by Sara Gauldin
Chapter 32
Genevieve sat on a stretcher behind the waiting ambulance. They were ready to leave, but somehow Genevieve had ordered them to stay put, so she could see what was going on. I stood next to the stretcher, trying to think of how to apologize for what happened to her. There wasn’t a way to approach it. I knew this was the calm before the storm.
From where we stood, I could see the broken man sitting in the back of the squad car. He thumped his head in a steady rhythm on the window, too hard for comfort. “He’ll hurt himself.”
“Let him.” Genevieve's throat was raspy. The finger marks were already forming bruises on her neck. I wondered how much more damage there was.
I let it go. If the perp went to trial, then we would have a better chance of finding out what made him tick. But the idea of him punishing himself for his crime wasn’t unappealing.
“Ms. Rich, we found something we think you should see.” Officer Bradly was as pale as a ghost.
I raised my eyebrows. “Let me guess, you found a body in the freezer.”
“Yes, but that’s not the find I was talking about.”
“Will you be all right here?” I asked Genevieve. The waiting EMT gave me a thumbs-up behind her back.
Genevieve scowled. “If you think I’ll set foot in that place ever again, you’ve lost your mind.”
Our talk would wait until later. Perhaps then I could at least have answers to give as an olive branch. “Understood.” I followed Officer Bradley into the cabin.
“It’s in here.” He pulled open a trap door in the floor. I could see the outline in the floor grunge where a rug had once hidden it.
We climbed down a ladder into a primitive root cellar. “I don’t want to think about what's crawling around in here.”
“No, you probably don’t,” Officer Bradley admitted.
As soon as my eyes adjusted to the dim light of a dying bulb, I could see the place contained many odd artifacts. An old metal desk on one side of the room had a picture of a photo from the camp, one with several of the same faces I had noticed earlier. A few of them had X’s over their faces. Over the desk was an old map of the campground.
A heavy metal chair was chained to the wall at the end of the room. I could see chains and handcuffs lying on the seat. There was blood on the seat and the back of the chair. There were more brown spots on the dirt floor under the chair legs. Where the chair’s legs touched the floor, several more scrapes were worn deep into the earth, making the chair sit much lower than it normally would.
A wooden frame that looked like the sort people would hang herbs on to dry was against the opposite wall. Clothespins attached various items. There were several pictures. I realized that they were the resume pictures from a few of the posts. Next to the smiling professional headshots was a second Polaroid picture or two of the victims’ tortured expression. Strips of leather also covered the rack. They were decorated with patterns, animals, and fantasy creatures. At first, they looked like something a skilled leatherworker would create as a custom order, but the hide was much thinner and a different texture than cowhide.
I put my hand over my mouth as the realization hit me. This was the missing flesh that the killer peeled away from the victims. “Can we get DNA off of this?” I asked.
“Maybe, but it looks like he cured it somehow. That might affect accuracy.”
“Well, we have to try.” I turned my back on the grisly display. Something about that picture was bothering me. Why were certain faces crossed out? I grabbed a flashlight and leaned closer to the picture to have a closer look. I saw Gerald New, smiling out, a freckled-faced kid with a wide grin, not the hardened criminal who was now in lock up. There was no X on his face. I narrowed my eyes, trying to examine the crossed-out faces. One of them was a young man with a mop of dark brown hair. His nose was narrow and his expression was serious. I realized that the man was very similar in appearance to our second victim, Jeffery Ellis. Another of the young men’s faces reminded me of Dana. Something about his chin and nose looked enough like her that I wondered if they were related.
“Do you think he was looking for victims to take the place of the campers?” I asked.
“I suppose it’s possible, but there are more faces crossed out than victims that we know of,” said Officer Bradley.
“This is true. And we know that the killer also targeted women, not just these male campers. Besides, Genevieve isn’t even from this community. It ruins some patterns we were looking for.”
“It does. I'll bag the picture as evidence, and you can have a better look at it back at the station.”
“Great. Is the M.E. coming for the body in the freezer?”
“She wants us to bring the whole freezer in on a rollback. We’ll just hook it to a generator for the trip. That way we have a better chance of preserving the evidence.”
“That’s great. I think I’ll have a look around the rest of the cabin before I go back to the station.”
“Please do. If there is something here to explain what happened with this guy and why he was doing what he was doing, we have to find it.”
I climbed back up the ladder, relieved to leave the root cellar behind. Every step felt heavy. The stress of the day was catching up to me. It was all I could do to climb the ladder. How could things get to this point in anyone’s life? Here this guy, Nate Spencer, or whoever he turned out to be, was here all along, festering and turning into something that was barely even human, and why here in the cybercrime's trail fallout? The two crimes had too much overlap. There had to be a connection somehow. After putting on fresh gloves, I stood in the center of the tiny cabin and looked around.
At first glance, I saw what I expected to see, a bare bachelor pad. There was a TV with a stack of adult videos next to a tired DVD player. An assortment of hunting and fishing catalogs were stacked next to a love seat that should have been condemned. A variety of hunting knives were displayed in a glass shadow box near the window. I took a picture and marked the whole collection as evidence.
The space was small, but the more I looked, the more I realized there were signs that this was no ordinary hunting cabin everywhere. Pressed between the pages of what looked like a family Bible, I found newspaper clippings that detailed the disappearance of each victim and the discovery of each body. More disturbing, there were other articles there, bits and pieces of the lives of young men and their families. There were marriage announcements and a few obituaries. A few published pieces were sharing the accomplishments of people. As I flipped through, I found the confirmation. A newspaper cataloged the philanthropy of the Vance family. The article mentioned Zachary Vance taking over the business from his parents. His name was circled.
“He was stalking all of them. But why didn’t he go after them directly?” I mumbled to myself, as I added the Bible to the list of evidence. It seemed likely that there would be other secrets inside.
The kitchen, if you could call it that, was little more than a single cabinet that housed a sink and a toaster. A small refrigerator hummed loudly next to the cabinet. I braced myself and opened it. It was mostly empty except for a few takeout bags. I photographed the bags and the attached receipt before I looked inside. I was thankful to see old Chinese food instead of human parts.
I opened the cabinet. There were a few containers inside for leftovers that never stayed. In the back corner, there were a couple of cups and a vase.
I remembered Bren, and I wondered if the monster had allowed some flicker of humanity forward to court her. Something had to tie her here. I reached into the cabinet and pulled out the vase, trying to imagine Bren here in this cabin, happy and in love, or just as captive as the person in the freezer outside.
Something inside the vase clinked against the glass. With my gloved hand, I extracted a small saw hack saw from the vase. Its blades were bent and mangled and were covered with something foul. I photographed it and put it in an evidence bag. I shuddered as I thought about what that saw had likely been
used for.
Chapter 33
The car carrying Nathan Spencer arrived at the police station before Agent Brooks and I returned. Commander Jennings stayed behind at the cabin with his team. He wanted to oversee the crime scene investigation. Who could blame him? It wasn’t every day that you stumble upon a serial killer’s lair right there in your district.
Brooks glanced over at me as we pulled into the parking lot. “That was some risky maneuver you pulled back there.”
“Really? He wouldn’t have reached me. I knew someone would take him out before he had a chance.”
“I envy your faith in the team,” Brooks said.
Something about the statement seemed off. I used to rely on my team before I stumbled into Ryan Kain and realized that nothing was what I thought it was. How was it any different now? If anything, I was further down the rabbit hole than ever. I sighed. “Sometimes, you have to take a leap of faith.”
“That was one heck of a leap.”
“Genevieve took a risk on me and I blew it. I mean I set her up to be kidnapped.”
“Ah, so it was guilt,” Brooks said.
“No, well, partly. It was the right thing to do. Nate Spencer had to be stopped.”
“I can’t argue that.” Brooks held the door open for me, and we walked in the precinct. “I’ll catch up with you later. I need to get a statement from Richards.”
“Oh, okay.” I hadn’t expected Brooks to leave me at the station when he knew I was upset about what happened to Genevieve.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.” Officer Miller came rushing toward us with a file folder. “You won’t believe this.”
“Believe what?” I asked.
“Things have been wild around here. Down in lockup, there was a fight. It was ugly. That Gerald New fellow had it out with Zachary Vance.”
I glanced through the glass door at Agent Brooks climbing into his car to leave. “What? How did they even get near each other?” I asked.
“Well, most of the patrol was out either looking for your FBI friend or headed to the killer's place. The guard didn’t know they knew each other, so he let both of them come to dinner at once. Well, Mr. New is at the hospital. I’m not sure if he’ll make it.”
“Well, it sounds like you can add assault to Zachary Vance’s charges. He may have a tough time buying his way free of that.” I tried to hide my revulsion at Zachary Vance’s name. It was likely his family was involved in my mother’s murder, and I had a feeling that Zachary was part of it all. It made me wonder what Dana had ever seen in him. I shook my head in disgust. “After he pulled a gun on a federal agent… This guy is a slow learner.”
“No kidding. I called the commander to let him know what happened, and he said you should talk to Vance again.”
“Me? I’m just a consultant.”
“Well, you were one of us not so long ago.” She pointed to her uniform. “It surprised me when you transferred out so soon.”
I sighed, thinking back to the first team I’d worked within this same department. “Yeah, when that job offer came it seemed like the right step to take.”
“That makes sense. I’d take detective if they offered it. Otherwise, I’ll be around here for the long haul. We have a talented team.”
“It’s an impressive team. I used to think that was the way it was everywhere. Believe me, that’s not the case.”
Officer Miller narrowed her eyes for a moment as she considered what I said. “This team needs to be strong to deal with this town.”
“That’s something I’m just realizing,” I admitted.
“Are you going to interview Vance?” Officer Miller asked.
I thought of going to the hospital after Genevieve, but she should be out of danger now. I thought of going back to the cabin to help with the investigation, but Genevieve had told me to help from here. “It looks like I will.”
“I’ll have the guards bring him up. I have to warn you, he was looking a little worse for wear earlier, but he declined any treatment.”
“I’m sure he deserved what he got.” I meant that. Part of me wished he was the one who was carted away.
***
Zachary Vance sat at the metal interview table sniffing to slow the flow of blood from his nose. His left eye was turning black, and his knuckles were bloodied. I looked at him through the two-way mirror as I made a list of what I wanted to ask him. It was better to let him wait instead of running right in.
“Do you want to talk to him?” Kirk Nelson asked.
“No, and yes. I think he has to be the key to this. He’s the common thread in too many situations. We need to know why.”
“I may have a part of that answer.” Kirk handed me a printout. “It looks like Dana’s murder may have been personal.”
I read over the printout. “Wow. He said she may have been giving inside information to Justin Jansworth’s company but this seems extreme.”
Kirk shook his head. “It doesn’t prove everything. These are just digital trails. It shows that they interacted, but none of these emails or chats are the proverbial nail in the coffin.”
“What are these?” I pulled out a stack of black and white photos from the file.
“They are just some surveillance shots. I think your killer is in a few of them.”
“Wow, you’ve been busy. And look, here he is in all of his glory.” I pointed to the picture.
Kirk smirked. “This should be good. I can’t wait to hear Vance explain this one.”
I put the photo back in the stack to save it for the right time. “So, do you think I can get him to confess?” I asked.
“I think we can get enough information to fill in the blanks. Although a confession would be the icing on the cake.”
“We? You want to sit in on the interview?” I asked. Kirk was a tech guy; I had a hard time picturing him as an interviewer.
“Well, since you got my CO kidnapped, and you don’t have a badge, I have to step in.” He held up the badge he kept on a lanyard around his neck.
I wrinkled my nose. “All right, I guess you have a point.”
“Do you think he’s had enough time to stew?” Kirk pointed at Vance.
Vance slumped over. His hands were cuffed. His expression was blank. “He has let himself go lately. I think it’s time to get the entire story.”
Kirk grinned. “This should be entertaining if nothing else.”
***
Kirk went into the interview room first with a list of basic questions. I wanted to see how Vance reacted to Kirk compared to how he had tried to get the upper hand with Genevieve and I. Kirk straightened his tie and adjusted the blazer he normally kept on the back of his chair. He looked the part of an FBI agent. He flipped through the notepad.
I watched through the window, waiting for the right time to join them.
“It says here your name is Zachary Vance. Is that correct?” Kirk pulled out his chair and sat down.
Vance nodded.
“For the record, please answer out loud.”
“My name is Zachary Vance.”
“All right, Mr. Vance. I am Agent Kirk Nelson of the FBI. I have a few questions for you about the incident earlier.”
“I didn’t do anything. It was my psycho half-brother.”
“I see. So for the record, Gerald New is your half-brother.”
“No kidding, we've met.”
“Were you aware that your brother was incarcerated here?” Kirk scribbled on the notepad. I wondered if his handwriting would be legible after typing everything all day for so long.
Vance barked a short chortle. “How would I know where he’s locked up? It’s not like that’s a new thing.”
“So, is that a yes or a no?”
He sighed. “No, I didn’t know.”
Kirk glanced up at Vance, barely catching eye contact. “And when was the last time you saw your brother, before tonight?”
“It’s been a few years.”
“So, you don’t kee
p in touch?”
“No, why would I?”
“Well, some families do,” Kirk smirked at Zachary Vance for a long moment.
Vance rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t call that guy family.”
“You know what I wonder, were you closer when you were younger?” Kirk looked at the paper, as though it was more interesting than the perp. He was better trained than I realized.
“We never lived together. I hardly knew him.”
“But you spent some time together.” Kirk took out the summer camp picture I’d given him. “Here, I see you went to the same summer camp.” He pushed the picture over, so Vance could see it.
Vance glanced away. “What does this have to do with a fight?”
Kirk Nelson looked up in surprise. “Right, so you admit to assaulting your brother?”
“No, what are you talking about?” Zachary Vance’s eyes bulged.
“Gerald New is in the hospital. You look like you should have gone with him. The guards say there was a fight.”
“You were asking about this summer camp picture.” He looked at the photo, still lying on the table with his lip curled.
“Oh, yes. It’s a nice photo, don’t you think?” Kirk was playing with his victim.
It was interesting to watch the technique, but I wanted to be the one asking the questions. I clasped my hands in my lap, biding my time.
“What’s wrong with you?” Vance shouted.
It was time. Kirk had brought him out of his shell. He would remember me from our last meeting when Genevieve and I had interviewed him. There would be no warm fuzzy feelings after we arrested him. But he’d been an idiot when he thought he could shoot us to make us leave him alone. I paused; my hand was already on the doorknob. There was a real possibility that he’d pulled the gun because he knew who I was, who my mother was. I couldn’t let those emotions come into the interview room.
