by KJ Kalis
“It had to be. He went to work just like he normally did, but he didn’t come home.” Her voice cracked. “And now, I don’t know what to think. Where is he?” She said, her eyes lifting and looking at each of them, searching for answers they didn’t have.
Kat’s heart ached. She couldn’t imagine what Catherine was going through. She had lost her first husband, Steve, Jack’s father, but she had been betrayed. Kat was sad when she found out, but at least she knew he was in jail until the day he was killed. Catherine had no idea where Ben was. The not knowing was impossible to grasp.
Kat glanced over at Van, wondering what he was thinking. “Okay, I think we have all the information we need right now,” he said, standing up.
“What happens next?” Catherine asked.
She directed the question at Van. Kat hoped he had an answer because she didn’t. “We are going to go to Grand Ridge College and see what we can find out. Is there a number we can use to reach you if we find out anything?”
Catherine pressed her lips together. “You are going to call me with information?”
Kat was surprised. “What do you mean? Of course, we will call you and let you know what we’ve found out.”
“That’s better than the detective that’s working on the case. I’ve called him at least five times. He came here once, stayed for about ten minutes, and left.”
“Was that Detective Dawson?” Van asked.
A wave of anger covered Kat. How Detective Dawson could be so callous when dealing with people who were frightened and alone, she didn’t know. The fact that Catherine felt brushed off by him wasn’t a good sign for the future of the case.
“Yes. Have you met him?”
Neither Kat nor Van said anything, they just looked at each other. Finally, Van spoke up. “Here’s what you need to know. We take our job very seriously. I’m a former Marine and we don’t leave people behind. That includes your husband.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet and handed it to her. “You can call us day or night if you remember anything or have questions. You can text, too. We usually have our phones with us. I can’t make any promises, but we are going to do what we can to help the police department solve the mystery.”
Catherine stood up, brushing her hands down the front of her pants. She set Van’s business card down on the coffee table. “Thank you. You have dealt with me more fairly than the detective from the department did. I appreciate that.”
After Kat and Van said their goodbyes and heard the front door of Catherine’s house click close behind them, they made their way to the truck. “Did you mean what you said about going to the college next?” She looked at the time on her cell phone. It was midafternoon. Jack would be coming home from school soon.
“Yeah, I thought we’d take a quick run over there to see what we could find. It’s not far. Is that okay?”
Kat nodded. She didn’t want Jack to be home alone, although he had Tyrant to protect him. And she would. In one of Kat’s other cases, an assassin had slipped into her hotel room. What the assassin didn’t know was that Tyrant was on the bed. Without her, Kat would have been dead.
“Are you worried about Jack?” Van asked.
“A little. As long as he gets home safe, he’ll have Tyrant there with him.”
Van nodded. “We’ll make this quick, I promise. We can always go back tomorrow.” He turned on the radio to some oldie’s music. It wasn’t Kat’s favorite, but it was his truck, so his choice.
“What did you think of Catherine?” Kat asked.
Then tilted his head to the side. “She was a lot more forthcoming than Danielle, that’s for sure. She was also a little better at isolating when he had been taken.”
“Yeah, I was thinking about that,” Kat said. “I’m wondering if that’s because Daniel was a teenager. I mean, we keep a pretty close watch on Jack, but there are other kids older than him that kind of have free rein.”
“That’s probably right. I know when I started driving, my parents never knew where I was,” Van said.
Kat smiled. She could imagine that was the case. Van had a mind of his own as an adult. She couldn’t imagine how wild he was as a teenager.
The entrance to Grand Ridge College was flanked by two brick walls, decorated with a bronze medallion with the school’s insignia. As Van drove through the entrance, his GPS leading him directly to the Statler building, Kat looked left and right. This wasn’t the only college campus that had taken part in one of her investigations. Grand River College didn’t look much different from the Savannah College of Art and Design, the last time she had been on a college campus for an investigation, that one focused on murder and forgery. She bit her lip, wondering where this college visit would lead them.
Midafternoon classes must have just let out, Kat thought, looking at the number of students walking across the campus. Students dotted the sidewalks and lawns getting to their next classes or heading back to their dorms. The landscaping around the school wasn’t extensive but was neatly cared for. Maintaining acres and acres of lawns and planting beds had to be a nightmare, she realized. “There it is,” she pointed, seeing the sign for the Statler building off to the right.
A small blue sign on the side of the road with an arrow pointed them into the parking lot. “Statler Building Parking,” it said. The building itself was a squat two-story brick building, the same color as the two entry walls they had passed as they drove on the campus. Kat glanced around, wondering how many of their buildings had been built using the same brick. Like most college campuses, the buildings were a hodgepodge of materials and styles, some of them modern and sleek, others that looked like they were part of a post-Civil War building cycle.
Van pulled the truck into one of the visitor parking spots in the front of the building. As they got out, Kat glanced around, “Excuse me,” she said, nearly bumping into a student toting a large blue backpack. The student said nothing, a blank expression on his face. He just kept walking without saying anything.
“Try not to run anyone over, okay?” Van said, a grin on his face.
Kat grimaced. With her slight frame, it was nearly impossible for her to run anyone over. “Okay, I’ll try,” she said, playing with him. “Now, let’s go get this taken care of.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Van said.
Inside the Statler building, the cool air settled over her. The slight smell of cleaning solution, bodies, and old wood paneling filtered through the air. It always surprised her how buildings smelled differently. Just inside the front door, there was an office with a woman sitting behind a glass window. “Visitor reception,” the sign said. “I think I read online that this building houses admissions and their business department,” Kat said, veering toward the woman.
The glass window slid back with a rattle, “Can I help you?” she said.
“Yes, I was hoping you could direct us to the maintenance office in this building?”
There was a pause as if the woman wanted to ask why, but she didn’t. “Go down the main hallway, turn right, and go to the end of that hallway. You’ll find the maintenance office on the left-hand side.” The woman closed the glass window and returned her gaze to her computer without saying anything else.
Van raised his eyebrows, “Well, that was abrupt,” he whispered as they walked away.
Kat walked down the hallway, her shoes making a quiet squeaking sound as they passed over the heavily waxed tile. They walked by a few students, dodging to the side. Many of them were staring down at their phones and had earbuds in. “It’s a miracle they don’t all get concussions,” Kat mumbled. She immediately thought of Jack and how much time he spent on his phone. In no time at all, they would be out visiting colleges and universities. The idea that he would be out on his own in a few years sent butterflies into her stomach. She pushed the thought aside. Now was not the time to worry about Jack’s future.
Kat rounded the corner, Van behind her. They went to the end of the hallway, as the woman had described, passing cla
ssrooms and offices. The hallway where the maintenance office was located was nearly deserted. They saw one student straggle out of a classroom nearly at a run. “Probably late for his next class,” Van said. Kat nodded, tilting her head to the left, looking for the maintenance office. It was right at the end of the hall, just as the woman had described. The door was cracked open.
“Hello?” Kat said, gently pushing the door forward a crack.
The door moved slowly, the hinges creaking as if they needed a good coat of oil. Inside, Kat could see a desk in the center of the room, a small lamp lighting the space. There were no windows, so it was dim at best. In front of the desk were two old chairs and a bookcase pushed up against the wall, the short kind with only three shelves.
A voice came from behind them, startling Kat, “Are you looking for me?”
Kat and Van both wheeled around to see a short, balding man with glasses in front of them. “I’m the maintenance person on duty. Is there something I can do to help you?”
In his hands, the man was holding a bag of food. It looked like take out from a local burger place. “Give me a second,” the man said, pushing past them into the office. “Sorry, I just got called in and forgot to pack food for tonight.”
Kat followed the man into the office. He put down the bag of food and wiped his hands on the front of his pants. Kat noticed they were blue work pants, the kind that mechanics wore, covered in stains, paint, and oil. He had on a red polo shirt that said Grand River College Maintenance. The pants and the shirt didn’t seem to match. It was like the pants he wore belonged to him in another life. “My name is Jim,” he said. “How can I help you?”
“We wanted to talk to you about Ben Boyd?” Van said.
Jim sat down in the chair behind the desk and motioned for Kat and Van to sit. “Ben? Why are you asking about him?”
“We’ve been asked by the police chief to help in the investigation,” Van said.
“Okay. How can I help?” Jim said, leaning his elbows on the desk.
“Did you know Ben?”
Jim shook his head, wisps of hair on the top of his head shifting as he moved. “No. I think we may have met one time at a meeting or an employee barbecue, but that’s it. I normally work across campus. They just called me over here to fill in while he’s off. Do you guys know what happened to him?”
Kat furrowed her eyebrows, “You haven’t been watching the news?”
“Sorry, I work nights. Never anything good on during the day. Got rid of my television about five years ago after it broke. Never took the time to replace it.”
“Ben was abducted.” The words coming out of Kat’s mouth hung in the air. She hoped that it wasn’t too abrupt, but they needed answers. They needed them now. There was no telling what had happened to Ben, and now Rebecca. They might be running out of time.
“Abducted? What?”
Van quickly filled Jim in on the specifics, or at least what they knew. “So, you have no idea who might have been following Ben around or any other suspicious people in this building or on the college campus?”
Jim tilted his head to the side, “Suspicious people? Listen, this is a college campus. We get all types here, especially the suspicious types.”
Kat started to feel frustrated, a hard knot forming in her chest. “No one bothered to tell you what happened to Ben or why you were replacing him?”
Jim shook his head, “No. I just got a text telling me to come and work here until told otherwise. Our maintenance manager is over in the administration building across campus. I hardly ever see him.”
Kat stood up. “Thanks for your time. If you think of anything, give us a call. Van will give you one of his business cards.”
Kat left the office without saying much more. She was angry. She was frustrated. How is it that no one knew what happened to these people? It was as if they just disappeared off the planet and then reappeared, dead. She could hear murmurs inside of the office. Van came out a moment later. She knew she left too quickly, but she didn’t care. They needed information, and they needed it now.
As they walked back down the hallway toward the truck, Van looked at her. “You okay?”
“Honestly? No. How is it that no one saw anything? We’ve got two people dead and two people missing and it’s like they just vanished.”
Van didn’t say anything else as they walked back to the truck. Kat was lost in her thoughts, thinking about Ben and Rebecca, wondering if they were still alive, wondering who might be targeted next. Her gut told her they were running out of time and running out of it fast. They needed a break in the case, and she had no idea how they would get one…
17
Detective Wesley Dawson opened the drawer on his desk and pulled out a bottle of multicolored antacids, popping two yellow ones and two green ones into his mouth. The chalky flavor coated his teeth as soon as he bit down. They tasted awful, but they were the only thing that would settle his stomach. He kept telling himself he needed to eat better and maybe even exercise, but it never seemed to happen.
He dropped the plastic bottle back into his drawer and slammed it shut. In front of him were case files that were piling up with no answers to be found. His mind went back to the conversation he’d had with the reporters that morning. He’d had a pit in his stomach ever since he stormed out of the room. He’d checked on some of the work they’d done. It was impressive. That didn’t matter. This was his case to solve.
He flipped open the manila folder on the top of his desk. Daniel Arthur. The department’s administrative assistant had printed off copies of the medical examiner’s report and put them in the file for him. They had everything online, but they still kept paper copies, just in case. He scanned the information from the ME. “The subject died from the presence of necrotic tissue, infection, and blood poisoning due to the radical amputation of his left arm. There was likely a great deal of blood loss. The reattached limb, belonging to subject Chelsea Atkinson, became gangrenous and created a septic infection in Mr. Arthur’s body, ultimately leading to his death.”
Wesley closed the manila folder. There was nothing else to say. Some madman had cut off those two kids' arms and then tried to sew them back on. When that didn’t work, he dumped their bodies. His mind flashed back to the site where they had found Daniel. His body was curled up in the fetal position, his amputated arm hidden underneath his body. He’d been left at the edge of a parking lot behind the shopping center near a dumpster as though he was another piece of trash to be taken out. The only strange thing was that he was covered by a blanket, much like how they had found Chelsea Atkinson. The forensics people had been working on the blankets but hadn’t found anything so far. No DNA. No hair. No fibers. Whoever the perpetrator was, there was one thing Wesley could say for sure. He was careful. Meticulous even.
Wesley looked up from his desk for a moment, glancing out the window. It was a beautiful day in California. Most of them were. The sky was blue, and the trees were green, only the faintest yellowing in their leaves. And yet here he was, trying to figure out these two gruesome murders. As if that wasn’t hard enough, he now had two more people that had disappeared off the map.
Earlier in the day, Wesley had gone to Rebecca Blake’s apartment. The landlord had let him in. There was nothing to find. Nothing was out of place. It didn’t appear that whoever had abducted her had come back to her apartment. The landlord didn’t have much to add, “I’m sorry, Detective. I wish I could tell you more. All I know is Rebecca paid her rent every month on time. I hardly ever saw her or even talked to her. Give me a call when you leave and I’ll come and lock the apartment up again,” the landlord said, walking away. It was a dead end.
He had the same problem at the college. The maintenance manager worked across the campus from where Ben Boyd did. Hardly ever saw him. They emailed nearly every day, but individual maintenance people were tasked with certain buildings. As long as the work was getting done, there was no reason for the maintenance manager to visit the bui
lding.
Dawson got up from the desk and walked to the window where he had just been staring. Maybe he should have given the reporters a shot, he thought. After all, his boss did ask him to let them help. He glanced back toward his office door, wondering at what point the Chief would find out he hadn’t cooperated. He was sure he’d get called to his office for a tongue lashing. It wouldn’t be the first. Dawson liked to work alone. When he’d been new on the job, one of the Captains had marked on his evaluation, “Doesn’t play well with others.” He wondered how many times that had gotten him nearly fired.
And yet he was still a cop. He was ready to retire, or at least his paperwork said he could. He wasn’t sure, though. Work wasn’t what he was passionate about anymore. It seemed trying and tedious, especially cases like these, where there was no clear lead. It was harder to get the satisfaction that he had solved something, that he could mark a case as closed if someone else was involved. But Sauk Valley wasn’t the type of area to have this level of violence. Overall, it was a sleepy community, with most of his cases having to do with theft or injuries after a car accident. In the last ten years, he’d had to work with probably only one death a year, and those were all traffic-related.
He was out of his depth, that was for sure. And he knew it. But ask for help, he thought? No thank you. He turned back to his desk and sat down again, a scowl spreading over his face. Even if he wanted help from the reporters, after the altercation they’d had this morning, he wasn’t sure they’d take his phone call. It would be a miracle if they hadn’t already called the Chief. Honestly, they had every right to. He’d been less than professional. He let his pride get in the way.
And yet, he had no leads, two people dead and two more people missing. He shook his head. He’d made his bed, he’d have to lay in it. Maybe there would be a way to get the reporters interested in the case, but how? He wasn’t sure. What he didn’t know is that if he didn’t figure something out, he might have more bodies dropping around him.