by J. D. German
Chapter 32 – Body Parts
Tom Gutierrez was a happy man. He sat in a folding chair on the sidelines watching his 15-year-old daughter, Lorena, play soccer on a pleasant Saturday afternoon. She was good at it. He liked to believe she and his other daughter, Claudia, inherited their soccer skills from him. Although he spent an hour or two here and there showing them some moves before the divorce, like so many fathers he had been too busy to give them the attention they needed. Now it was too late. He got to be with them one Saturday a month, from 8 a.m. until 7 p.m., when he had to have them back to their mother. He couldn’t be late or his ex-wife would cancel his custody time for the next month. He talked to his lawyer about it, but he said that Tom had technically violated the custody agreement by getting them home late a time or two. If it happened too often, she could keep them way from him for good. And he didn’t want that.
The divorce was anything but amicable – in fact, the marriage wasn’t at all amicable either. His ex was a shrew from day two of the marriage. Her pleasant demeanor and occasional premarital sex had lured him into the den of an ogre . . . bitch, to use a more modern term. Once she had her two children, she closed her legs and locked them for good. But he was a good husband who believed God when He said thou shalt not commit adultery. His faith kept him from straying from the marriage bed – or two beds in their case, in separate bedrooms. But he was thankful he got to spend one Saturday an month with the girls. They adored him and hated their mother, which fed her anger even more.
His 12-year-old, Claudia was sitting beside him in another folding chair studying him. “Where’s your mind at, Daddy? You don’t look happy.”
Tom snapped out of his negative thinking and turned to her with a smile. “You’re right, sweetie. I let my mind go somewhere it doesn’t belong. Thanks for breaking me free.”
He had taught his girls, several years ago, that they didn’t have to let their mother’s nagging destroy a good mood. It was in their power to break free, and replace negative thoughts and feelings with positive ones. He was glad he had a chance just now to demonstrate this lesson to Claudia.
He looked at his watch. “When does your game start?”
“In 45 minutes, but Lorena’s game is almost over so we’ll make it in time.”
With his two girls playing on separate teams at different parks it sometimes made his time with them hectic, but they managed. Soon soccer season would be over and they could spend more time actually doing things as a family – an almost family. Not that any of them missed Mary Catherine – the name she insisted they call her by. These once a month custodies were the only time the girls could really let their guard down and didn’t worry that the next thing they said might set their mother off.
Tom felt a prickling at the back of his neck. His hair was standing up. He had learned by experience not to ignore this primitive self-preservation reflex. Somebody was watching him. Whoever it was, he didn’t want them to know he sensed them, so he turned to face Claudia directly and talked about her soccer team while he scanned his eyes back and forth. He saw nothing there, but when Lorena broke free from the pack on her way to another goal, it gave him a reason to stand up and cheer while he looked around. He thought he saw a flash of motion beside a car in the parking lot, but it disappeared from view as soon as he saw it. He unbuttoned his jacket so he could reach his gun easily, just in case. He definitely didn’t want to start a shootout in a crowd like this, but he had to be ready. Just then Lorena ran off the field to him.
“Did you see that last goal, Daddy? That was a move you taught me.”
“I sure did Lorena. I saw all three of your goals today. Keep that up and you may get a college soccer scholarship. . . . Let’s get moving. We have to make it to Claudia’s game.” As they climbed into the car Tom took one last look around. Nothing there, and the prickly feeling is gone. Maybe it was my imagination.
They just had time to finish their pizza at Poppa Johns before Tom had to rush them home – their mother’s home. On the way Lorena looked at him. “Did . . . did you know mother is seeing someone, Dad?”
“No, no I didn’t. Is it serious?”
“I don’t know . . . Maybe.”
Tom was dying to ask her what the man’s name was so he could check out his background, but he bit his tongue. “What do you girls think about him?”
“He’s nice. Brings mother flowers and candy for us. But I don’t think she’s serious about him.”
“You don’t think she’s serious, or you don’t want her to be serious?”
“Both, I suppose. We don’t want anyone around to replace you. We would never let that happen.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, but Mary Catherine is probably lonely and wants some companionship.”
“No, she just wants someone else to boss around, to control.”
“You’re probably right about that. . . . Well, here we are, with six minutes to spare.”
Before the girls got out of the car they each wrapped their arms around Tom’s neck and told him they loved him. As they walked to their house the tears came to Tom’s eyes, as they always did.
As he drove back to his apartment Tom was too absorbed in his emotions to notice the car following him. He might have noticed if he was alert and watching his rear view mirror – but the driver was very good at moving in and out of traffic to keep out of his field of view. When Tom turned into his gated apartment complex the other car continued on down the street. But at the next intersection the driver doubled back toward the apartments and pulled up in an alley behind the rear fence. The driver parked in the shadows, left the car, and nimbly scaled the fence, dropping silently on the inside of the complex. The hooded figure sauntered casually along the walkway that led to Tom’s apartment, looking every bit like one of the residents out for an evening stroll.
When Tom turned the light out, the stalker moved quickly around to the back and scaled a drainpipe to the second floor balcony. Patio door locks were more difficult to pick, but to someone as well-trained as the stalker, it was a minor inconvenience. Two minutes later the stalker became an intruder inside Tom’s apartment.
Tom was about to fall asleep when he felt his hair stand up again. His body and mind immediately went into the alert mode as he strained to hear even the faintest sound. He lay still in bed, his muscles coiled to respond in an instant once he identified the nature and location of the threat. He sensed motion near the foot of the bed and quickly rolled to the right, landing on his feet facing the intruder. At that instant the intruder shined a bright flashlight in his eyes, temporarily blinding him. As he back pedaled trying to reorient himself he felt a massive blow to his head. In less that a second he was flat on his back, out cold. It that state he didn’t feel the arms dragging him into the kitchen, or the bite of the duct tape used to truss him hand and foot.
As he regained consciousness he realized he was taped to a chair. He tried to focus his eyes on his attacker, but his vision wasn’t working right. He saw a face in front of him and heard someone say “Oh my, I must have knocked you cockeyed. Your right eye is looking way off to the right while your left eye is trying to focus on me. Try closing your right eye.”
Tom struggled to put his thoughts back together, to make sense out of what was happening. He closed his right eye and looked at his attacker. “You! You’re supposed to be in prison!”
Zarah laughed and replied, “You can’t keep a good killer locked up. The smart ones – like me – will find a way to get out. Well here I am, free as a bird, and ready to avenge Alexei’s death.”
“I don’t know anything about that. I left the case after you were sent to prison. I don’t know what happened to Alexei.”
“You may not know anything, but Lynn Preston, knows. I think she killed him, maybe at his hideout in Wisconsin. So it’s really about getting Lynn to talk – which is hard to do without her cooperation. But to save your life, I think she will cooperate.”
“Don’t bet on it.
She won’t believe you have me. And if she does, she’ll come in with the cavalry, guns blazing.”
“How will she know where you are? You don’t think you’re still in your apartment, do you? Oh, I forgot. You can’t see a damn thing.”
Tom closed one eye and looked around. “Where the hell am I?”
“Someplace she will never find you. Now let’s talk about getting a souvenir for her so she knows you’re alive.” Zarah held up a meat cleaver and chopped down on the chair arm. It took Tom two seconds to realize she just cut off his index finger. Two seconds later the pain hit him and he screamed.
When Lynn showed up at work Monday morning she had a small package on her desk. There was a note wrapped around it that had been opened and read by the receptionist. Lynn spread it flat on her desk. It was addressed to David Cramer at Cramer Security and Investigation Company:
Mr. Cramer.
This package is intended for delivery to Mrs. Lynn Preston. I do not know her current address, but I do know her husband was associated with you before his untimely death. Please see that Mrs. Preston receives the contents of the package.
A note from Dave was attached to the letter saying that the package had been scanned for explosives and was safe to open. Lynn slowly unwrapped the package and removed the lid from the box inside. Then she screamed.
Dave and several others crowded around Lynn’s desk, studying the contents of the box. “It’s an entire index finger . . . from a right hand. It was severed by a sharp instrument in a single stroke – there aren’t any jagged edges. What we don’t know is who the finger belongs to.” Dave looked at one of his technicians. “Can you get a scan of the fingerprint?”
“I’ll be back with my laptop in a couple of minutes.”
After he scanned the print they all waited with held breath until the match from the FBI’s Automated Fingerprint Identification System, AFIS, came through. Lynn was the first to react.
“No. Nooo! It’s Tom Gutierrez. Someone cut off his finger!”
Dave assessed the situation immediately. “This is proof of life . . . proof that someone is holding Tom captive.”
“How do we know if he was alive when it was cut off?” Lynn asked.
“The wound continued bleeding after the trauma. So he’s alive . . . At least he was when the finger was severed.”
“What do we do now?”
“I expect we will get another message from them with their demands.” Dave looked around at the others. “As of now we are on high alert. No one goes in or out without an I.D. badge.”
That afternoon an email came to the CSIC internet address. When the receptionist saw it she forwarded it to Dave and Lynn. As Lynn read it tears started flowing.
I have Tom Gutierrez tied to a chair. I can do whatever I want to him and there’s not a thing you can do about it. More body parts will arrive tomorrow unless Mrs. Preston calls me on my throw-away cell phone by 6 p.m. today at 555-861-3013.
Zarah Savvin
Two minutes later Dave burst into her office. “Is this Zarah who I think it is? Alexei Brusilov’s accomplice?”
Lynn tried to get control of her emotions. “Y . . . Yes, it’s her. The one who was sneaking around at Jack’s cabin. The lady in black from my dreams. What am I gonna do, Dave?”
“Before we can come up with a plan you need to make the call so we know what she’s got planned. Come, use my office phone. I can set it up to record the conversation.”
The woman picked up on the third ring. “Lynn Preston I presume?”
“Yeah, it’s me. And if you do any more to Tom, I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself.”
“Bold talk when I’m the one holding the cards.”
“What do you want?”
“You, of course. I’ll exchange what’s left of Mr. Gutierrez for you. Then I can cut you into pieces slowly – very slowly. . . . Is that how you killed my Alexei?
Without thinking Lynn answered “No. I tied him up in his HumVee and sent it to the bottom of the lake at his place in Wisconsin. I don’t know if he used up the trapped air or froze to death first. Either way, he paid for killing Jack and my granddaughter.”
Zarah was silent for a few moments, imagining what Alexei’s death must have been like. Then she yelled at Lynn. “You will pay for that!” and hung up.
Lynn sat there frozen with the phone in her hand . . . until Dave took it from her and hung up.
“What have I done, Dave? Signed Tom’s death warrant?”
“No, I don’t think so. She still wants you – and Tom is her only leverage to make that happen. No, she’ll keep him alive to trade for you. She’ll send another email any minute now.”
“If I knew where she and Tom were, I’d give myself up right now. Tom’s got a family and I have no one. If I cause his death I couldn’t go on living.”
“This is Zarah’s sickness, not yours Lynn. She’s a psychotic killer with no conscience. Don’t heap the blame on yourself.”
Lynn didn’t answer him – she couldn’t. She was crying too hard to say anything.
They didn’t hear from Zarah that day, or the next. On the third day a courier delivered another package from her. Dave called Lynn and asked her to meet him down in the lab. She arrived right on his heels.
“What is it? Something else from her?” Lynn never wanted to say Zarah’s name again. It made the threat a little less intimidating.
“Don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet. It might be a bomb for all I know.” He handed the package to one of his technicians with orders to x-ray it.
The x-ray revealed that it was another body part – a foot.
Lynn screamed out in her anger. “Ahhh! No, no, no! This isn’t happening. It’s one of my nightmares. Come talk to me Jack so I know it’s a dream.”
She didn’t see Jack, but she heard his voice in her head.
It isn’t a dream, Lynn. It’s real. But if you’re going to be any help finding Tom, you need to rise above your emotions. Put your rational mind back in control.
Lynn nodded her head in response. Dave watched as her face turned stone cold. The tears disappeared, the emotions fell away.
“Alright. What now, Dave?”
He turned to the technician. “Unwrap the package to see if there is anything useful to us. When you’re done come up to the conference room.
“Come with me, Lynn. We’ll put together a strategy team in the conference room and explore our options.”
“What options?”
“We won’t know until we start brainstorming the problem.”
Dave gathered his best experts together in the conference room, along with pencils and pads, coffee, soft drinks, and a large plate of sandwiches. “We might be here awhile so I had some food and drink brought in. Let me start by bringing you all up to date on where we are on this problem. . . .”
Twenty minutes later everyone knew as much as he and Lynn did about the situation with Zarah and Tom. Most had filled a page or two with notes. One of them asked “So we haven’t gotten any communication from this woman since she hung up on Mrs. Preston?”
“That’s correct . . . unless there’s a note in the latest package. Our forensic tech is examining the package now. As soon as he has something he’ll let us know.”
As if on cue the tech entered the room. Everyone looked at him expectantly. He was a little shy so Dave asked “Well, what did you find, Darren.”
“There’s good news and bad news. The bad news is that, like the finger, the foot was cut off while the . . . the, uh . . . ‘patient’ was still alive. It looks like it was done with a small chain saw.”
Everyone except Lynn cringed at the news, imagining the pain if it happened to them. Lynn focused her hardened look on Darren. “Well, what’s the good news.?”
“It’s not good news really, but it might be. I don’t really know.”
Lynn barked at him. “Out with it! What is it you are struggling to say?”
That caused him to cringe a bit
.
Lynn apologized. “Sorry. I’m not usually that blunt.”
“Yes ma’am. I understand . . .”
She barked again. “So say it already!”
“There was a note inside the wrapper. . . . Here, you read it.”
Lynn unfolded the note and read it to the others.
I have decided to make you suffer even more, Mrs. Preston. I’m a patient person. I can get to you anytime I want to. So I’ll continue to send pieces of Tom until he is no longer alive. At some point his heart will give out I imagine, but he’s a strong man so it may be awhile.
They all sat motionless. No one wanted to be the first to speak. Finally Dave spoke.
“This is now a police matter. We don’t have the resources for a full investigation. I’ll call Matt Murdoch, Chief of Detectives and an old friend from my FBI days. He has the pull to get anything done, and he doesn’t let rules get in the way. He once told me that rules were for when you run out of brains.”
Lynn asked, “Can he get his people on this immediately? I hear they’re pretty busy over there.”
“He’ll make it happen.”
An hour later Murdoch and his team arrived at CSIC. Dave had already set up the conference room as a command center with computers, large-screen TV monitors, and a dozen throw-away cell phones in case they wanted to make some untraceable phone calls. More sandwiches, drinks, and coffee were waiting for them.
They started with the briefing from Dave that he gave his own people earlier. Then Dave stepped aside and let Murdoch take over. “My people and facilities are at your disposal, Matt. If we don’t have it, we’ll get it here pronto.”
“Thanks, Dave. I’d like to start by interviewing everyone who is involved in this, starting with Mrs. Preston. Is she available? I understand that she and Mr. Gutierrez were close friends. Is she in any shape to talk?”
“Oh yeah. She got past the emotions and is now in her emotionless analytical mode. And she’s very bright. . . . I don’t know if I should tell you this, but just between us, she is also an ace hacker. She can get into pretty much any computer system, pull out information, and leave without a trace. . . . Just in case you need that sort of thing.”
Matt smiled and nodded. “Who knows where this will lead. Would you have her brought into a spare office so we can talk privately.”
Dave pointed. “It’s that office across the hall, and she’s waiting for you.”