Hunting Michael Underwood

by L V Gaudet

  “They-,” Donald starts and breaks off, looking confused and a little lost.

  “We haven’t found her remains, but we have every reason to believe your wife was murdered.”

  Donald’s eyes drop to study the photos on the table between them. For the first time in a very long time tears burn at his eyes, turning them red and watery. He looks up from the photos at Jim.

  “How-? Who-?” He’s lost for words. The worse possible scenarios are going through his mind.

  “The man we believe took her was rumoured to have kids, but he had no kids. There is no record of him ever having kids.”

  Donald swallows, trying to pull that small piece of hope from the detective’s words. “You said you think one of them is alive.”

  Jim nods; his expression grave. It does not give the man sitting across from him any relief.

  “We think the man who had them raised them as his own. We need a DNA sample from you to confirm he’s your son.”

  “My- son- Brian.”

  The old man shuffles in through the heavy front door of the Bayburry Street Geriatric Home, pushing the door open ahead of him. His thin frame seems too weak for the weight of the door, but it swings easily enough.

  He lets the door swing closed behind him and looks around the gaudy reception area. There is no one in sight.

  Careful to lift his feet so they make no sound, he moves to a vantage point where he can see into the Director’s office. It’s empty.

  With a small smile, he moves off in the opposite direction that she had led Jim and Lawrence previously to visit Marjory.

  There, he slips through a door much like the other. Only, this one does not open to a hospital-like reception counter or soundproofed reinforced steel and glass locked door.

  The bed and breakfast-style Southern plantation charm continues on past this door. Here, a secondary reception area with funereal flowers and paintings greets visitors along with well worn large cushioned chairs and once elegant tables. Two wide open doorways lead to separate wings. This is where the residents who do not need to be sedated and locked away live. This side is for those who are still sound of mind.

  The old man takes the left doorway, shuffling down the hallway of the men’s wing and stopping and waving at two residents playing cards. He gives them a curt nod and turns, making his way back.

  One of them gives him a confused look. The other glowers, clenching his jaw angrily and bending the cards in his fist.

  He is just going through the wide doorway when the Director of the Bayburry Street Geriatric Home steps out from the other wide doorway as if she had been waiting for him.

  “Mr. McAllister, you know you can’t just go roaming and visiting random residents without checking in. We have rules here. You must check in before visiting anyone, and you can only visit those who have you on their list.”

  Miss Krueger gives him a look suitable for scolding a truant schoolboy.

  “Just saying hi to the chaps,” William says, shuffling on through the door to the front reception area with Miss Krueger following on his heels.

  “More like causing trouble and upsetting Mr. Porter. You know he doesn’t like you, so why do you insist on stopping by to wave at him every time you come to see Marjory?”

  “That’s why.” He smirks the toothless smile of a job well done.

  “We haven’t seen you in a few days Mr. McAllister. I’m afraid today is not a good day to see her.”

  William stops in his tracks, turning slowly with a scowl.

  “I am here to see Marjory.”

  “Maybe you should come back tomorrow. She is not having a good day.” Miss Krueger stands firm.

  William turns, making his way to the door leading to the locked ward. “No.”

  He pushes his way through the door to the hospital reception area. Karen is not there today. The nurse who had tried to help Mrs. Bheals and Marjory is there instead. She looks up with a startled look at the elderly man and her boss coming in.

  “Mr. McAllister, I think it would be better if you come back tomorrow when your wife might be more herself. After all, we haven’t seen you in days.”

  He stops and turns, giving her a hard stare that chills even the hard-hearted Director of the home.

  The nurse swallows, seeing the flash of fear in her boss’s eyes. It gives her a new respect for the kind old man who has come to see his wife every day without fail until these past days.

  He turns back without a word, moving towards the locked door and waving to the nurse to open it.

  She glances fearfully at her boss, who nods the go ahead. She scrambles to comply, almost dropping the keys when her boss speaks as she is fumbling to put them in the lock.

  “Maybe you should accompany Mr. McAllister.”

  “But, the desk. . .”

  “Will still be here.”

  Her mind is spinning as she opens the door and her boss exits the other way, retreating away from Mr. McAllister’s wife.

  She really is afraid of him. I can’t believe it.

  “This way Mr. McAllister.”

  “I know where my wife is,” he grunts, pushing past her.

  They move down the hall. He pauses outside an open door, looking in at Mrs. Bheals with a frown. She looks just as she did after her attempted escape after Jim and Lawrence’s visit. She is sitting slumped and motionless, strapped into a wheelchair there is no need to strap her into, staring vacantly ahead, her head leaning limply to one side and thick strings of drool hanging down from her slack mouth. The sharp intelligence is completely gone from her eyes.

  William turns away, quickening his pace, hurrying down the hall to Marjory’s room.

  The nurse looks too, sadness passing over her face at the pathetic state of the woman.

  I have to find some way to contact her family, she decides. This place will kill her if I don’t. It may already have, in mind anyway. I don’t believe she is lost inside herself like the others. I have never seen that lost look on her face.

  She hurries to catch up to William.

  William stops at Marjory’s door. His body tenses and he clenches his fists. He turns to the approaching nurse, his furious look freezing her in her tracks.

  “What have you done to her?” His voice is cold and low.

  He moves in quickly to Marjory’s side. She is strapped down to a wheelchair like the other woman. Her head is tilted, her body slumped, and her glassy eyes staring vacantly ahead at nothing.

  He pulls out a cloth handkerchief and gently wipes away the thick strings of drool hanging from her slack mouth.

  “Marjory, what have they done to you?”

  The nurse enters the room nervously, keeping her distance.

  “The Director thought she should be kept sedated for a few days,” she says apologetically.

  “Why?” William’s age-cracked voice is cold. “What gives you the right to do this to her?”

  “She was agitated, saying all kinds of stuff that made no sense.”

  William turns to her. “Why?”

  The nurse blanches. She swallows the lump of fear in her throat.

  “She had visitors. They upset her.”

  “Visitors. More than one.” William studies her reaction. “Who?”

  “I don’t know. Two men. I heard they were police or something.”

  “What did they look like?”

  “One is really fat. The other one is tall and skinny. Kind of looks like a buzzard.”

  William nods, his expression still grim. “I know who they are. So you decided to do this to her.”

  The nurse shakes her head. “The Director.”

  She moves closer, wanting only to run away, lowering her voice and glancing nervously at the open doorway. She whispers.

  “Mr. McAllister, I think you should get your wife out of here. Your wife doesn’t belong here. It’s not healthy for her here.”

  William nods. “Leave us alone.”

  Lawrence looks at Jim seriously. They
are driving back from their meeting with Donald Downey.

  “I think we ruined that guy back there.”

  “Maybe,” Jim says. “I can’t work up much sympathy for a man who didn’t even try to find his kids. You’ve got your story though, some of it anyway. Missing persons cold case solved. The fates of Madelaine Downey and her two children, Brian and Stephanie, revealed. Prolific serial killer Jason T. McAllister murders victim and raises her kids as his own, teaching one of them to kill, raising a new serial killer.”

  Lawrence turns his gaze to the road ahead. “Maybe.”

  “It doesn’t feel complete.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  Lawrence looks at Jim again. “Michael sure had a lot of interest in Jane Doe.”

  “She was a witness. So was Katherine Kingslow. He killed them both, got rid of the only witnesses who can testify against him. We have no proof he did anything. We have nothing to tie him to Jason McAllister.”

  “Except now the DNA from Michael’s dad, proving he is really Brian Downey.”

  “It’s not against the law to be a kidnapping victim.” Jim’s grimace is angry. “I know he was involved in those women who were kidnapped and murdered. I know he is involved with the graveyard in the woods. One way or another he is going down. They both are, Michael Underwood and Jason T. McAllister.”

  “You mean to kill him.”

  Jim’s lips tighten in response.

  There is a silent pause before Lawrence speaks again. “Jane Doe. She’s his sister, Cassie McAllister, Stephanie Downey.”

  “You think so?”

  “I’m positive. You didn’t see the resemblance to the girl in the photo?”

  Jim grunts. “Maybe, hard to tell. Everyone sees the resemblance when they want to. I’ve seen it too many times.”

  “I feel it in my gut.”

  “Let’s test that theory. While they compare Michael’s DNA to Donald, they can compare Jane Doe’s too. We will see if we get a match.”

  36David McAllister

  Ryan knows what Jason means by taking him home. He steels himself mentally before he moves. When he moves, it’s with explosive force, charging Jason and slamming him into the wall with brute savagery.

  “Do you think I’m stupid? You came here to kill me.”

  The force knocks the wind from Jason. He struggles to push back against the younger man’s strength, choking for air.

  “No, not yet,” he wheezes out. “Not if I can avoid it.”

  He breaks free and the two men stand their ground, sizing each other up. His breath is coming back.

  “Right now, I want to know how bad it is. How far do I have to take it to clean up this mess? Like my father said, we clean up only what we have to. Too big, and you make bigger waves. Someone notices.”

  “What about Elaine?”

  “She won’t be found.”

  “You buried her.” Ryan shakes with the anger filling him, the pain of loss the only thing keeping a dark curtain of rage from shutting out the world. His face twists with the pain and anger warring inside him. His hands twitch with the urge to tear the man apart, his lifelong fear of him forgotten.

  “No, but you will.”

  “How- how did you? Did she-?” The image of her broken body fills him with pain a thousand times worse than a knife stabbing him in the heart.

  “Relax. She’s alive. She’s with her friend, the guy from the slaughterhouse.”

  “Trevor.” Anger burns brighter in Ryan’s eyes. His fists clench into hammers ready to pound the life out of any man who gets in his way.

  Jason studies his face for clues to how much he knows about Elaine’s and Trevor’s relationship.

  “Are sure you are okay? You could have a concussion.” Trevor studies Elaine’s head, gently feeling the lump on her head. They are the in living room at his house.

  She winces with the sharp pain brought by the slightest touch.

  “I’ll be fine. It’s just a bump.”

  “Are you sure Ryan didn’t do this to you? If he hurt you-…” It’s a calculated threat, meant to seal her trust. He knows Ryan could not have been home yet to lay a hand on her.

  He gives her a worried look.

  “I just fell and banged my head. He wasn’t even home yet.”

  “So why call me then?”

  I just needed to get away from there for a little while. To get some time to think without Ryan. But she can’t tell him this.

  “I-I’m just feeling so confused. He won’t be home for hours,” she lies. “I didn’t think I should be alone after hitting my head , just in case, and he doesn’t have a cell phone. So I called you.”

  Trevor frowns, not believing her but unsure if she’s telling the truth.

  “Then you should see a doctor. Were you dizzy? Did you lose consciousness? Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

  Elaine feels a surge of panic. I can’t go to the hospital. They would ask too many questions. They might find out we aren’t who we say we are. Ryan would go to jail.

  “I’m fine, really.”

  His stare is making her uncomfortable.

  He knows I’m lying. He doesn’t know what about, but he knows. I have to tell him something.

  Hesitantly, she starts making up a story. There are some elements of truth, but she doesn’t dare tell him the real truth. I can’t tell him about Jason McAllister or about Ryan and me.

  “We had a fight this morning before he went to work. We’ve been fighting a lot lately. I-I just needed some time. I wasn’t ready to face him when he came home tonight.”

  “Stay here tonight, with me.”

  She meets his eyes, hers full of confusion and worry, his hopeful and urgent.

  Ryan looks at Jason. “What are we going to do?”

  “Not me, you.” Jason’s expression is calm. Inside he is anything but. “You are going to carry on like nothing unusual is happening. Only one man knows I’m here.”

  And he spent a lifetime protecting my mother and father. He won’t turn on them now, even if he doesn’t feel the same loyalty to me. He was my father’s Anderson.

  “Sooner or later Kathy will come back to you,” Jason finishes.

  “Elaine,” Ryan reminds him.

  Jason nods. “You are going to have to sort out your relationship yourself. We are going to have to find a way to make sure she is not a threat.”

  “You mean if she leaves me for him.”

  Jason sees the look of pain and loss in the younger man’s eyes and is surprised by it. He really cares about her.

  “Yes. She knows too much.”

  “She won’t say anything.”

  “I hope not. We can’t leave loose ends.”

  “She doesn’t know anything.” Ryan’s look is hard, a warning.

  “If she comes back to you it won’t be a problem.” It will also make it easier to make you both disappear.

  It’s Ryan’s turn to nod. “What’s next?”

  He can’t help the nervousness coursing through him. He spent his life living in terror of this man who once towered over him when he was a frightened child. Now they are sitting here, impossibly on a level field, discussing the future.

  He looks at Cassie, sitting quietly in a corner, sweet little Cassie. He turns his attention back to Jason, but not before Jason noticed.

  “You carry on, like I said,” Jason says. “Go to work, come home, spend time with your woman.”

  While you still can. Jason can’t help the regret he feels, the betrayal of the man who was a son to him.

  “I have another job. I’m supposed to leave tomorrow, but I don’t think I should.”

  “Are you worried about the organization?”

  “I don’t think I can leave her alone right now. Not when I have to try to get her back.”

  “You have to go. If you don’t, it will make you look like you are not in control. Or worse, like you don’t trust them.”

  “I’ll take her with me then.”
/>   “Don’t be stupid. Taking her before clearing it with Anderson will be her death. You know that.”

  Ryan paces like a caged animal, grabbing at his head and rubbing it hard in frustration.

  “If I leave her behind I lose her, if I take her I lose her. What do I do?”

  “Do what you have to.”

  “Are you staying here to watch her?”

  “No. I have other things I need to do. I’ll keep in touch. Step carefully.”

  “Where are you going?” Ryan looks lost. He feels lost. He needs help and he knows it.

  “I have business to take care of.”

  I’ll be back to take care of business here. With one last look at his son, he leaves.

  Jason walks across the street and gets into his truck. He sits there for a moment, then lashes out, pounding the dash with his fist, his face twisted in frustration.

  “I should stay, watch them, assess. David is a liability. It’s probably too late to save them, but maybe I can keep Cassie safe, and Mom.”

  His thoughts turn to the kid, an innocent who got caught up in this.

  “Damn!” He pounds the dash again, starts his truck, and pulls out from behind the house, driving off down the street.

  Ryan stares at the closed door, indecisive.

  Do I go after her? Find her? Then what? I’ll beat Trevor to a pulp. She won’t forgive me. But waiting here for her will be torture.

  “Augh, what do I do?” He stops, clenching his fists angrily, his thoughts turning now to Cassie.

  “He kept her from me. He knows where Cassie is, he admitted it. She’s alive and he didn’t tell me where.” He starts pacing again, his movements quick and angry.

  “He won’t tell me. He will never tell me.”

  Images of little Cassie dance in his mind, the little girl playing out in the sunshine, picking flowers, running through the long grass, only her head bobbing above it visible.

  Cassie shrieking. A dark pall over everything as if the clouds know to block out the light to match the mood.

  Jason’s angry voice yelling something he can’t make out. The little girl cries out. The sharp yelp of the dog. She comes racing into the house, past him, and ducking behind the chair to hide.

  Ryan is David again, just a boy. He looks down at his boy hands, not large, with the calluses that will make them hard already beginning to form from the hard farm work.