Snuff

by E. L. McKenzie

  “What about you?” Sally asked.

  Crawford almost cried, the gesture so sincere, the meaning so deep.

  Oh, sweetheart, she almost said.

  Crawford regained her composure. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m nervous about this, but I don’t know what it is. Until you tell me, I’m not sure what I’ll need to do to protect myself. But I promise you, I’ll do it. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

  They talked and at levels negotiated. After breaking for lunch and talking about the latest movies, they reconvened. Sally had carried the burden alone long enough. She broke down.

  She started nervously, “I’m going to tell you what happened. I’m going to tell you everything. But you have to promise me you’ll get me into that maximum-security unit, because I’m scared. And you have to promise me you’ll be okay, too, because I don’t want him to get you.”

  “I promise,” Dr. Crawford swore seriously.

  “It all started a couple of weeks before I shot up and overdosed,” Sally said. Crawford nodded. She would only speak to clarify or prod if absolutely necessary. Sally’s eyes were reliving a true nightmare, a time of abject terror.

  “I was working, and a call came in. I talked to this guy, and he says he wants an overnight job. He told me to meet him at this motel, one of the regulars we use, so I headed over there.”

  “I get there, and it’s early, maybe 8:30. There’s this strange guy there, in the room. Now a full night’s service is $1,000, cash up front, and I’m leaving at 6:00 am. That’s the deal, and I laid it out for this guy.

  “He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of hundred dollar bills. He peels off ten and hands them to me.” To Crawford this sounded like so many other stories she had heard of prostitution.

  Sally continued. “I took it, said thanks, and started undressing. He stopped me. ‘Nope,’ he says, ‘this is going to be a little different.’ And he’s got this whole set of instructions for me. I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, but I’m not always the most savvy person that ever lived. I can be a little naïve. I have a hard time following, but basically, he wants me to take calls until I get somebody from this group that’s in town. I’ll never forget. It’s called the Coalition of Values. Figures, doesn’t it? He gives me this script to use. I’m supposed to ask them why they’re in town. He knows no one is going to admit they’re with some religious group. My rate is $150 for half an hour and $250 for an hour. If they’re with that big group, then it’s half price. Of course, they’re all going to say they’re with that group. They have to say Coalition of Values. Then I tell them where to meet me.

  “Once the guy gets there, I’m supposed to get him to drink this champagne and slip him a roofie. If I have to have sex with him first, the guy doesn’t care one way or the other.” Crawford started to get nervous.

  “You’re probably thinking, why didn’t I just leave?” Crawford nodded.

  “And that’s what I would have done. This guy reaches into his pocket and pulls out the rest of those bills and says they’re all mine if I’ll do this. He tells me it’s ten thousand dollars. I don’t know; I really don’t care at this point. It sounded like a job I didn’t want any more.

  “I threw the thousand dollars on the bed and started to leave. Of course, he’s between me and the door, and he pulls out a gun and says, ‘You’re not leaving, you can either do this and make $10,000 or you can die.’”

  “I sat down on the bed and started crying. He sits down by me and says, ‘Look, I know this is hard, but you don’t have any choice.’”

  “About then, my cell phone rings. Sure enough, as I go through the script, this guy is in town for this Coalition of Values seminar.

  “The guy with the gun goes out to his van, right in front of the motel room door. He takes my cell phone and the room phone with him, my purse, everything. He promises me he’ll kill me if I try to leave.

  “Before the other guy gets there I check to see if I can get out the back through the bathroom, up through the ceiling, anything. Not a chance.

  “The other guy shows up. He wants to have sex first, of course.” She said this as if, on top of everything else, this was the ultimate punishment. “I’m scared to death, so I really make sure this guy has a good time. I mean, I didn’t make him wear a condom or anything. The last thing I wanted was this guy outside unhappy with me.

  “We finish, and I tell the guy, listen, tonight’s your lucky night. Not only is it half price, it’s also a two for the price of one special. You lay back. We’re going to have some champagne, and then when you’re ready, we’ll do that again.

  “Of course, what guy isn’t going to fall for that, right? He lays back and I slip the roofie in his champagne. He drinks, and within fifteen minutes he’s sound asleep.

  “Now, the guy in the RV told me that once the guy is asleep, I’m supposed to open the door and wave him in. But I’m supposed to do it naked. Of course, I thought this is some perverted guy who’s going to do God knows what, but I’m not asking any questions. The guy’s out cold, I open the door and wave the other guy in and, like I said, I’m butt naked.”

  “The guy comes in, and I go and sit on the bed. He goes over to the bottle of champagne, fills up my glass, drops a roofie in it and says drink.”

  “I start crying, but he makes me drink it.”

  Sally goes on to describe waking up in The Doctor’s dungeon, the sparse conditions, and The Doctor’s orders. She goes into some detail describing the conditions. The small room. The drain. The low ceiling. The abject terror of the situation. Sally’s grasp of detail and nuance was impressive, but Crawford knew she was avoiding the trauma of that place. Finally, she got to the horrible act.

  “He made us memorize this script. I’m dressed up as some damsel, or some such shit. There’s going to be another woman as well. When I enter the main room, sure enough there is another woman and the guy from the motel—not the one with the gun, the one I slipped the roofie.

  “As I said, for the last couple of days I’ve been memorizing the script, so none of this is a huge surprise. But about ten minutes before I’m supposed to go in there, a tray slides in with a knife and some additional instructions. Basically, what it tells me is how to conceal the knife, and that me and the other girl are supposed to both have sex with this guy. And sometime, while we’re in the middle of having sex, we’re supposed to stab this guy to death.

  “And then the voice comes into my room and clarifies all of this. I’m sure it’s the voice of the guy with the gun at the motel. He tells me that we must kill this guy, and once we start, we have to have it done in twenty minutes. If we don’t, then he’s going to kill us.

  “And after we finish killing the guy, we’re supposed to have sex with each other, you know, lesbian sex.” By this time Sally was crying almost uncontrollably, but Crawford was determined to let her finish. This story cannot be true, she thought. She’d have to get an extremely good consultation to figure out how to handle this.

  Sally described the scene graphically.

  “I’m having sex with him, and I’m on top. I bring up the knife and stab him. At the same time, he smashes a hammer on the other girl’s foot. All hell breaks loose, but we do kill him, then have girl sex.

  “After we’re done, I figured this monster would kill both of us. I went back to my room like the directions said. I was naked and covered with blood. A few minutes later a tray is slid in with a basin of water, a bath towel and wash towel, soap, and the clothes I had been wearing when he took me. Weirdly, they had been washed and folded neatly.

  “He left me there for a couple of days, but then he did exactly what he said he would. He had me take another one of those roofies, and the next thing I knew I was waking up in the same motel I started in, but a week later. He promised me if I ever told anyone this story he would know. He also promised he’d find me and kill me, but not before he crushed everyone dear in the world to me first. And he also said he filmed the whole thing, so if
I squealed, he’d send the video to the cops. I’d be convicted of murder.”

  The story with sordid details and Christine’s questions had taken over two hours to tell. Crawford sat, paralyzed.

  “Okay, Sally,” she said, at a loss for words or therapeutic advice, “now I understand. I think what’s best for today is for us to get you to that safe housing. I’m going to have to spend some time thinking about this. That’s the most incredible thing I have ever heard.”

  “You believe me, don’t you?” Sally pleaded. “You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”

  Yes, I think you’re completely loony tunes, is what Crawford wanted to say. She replied simply, “Of course I believe you.”

  (eighteen months earlier)

  The Doctor went about his deceptive work quickly. As he had looked for motels in Pueblo, he also had looked for appropriate places to abandon evidence of his crimes – valuable possessions of his victims that would be taken by others and likely sold. This would throw law enforcement off his scent and to date it had worked effectively. Look at poor Lawrence Greene arrested in Montrose for killing Victor Robinson. Similar results had occurred in other cities, and, as often as not, the contraband he left was scattered about communities, confusing law enforcement and leading to false accusations and wrongful prosecutions.

  He had just dropped his latest victim, Miles Hunter, at the cheesiest motel yet, literally the Dew Drop Inn. He then parked the RV at Walmart amongst kindred camping spirits. Wearing a fat suit, a ZZ Top beard, and long, braided wig, he was unrecognizable. Using removable stickers, he always disguised the RV as a different model than it actually was. Tonight, he used the Winnebago stickers. In addition, he had multiple stickers advertising ‘the best cleaning service in town,’ with a phone number and website for a legitimate Pueblo cleaning service. The license plate number was also manipulated using cheap materials found in Walmart (not that he would go in this one and risk detection). Threes were changed to eights, ones to sevens, D’s to B’s, and E’s to eights.

  He kept a moped in the back of the RV. He pulled it out, put on his backpack with Miles Hunter’s personal effects in a separate bag, and headed to the all-night laundromat just down the street. His prior planning revealed the cameras in the dingy strip mall. He approached the laundromat such that he would not be caught on camera outside. Once inside, the only recording device focused strictly on the washers, dryers, and vending machines. The Doctor took a path that would avoid being caught on camera. Once inside he travelled quickly to the back of the empty establishment. He took off the backpack and pulled out the bag containing Miles Hunter’s personal effects. He checked to confirm approximately twenty-five dollars in ones and fives were scattered across the top of the bag. In his mind this made it more likely whoever found the bag would keep it rather than turning it in, thus starting the evidentiary questions law enforcement would inevitably have of the person in possession of these items from a man found murdered nearby. The bag contained his billfold with whatever additional cash he had, credit cards, and other miscellaneous items. The Doctor removed the driver’s license to make identification at least a bit more difficult. The bag also included other valuables of Mr. Hunter, including his wedding ring with multiple diamonds. The Doctor included other contraband as well, including a woman’s diamond ring taken from a prior surviving victim, as well as additional jewelry he had stolen over the years. He intended to coerce the finder of the bag to pawn their findings, again, causing confusion for law enforcement.

  As quickly as he made his deposit, he reversed course, loaded the moped in the RV, and headed back west. He arrived at the secluded rest stop in less than thirty minutes, shortly before 3 a.m. In moments he removed his fat suit, wig, beard, and the stickers disguising the RV. If stopped by law enforcement, he was now simply himself.

  If and when law enforcement finally found him, it would not be because he did not consider every eventuality and attempt to deal with it in advance.

  As Sally poured out her soul to Dr. Crawford and The Doctor taunted Gary Knight, Nick and the rest of the investigative team followed up on the Coalition of Values thread.

  Nick had commandeered one of the larger conference rooms for use as a war room. Burleson had nicknamed the room Plymouth Rock. Someone had taped a piece of copy paper with the name in magic marker onto the door.

  Nick had his laptop fired up and was running the command center. They all felt the tension as the pieces started to fall together. The first piece came in shortly after 10:00 a.m. as Kelly Barela charged into the room.

  “I got a positive ID on John Doe #1 from down in Pueblo.” The room turned in unison to Barela to get the details.

  “The guy’s name is Miles Hunter. Thirty years old, from Chicago. Folks,” Barela announced, “this guy went missing when he was in Atlanta at a Coalition of Values meeting.”

  The room pulsated with energy. The possibilities were almost endless, but the investigation team was clearly making progress. Now they understood where to focus.

  “Great job, Kelly,” Nick said. “Vince, how are we coming with the ID on our Jane Doe #1?

  “We’re working it, boss,” Vince said enthusiastically. “The Coalition of Values meeting that weekend was in Phoenix, and we’re trying to track down missing persons from that timeframe.”

  “All right,” Nick continued, focused. “You’ll figure that out in short order, I’m sure.”

  Then to Sandy, Nick said, “I want you to work with Kelly and his team to figure out where this video came from. Now that we’re starting to get these folks ID’d, we have to track down the videos. I guarantee you each of these people were star performers in separate movies. Once we find the source of those, we’ll be able to figure out who the surviving actors are, and we’ll be able to track down our killer.”

  “Meanwhile,” he said, “I’ll continue to work with my team to try to figure out who the two women were with Steven Blair in Portland.”

  Nick answered the cell phone on the first ring, expecting Friendly.

  “Mr. Lynch?” she asked.

  “Yes.” The voice was not familiar.

  “This is Barbara Jenkins from Denver West.” Nicky’s school. This couldn’t be good. The kids were in school on Saturday to make up for days missed due to an unusually snowy winter. Did that lead to poor behavior? “There has been an incident with your son at school. We need you to come over here right away.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  “He’s fine,” she said, emphasizing ‘he.’

  “What is this about, Ms. Jenkins?

  “Principal Bulger would appreciate it if you would come right away. I am not at liberty to discuss the incident with you.”

  “Fine, I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Nick replied, now impatient. He grabbed his coat and headed to the parking structure.

  Before he reached Denver West High School, Michelle called. “Hey, sweetie,” he answered, realizing he would have to put off Friendly Nice.

  “Dad, can you come get me? I’m sick.” He was less than five minutes away from Denver West, but Michelle’s middle school was fifteen minutes from there.

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

  “I don’t know, I’ve felt bad all day. I started throwing up before lunch. I have a fever, and I feel awful. I just want to go home.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m in the nurse’s office.”

  “Okay, honey,” he replied. He didn’t really want to say anything about Nicky because he did not know the situation. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Let me talk to the nurse for a minute. And why don’t you take a nap until I get there.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  The nurse came on the line. “Mr. Lynch?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Nurse Bennett. What can I do for you?”

  “Listen, it’s going to be a little while before I can get over there. I have some business I need to tend to regarding my son at Denver West, and then I
’ll be there to pick Michelle up as soon as I can after that.”

  He heard the disapproval in her tone, but she simply replied, “We’ll take care of her until you arrive.”

  Phyllis’ cell phone rolled to voice mail for a third time as he walked into Denver West High School. Where the hell is she? He left yet another message, this time adding the information about Michelle’s illness. He put his phone on vibrate, as he knew that the school was strict about that for visitors.

  Nick got buzzed into the school and was quickly led to the principal’s office. He was surprised when Nicky was not there. After introductions, the principal started off softly.

  “Detective Lynch, I would like to compliment you on your son,” Principal Bulger started. Nick knew this was not why he was asked here on no notice. “Up until today, he has been one of our finest student athletes.”

  Nick was an investigator, and this was an investigation. He would allow the Principal to talk herself out. He nodded but remained silent.

  “Let me ask you a question, Detective. Is everything okay at your house?”

  Nick’s responded coolly. “Ms. Bulger, let me answer a question with a question. Is everything okay at your house?”

  Her answer surprised him. He was looking for confrontation, not intelligence. “Not that I believe it is relevant to this conversation, but as a matter of fact, it is, Detective Lynch. Given your response, let’s approach this a different way. I’m not here to antagonize you. Your son has gotten himself into quite a bit of trouble today. As we talked to him, it became apparent there are some significant issues coming from home. My interest is in finding the best resolution for Nicky, and I have found the best way to do that is to work cooperatively with the parents.”

  Nick replied, “Ms. Bulger, I hear what you’re saying, and I appreciate your concern for my son. Maybe it would be best if you told me what he did.”