by Jan Sumner
Chapter 25
Mike Hansen had worked on it for days - statistics, similarities, patterns, M.O.’s, and felt he was ready to present the information to his boss, Norman Willoughby. Willoughby had been with the Montana Bureau of Investigation for over twenty years and was well-respected, both as a policeman and an administrator. He was known to be fair, but frank. If he had something to say, he’d say it.
Mike was nervous, because at this point the connection between Zane and Smyth was just a hunch and, the bureau didn’t operate on hunches, especially Willoughby. Nevertheless, he had to present what he had. Willoughby knew he wanted to talk about something, he just didn’t know what.
Mike arrived early, gathered up all his information and was at Willoughby’s office at the schedule time.
“Good morning, Mike, how are you?”
“Fine, Mr. Willoughby. Thanks for seeing me.”
Willoughby invited him to sit down at the conference table and got them some coffee.
“So tell me, what do you have here?”
Willoughby was more than aware of Mike’s past and how he had suffered at the hand of Jack Zane. He also knew there were some similarities between the crimes of Jack Zane and Matthew Smyth. What Mike hoped to show him was that there were far more than just similarities; these two were related…blood related.
“Again sir, thank you for this time, I know you’re very busy.”
Willoughby smiled and took a drink of coffee, “You’re right about that, so let’s get to it.”
“Well sir, as you know there were some similarities between the crimes of Zane and Smyth…but there’s more to it than that. I believe these two men are related.”
He knew this would get Willoughby’s attention and it did.
“Related? How so?”
“Admittedly, it’s part hunch right now, but if you will give me some latitude, I have no doubt I can prove it.”
Willoughby leaned back in his chair, put his coffee cup down and stared deep into Mike’s eyes, “And what in the world makes you think they’re related?”
Mike went through all the stats, similarities, crime commonalties, then finally had to tell him he formulated this theory on the fact they looked so much alike.
Willoughby couldn’t help himself, he burst out laughing, “Mike, haven’t we trained you better than that? They looked alike? You know people have told me I look a lot like Jackie Gleason.”
Mike knew it was a reach, but he had to pursue it, “Sir, please bear with me, I think when you’ve heard more, it will be clearer.”
Willoughby agreed to hear him out, but warned him it better have true merit. Mike had an excellent reputation with the bureau and this was the only reason Willoughby was indulging him.
Mike explained the history of Matthew Smyth and how he and Zane had actually crossed paths, even before Smyth was born, that, in fact, Zane could be his actual father. He told Willoughby that he believed Zane had raped Matthew’s mother, impregnating her and, she had kept it to herself; then tragically died giving birth to Matthew and Jonathan. It was characteristic of many of Zane’s crimes and they knew for a fact he had fathered children by several of the women he had attacked and the women either got abortions or raised the children in anonymity. But given this presumption, he was going to need some help in pursuing the DNA testing required to prove it. Willoughby was intrigued, but cautious.
“You realize of course, that if you’re wrong, you will have opened a can of worms and, we don’t like opened cans of worms, if you get my meaning.”
“Believe me sir I’ve given a lot of thought to that very thing. I know it could not only be embarrassing to the bureau, but devastating to those involved. I have not gone about this without due consideration. I think you know if I didn’t have a very strong feeling about this, I wound never have brought it up.”
Willoughby did know that and told Mike to pursue it, but to keep him posted and, if at any time he thought he was off track, or wrong, to terminate it immediately.
“Worms can turn into snakes and come back to bite you,” he said as Mike left the office. But Mike had gotten what he wanted - the go ahead. There was a certain excitement about that, which he would have to temper with caution.
Now that he’d straightened out the location of Zane, Jonathan felt more at ease about getting back into the book. He and Amy had laid everything out in sequential order and he was starting to see it come together. He would work on the book during the day and look forward to Amy coming over for dinner, watching a movie or just talking. Sometimes she’d stay the night, sometimes not, depending on her schedule at the university. Either way things had settled into a comfortable and creative routine. They were both happy with the arrangement, so far.
Jonathan had all the material and facts he felt he needed to make the book, interesting, provocative and if written well, chilling. He’d thought long and hard about what approach he wanted to take and what message he wanted to convey. Certainly no one who was aware of who Jack Zane was could think of him as anything but a monster, but beyond the obvious, what was he, as a writer, trying to express? How should he deal with his Great Grandparents being killed by this man, mother beaten, and then to find out his own brother was a serial killer. Then there were all the victims, how to arrange them, intersperse them, weave the tale and yet not make them sad and pathetic, because they weren’t. This was completely different from fiction. He could do what he wanted there, but this; this was a challenge, to maintain honesty and integrity, while telling the truth. He felt his biggest impediment would be to not constantly vilify Zane. That could be an easy crevasse to fall into and there was certainly a part of him that wanted to do that, but if this turned into a book devoted to demonizing Zane, it would be redundant and mind-numbing.
The more he thought about it, the more he believed this book had to be about survival. Every one of these victims had in his or her own way survived… that was the real story.
He’d decided to call the book, Surviving Death. To a great extent, that’s exactly what most of them had done, some right in the face of it. Unlike the other titles, Amy loved it, thought it was exceedingly appropriate. He was in the third day of dedicated writing when the phone rang. It was Mike Hansen. Mike had labored over what he was doing and knew he owed it to Jonathan to tell him of his suspicions. What he didn’t know was how he was going to tell him. Part of Mike couldn’t help but wonder if Jonathan hadn’t considered the possibility that Zane was his father. After all, Jonathan had done lots of research on Zane and knew his propensity for raping women, so there had to be some contemplation there. But even if he had considered it, who in the world would want to believe it. Therein was the problem, how was he going to broach this with him, knowing he wouldn’t want to hear it, and would not accept it…and who could blame him.
“Hello, Jonathan, it’s Mike Hansen.”
“Hi Mike, how are you and how’s the family? And by the way, thanks again for all your help in taking care of my brother. Whatever costs are involved just send me the bill.”
Mike could feel his stomach sink, this was going to be tougher than he thought.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see what I can do to keep the costs down. I know this has been very difficult on you and your dad.”
“Yeah, but it seems to be subsiding a little now. You know the press, when bigger fish come along to fry.”
“Yes, I sure do, I’ve been through it, and it ain’t fun.”
“So, Mike what can I do for you?”
Well, the time was at hand, and he still wasn’t sure how to say it.
“I was calling because I’ve been doing a little more background research on Zane, and…well, Jonathan I’m going to run something by you and I want you to know I’ve thought long and hard about this and believe me I would never bring it up if I wasn’t convinced in my heart it had significance.”
Jonathan felt a queasy feeling come over h
im, an anticipation of dread like he’d never had before. Filled with apprehension, he said, “What? What are you talking about Mike?”
“You’ve done a lot of research on Zane and probably know his patterns and methods better than I do.”
“Yeah, what are you getting at?”
“I’m sorry to have to ask this, but has it ever occurred to you that Zane might be…your father?”
There, he’d done it. Mike had no idea what to expect but thought it probably wouldn’t be good. He waited nervously.
Jonathan couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, but he could tell Mike was serious and sincere. He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t believe this was happening again. As if it wasn’t bad enough his brother was a murderer, now this implication his true father was too.
“I don’t know why you’ve done this, Mike, but I can tell you I’m greatly offended. I thought you and I had…a certain connection, but apparently I was wrong.”
“Jonathan, you have to believe I wouldn’t call you about this unless I was very sure it was true. And you’re right, we do have a connection. People had asked me to talk about Zane and the night my family was slaughtered before, but I never felt comfortable, until you asked me. That made this all the more difficult.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jonathan said sarcastically. “I tell you what, if I want to discuss this further, I’ll call you back. Otherwise, please don’t bother me again with this and, if you make this public knowledge without verifiable evidence…well, I’d probably contact my attorney, no, I’ll definitely contact my attorney.”
He hung up feeling depressed, empty and angry. Amy was coming over in an hour and he was going to have to calm down by then. He paced around his apartment trying to sort it out. He knew Mike wouldn’t call unless he had good reason. After all, he was a policeman, well trained, diligent and had been a victim of Zane. What possible ulterior motive could he have? Was it a veiled threat so Jonathan would keep his family out of the book? No, he was thinking crazy now. Mike was an up front guy and never would have consented to the interview, unless he wanted to. If all that were true, then there was only one possible answer.
Jonathan fell onto the couch, his head began to ache, his stomach twisting into a knot. He wanted to yell, scream at the top of his lungs, “My God, tell me this isn’t true.” With all his posturing and denial, he couldn’t shake the fact that Mike’s question had crossed his mind. There was a place, hidden deep in his psyche that had wondered the same thing. But whenever it reared its ugly head, he squelched it. He didn’t want to believe it, couldn’t believe it.
He lay on the couch mortified, when he heard the key turn in the lock…it was Amy. He quickly jumped to his feet and ran to the bathroom. He didn’t want her to see him like this, she wouldn’t understand and would ask questions. He just wasn’t up for it. She came in, yelled a hello and went to the kitchen to start dinner. Jonathan washed his face, tried to clean himself up so she wouldn’t be able to tell what he’d just gone through. He wiped off his face, combed his hair, then looked at himself in the mirror to make sure he looked okay.
He was suddenly struck by something, something familiar, a hint. He leaned into his reflection, staring deep into his own eyes. What was it? He thought. It looks familiar, funny I’ve never noticed it before. He bent closer, his face almost touching the glass. He jumped back, crashing into the wall, then slumping to the floor. If the eyes are truly windows to the soul, he’d just seen a glimpse of …the eyes of Jack Zane, lying deep, hidden all these years.
Amy, wondering what was wrong came to the door and asked if he was all right. He could not face her, let her know his terrible secret…not yet. He told her he was sick and needed to be alone. Reluctantly she left, telling him she'd call him first thing in the morning.
It wasn’t a complete lie, he was sick, heartsick. He made his way to the bedroom and crawled into bed. He felt weird, knowing Mike could be right and would soon prove it, then what? Visions and thoughts of his dad came flowing into his mind, he thought, hasn’t this poor man had enough pain and now this. The agony of it all was almost too much to bear, he didn’t know what to do. Should he call Mike back, should he forewarn his dad? He felt like he was coming apart, pulled in different directions, ripped at the seams. The thought that this…killer, this…personification of evil could be his father, he felt himself going insane, flopping around in bed, unable to accept the impending truth.
It was late now, the room black without a hint of light and he began to go to sleep out of sheer exhaustion. As he drifted into that haze before unconsciousness, he could see his dad, standing in the kitchen, making him one of those wonderful breakfasts…then he was not there.
