by Wren, John B
They both laughed and got in the car. “1644 is 10-8 on the road,
south on Mayfield,” said Sean into the radio.
“10-4”
“Out,” Sean drove south for a short distance the pulled into a strip
center and parked in a position as if he was watching traffic. He looked at Jim and said, “We have to talk for a minute and then we get back to the job.”
Jim looked curious and said “Okay, talk about what?” thinking he was about to be lectured.
“You should know, we are part of a huge family of families. Your uncle and my cousin are married, and there are more of us than you can count. We don’t carry cards, have picnics or wear T-shirts bragging about it, but we are family and we do look out for one another. Annette was and still is one of us and we all want to know what happened to her and where she is. I think we all feel that she’s dead and that the object now is to find the son of a bitch that took her. So we work together. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t give whoever it is the opportunity to cry foul and get off. If you or anyone else in our family hears or learns something, we follow the proper procedure and pass the info on to the right people and then back away. Let the guys upstairs at the station handle the case, and keep it clean.”
“We’re related?”
“Sort of, but distantly. We are Annette’s family, we are ‘Clan’. I would love to find the SOB that took her and have a minute or three in a locked room with him, but, and it is a big but, we want him caught, not just somebody who might have done this, but THE somebody who DID do this. And we want him to be tried, convicted and personally I want him executed.”
“I didn’t know Annette, not really. I saw her a few times and Dave
and I were at Heights High at the same time. Didn’t really give him much thought until he married my cousin, Clare. She is really torn up over this. And I would like to see it happen as you said.”
“Okay, let’s do our job and not get in the way of the detectives doing theirs. Agreed?”
“Yeah,” said Jim, “But I wouldn’t mind a minute or two with the SOB myself.”
“You’d have to buy a ticket and get in line, Jim, a very long line, there’s more of us than anybody ever thought. Family I mean.”
Jim mulled this over and said, “I remember stories about the family doing things, like that kid in California about a hundred years ago. Somebody killed him and when the system did not do their job, well the family did it for them.”
“Yeah, his name was Liam Rynne. The guy that killed him was found by the family, the Clan, and dropped in a pit for three years. When they finally told the police where he was, all that was left was his bones, the rest of him, well food for worms or rats, who knows.”
“So is the Clan still active, I mean are they involved in this case,
Annette’s disappearance?”
“I have had a few calls from some people asking questions. They are not interfering in the investigation, more like they want to help if they could.”
“So, who from the family is involved?”
“As I see it, the way this works is, we are a big collection of people. Some of us are cops, like you and me, others are lawyers, engineers, doctors, bus drivers, teachers or ditch diggers. We are a little of everything. When a situation has to be addressed, like this case, the ones that could be most effective in helping are invited to do something. Something like you may be asked to shadow someone because you being a cop would know how to do it and it would get done right. A lawyer may be asked for a little legal advice, but nobody has to do more than they can without being burdened.”
“So maybe I would be asked to follow somebody for a day when I’m not working?”
“Yeah, that’s the idea, and somewhere there is a group of older folks who decide what ‘Projects’ we may get involved in. As I understand it, if you have a problem, a serious problem, that you cannot deal with on your own, then you are eligible for a little assistance. Someone would have to know who to talk to. It’s not as easy as putting an ad in a newspaper. The family, or the Clan keeps an eye on things in general and when something merits the type of help that they can provide, they look at it. Annette’s case is in that class of situations that get the second look and maybe more. They control the money to pay expenses and they pick a team to run an operation. Kinda like when they caught that guy in Oklahoma and dragged his butt back to California and dumped him in the pit.”
“They organized that deal ?”
“Not really, that one was kind of the kick off for what we have today. We are not entirely like the Mafia, but in some ways we are.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well we have a senior council, a group of the older and more responsible people in the family. They get together or talk periodically and check the landscape, see if anyone in the Clan needs help, or is in trouble. They may pay a doctor bill here and there or help someone find a job, or like with Annette, help the system find the bad guy.”
“And pitch him in a pit?”
“That was a long time ago, today they may put out the word that a
search party is being organized and in need of help. They did that when
Annette went missing, we had a coupl’a dozen folks from around the
country just show up and help beat the bushes. And if you asked, they’d be back tomorrow to do it again.”
“If they found the bad guy, would they do the pit thing again?”
“Who knows, I guess if the system didn’t take care of the guy, the Clan just might. Anyway, the point of my telling you this is that you or I may be asked to do something, something perfectly legal, maybe a little shady, but not illegal.”
“Nothing illegal?”
“Again, we are not Mafia. We can get tough, but were are not gangsters. And I guess that we probably would be open to violating a civil right or two, if the need arose and the benefit was obvious. There was a situation in Pennsylvania a couple of years ago where a street gang roughed up an elderly couple. The gang was convinced to leave them alone, forever. It apparently involved a few broken limbs and a car disappearing, but they heard the message and now, now there is peace.”
The radio crackled to life announcing a traffic problem and Sean acknowledged the call and said to Jim, “Think about all this and we should sit down and talk more, soon.”
“Okay, I am very interested in learning more.”
They pulled out of the parking lot and drove for about three minutes in silence. Jim was looking out the window when they passed a doughnut shop, he turned and looked at Sean, but before he could say anything, Sean said, “Don’t go there.” They both laughed and Jim’s on the job training started.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY
They had not been to church in a while . . .
On June 14, 1992 Annette would have celebrated her eighth birthday. It was a very sad day in the Shelton house, she had been missing almost a full year. It is not something that goes away, the pain does not diminish, the sadness stays in the heart and the hope that Annette would someday come home is all that kept Dave and Clare from losing what is left of their sanity. Clare had cried herself to sleep many nights over the last year and Dave spent his free time trying to divert her attention from the pain that constantly enveloped both of them. They did not smile, they did not laugh, they did not spend time with friends, they were very much alone.
Clare baked a cake. Annette liked layer cakes that were chocolate on the top and vanilla on the bottom with chocolate frosting all over. She sliced the cake and put it on the front porch table and sat there looking up and down the street. A group of kids, Annette’s friends were playing outside and seeing Clare came over to her to ask if there was anything new.
“No, I’m afraid not. Today is her birthday, she’s eight and I wish she was here.” Clare’s eyes were red and swollen and a tear rolled down her cheek.
Danny touched her hand and said, “Maybe she is in heaven, that’s
what my dad thinks. He said she is too nice to be anywhere else.”
Clare almost smiled. “Please have some cake and remember her,” and she went in the house. The kids sat down and shared the cake and sang a very subdued Happy Birthday song and then went home.
Dave had gone out to get a few things at the store and when he got home had planned on taking Clare to church. He walked up on the front porch and saw the remains of a cake three slices still there and was thinking about that when Clare said, “I would like to go to church in a few minutes and then maybe we could walk in the park and talk.”
“Sure, I see someone had cake this morning.”
“Yeah, some of Annette’s friends were here. It was nice, they’re good kids.”
Dave noted her eyes were not as red as they had been and said, “I’ll put this stuff away and we can go.”
Clare said, “Okay, I’m ready when you are.”
They had not been to church in a while, and were greeted by a number of people when they arrived. After the mass, the crowd grew a little larger and they wanted to get away. They were a little curt with some answers to questions from friends and they got in their car and drove to the park.
As they walked around they passed a number of soccer fields and
baseball diamonds full of kids laughing and screaming, having fun. Clare looked a little sad but no tears. She was surfacing, coming to grips with the fact that Annette was gone and she had to go on. She squeezed Dave’s hand and the both of them felt some of the weight lift off their shoulders. When they got home, the rest of the cake had been eaten and there was a birthday card on the table signed by the kids. It said Happy birthday on the outside and inside they had written “We miss you” and they all signed it. Clare cried again, a different cry, a happy cry.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Don’t make me laugh, it hurts . . .
Tree lined streets with houses on one acre lots, bushes and flower beds partially obscuring the view from inside the sprawling colonial homes severely hampered anyone’s ability to observe activity on the street or on the sidewalks. As Averell was cruising the streets in this quiet neighborhood he saw a young girl, that he estimated was at least ten and maybe as much as twelve years old. She was almost perfect, definitely older than the last one he had done a year earlier, at least she was taller and looked older. “I like the way this one looks.”
“Very nice, and maybe her name is Sarah. The hair and the eyes are right.”
She had blond hair and blue eyes and she was wearing a bright yellow blouse, blue denim shorts and white shoes. Candice Brighton was walking around the block with her dog in when he saw her. The time was right for another session in the barn, everything had been made ready for just this sort of encounter. As he watched her walking and talking to her dog, his pulse quickened, his palms moistened and he started to breath heavier. This one, being older, should be tougher and definitely would last longer. “She will be harder to control, but I know that we can handle her.”
“Yeah, she is perfect, how are we going to do this?”
“We will get her at the corner, near those bushes.” He drove to the corner and got out of his SUV, leaving the door open. There were a
number of tall trees surrounded by bushes in the middle of a flower bed at the corner making his SUV barely visible from the immediate homes. He had a piece of note paper in his hand and he was staring at the street signs when Candice approached.
“Excuse me miss, but could you tell me where School Street is?” said Averell.
“Oh, I have seen it, but I don’t know where it is.” Her little dog was agitated and pulled at his leash. Candice pulled back.
Perfect thought Averell, as he approached her. “Do you think it would be that way,” as he pointed up the street. That distracted Candice as she looked in the direction Averell was pointing. “Or would you go that way,” he said as he was now standing next to Candice.
“I don’t know,” said Candice.
Averell put his hand on his chest and said, “Oh I have to find my mom’s new house, she is expecting me by 4:00 this afternoon and it’s already 3:45,” and he moved slightly closer to his SUV. Candice moved with him as if magnetized and drawn toward him. Averell mumbled something and Candice came closer and said, “ Pardon me, I didn’t hear what you said.”
Averell saw that the time was right and he turned toward Candice,
grabbed her arm and dragged her into the SUV. Candice was startled and screamed as she was shoved inside the vehicle. The dog was barking, but posed no threat. Averell ripped the leash from her hand and threw it out of the car.
“Shut up” said Averell as he turned and slapped her across the face. He pulled the door closed, grabbed a pull tie and bound her hands behind her and drove down the street slowly with the dog in pursuit. Candice was stunned, crying but did not scream again. “This will be good, it is going to be better than the last one.” He was starting to fantasize about what he could and would do.
As he turned on to West Road and started for the Interstate, the dog was left far behind and Candice started to fuss louder and was kicking the back of Averell’s seat. He pulled over, turned with a vicious snarl and slapped her again, then taped her hands and ankles and fastened her seat belt. “Now shut up”. He stared at her pushing his face as close to hers as he could. He was breathing hard and drool began to drip from his mouth. He turned and slowly started to move the SUV forward. When he reached the highway he turned west and headed toward Mentor and the farm beyond.
Candice was being difficult, she cried and would not stop. He slapped her and she cried louder. She would not stop crying. She kicked and cried, he could not control her at all. After getting into the barn, he opened the back of the SUV and pulled out a drop cloth. He placed it over a large crate and returned to the SUV. He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her out of the SUV. She seemed heavier now and he wrestled her over to the large crate and tied her arms down. He cut the binding at her ankle and was removing her left shoe when she kicked as hard as she could with her right foot. The treaded heel caught Averell on the left side of his lower lip. Her kick was well placed and blood spurted across the edge of the drop cloth covering the crate and on to the floor but missed Candice completely. He spun to his right and stepped away from the crate. Blood was dripping on the floor and Averell was furious. He went to his SUV and looked in the side view mirror. His lip throbbed and was bleeding profusely. He had to adapt, to change his plan. He took a piece of cotton and a six inch piece of duct tape and closed his wound, taping the cotton in place.
Now for that little bitch that kicked him. His eyes were wild and angry as he picked up his knife and approached Candice. “You little bastard, I’m going to cut you apart, one piece at a time.”
She screamed as loud as she could, loud enough to be heard and Averell swung the knife at her face without thought. He caught her across her right eye and nose. He quickly grabbed her right arm and started to cut in a sawing motion trying to cut it off. She screamed again and Averell slashed at her face again, cutting her through the right cheek and part of the left cheek. Candice fainted and Averell finished taking off her arm. He cut off her left arm and started to poke her with the knife, making shallow punctures on her chest and stomach. She would not respond, she could not respond she could would not draw another breath. Her remaining eye was open and saw nothing. Averell stood over her staring, panting, not thinking, he was still angry and wanted to hurt her again, but she would not feel it. He wanted to scream at her again, but she would not hear it.
“She’s gone, and we are finished here.”
“No, no, no, I want to see more, I want to see her heart.” Averell
fell to his knees with the knife in his hand staring at Candice partially
dismembered in a pool of her own blood. “She’s gone.” He hung his head and allowed the knife to drop to the floor.
“We should clean up now.”
“Yes, yes
, yes, we have to clean up, stick to the program, clean up and get rid of her.” He raised his head and slowly stood all of a sudden realizing that his lip hurt and was still bleeding. He knew that he had to have his lip looked at, probably stitched. He picked up her arms and threw them on top of her and rolled her up in the drop cloth.
“I should throw her away in the trash,” he was breathing heavy as he bent and picked up the knife.
“No, no we should be patient,” said Stelian.
“You’re right, we will bury her as planned and get back to Buffalo or better to Rochester and get this lip fixed.”
Averell scanned the barn and started picking up the tools and put
them away. He was still angry. He went into the house to the shower and turned it on. He paced back and forth in front of the shower, cursing under his breath. As he calmed, he stepped into the shower and rinsed the blood off his body and rinsed the clothes. He repeated the process only once and dried himself off then he dressed and returned to the barn.
“Damn it, this was no good, the little bitch kicked me, pissed me off, it was over before we had a chance to get started, before we could do it the way we wanted.” He was absolutely furious.
“We picked a bad one, didn’t we?” said Stelian.
“Yes, we did, this was no fun. Now we have to get rid of her and she wasn’t worth it. I just want to throw her away, in a damn land fill.”
“No, Averell, we have to put her where she will not be found.”
“The cemetery?”
“Yes, I think the cemetery is the perfect place for her.”
He drove out the driveway and started for the Alton Memorial Park, the cemetery that he used for Annette. On the way he passed a police car on the side of the road writing a ticket. “Too close to the cemetery,” he said.
“You’re right,” said Stelian, “But we have an alternate.”
“I know, that’s where I am now heading,” and he turned at the next light and drove a few miles south. “I’m trying to remember what time the service was scheduled for this one. The other one was at noon and this one was half past noon as I recall. So they should be finished by now or damn close to it.”
