through the line. “I’m on my way to get you. Be there in ten.” He disconnected the phone as her heart began beating faster in her chest.
We have a survivor. What exactly did those words mean? Were there previous victims they didn’t know about? Had Barbie been found alive? As Katie pulled on slacks and a long sleeved t-shirt, she became more and more irritated at Michael and at the men in her life. Her boss had yet to contact her to tell her about this case. He had called Michael. The Chief had called Michael about the survivor, even though he had both of their contact information. She was getting really tired of being treated like a tag-along partner. Brushing her teeth and twisting her hair into her traditional bun, she thought, “As soon as Michael gets here, I’m going to have a few words with him.”
