Serial Separation

by Dick C. Waters

  “I’d love to.”

  “Then we’ll see you tomorrow. By the way, the AG and the press will be at the kickoff session tomorrow.”

  “Okay, and thanks again, Mike. I know you must have really worked on Paddy for me.”

  I thought about the call after we said our good-byes. The good news was that I could help, but what was with the interview?

  * * *

  The school material could wait. I decided to dial Lisa at her dorm before she called me.

  After telling someone who I was and asking for Lisa, I could hear the phone clank against the wall, and the sound of someone pounding up the stairs. “LISA . . . Scott’s on the phone for you.”

  It wasn’t long. “Hello, Scott.”

  “Hi, Lisa, how are you?”

  “I’m doing okay, thanks, and you?” I could feel the coolness of her voice.

  “I’m good . . . look . . . I want to explain about the other night, and I’m sorry about not calling you on time.”

  “You never know around here if someone took your call and just didn’t give me the message you called.”

  “No, Lisa, I hadn’t called until I talked to you. But that’s what I want to explain. I went to the new task force office investigating the Torso killings to see if Paddy O’Brien would let me help again.”

  “Not again, Scott.”

  “Lisa, I had to get on that task force and—”

  Lisa interrupted. “NO, I’m not going to be done in a minute. You’ll just have to wait until we’re finished. I’m sorry, Scott, someone wanted to use the phone.”

  “Well, I had to get on the task force, and they just let me know that I made it. There are a couple of meetings tomorrow that I need to attend. Lisa, you heard about the murdered guys that were recently identified . . . well, I knew them.”

  “Oh my God, Scott. How did you know them?”

  “I played in a hockey league a few years back. They were part of that league. But, that’s why I was late calling you the other night. When I told the task team that I knew the murdered guys, they questioned me and I couldn’t get away in time to call you.”

  Lisa was quiet on the line, but I could hear voices in the background. “You say they are now letting you on the task force? But, it’s winter vacation. Will we be able to see each other? What about Christmas and New Year’s? We were going to go skiing.”

  “We’ll be able to see each other for Christmas, but I’m not sure about going away over New Year’s.”

  “Well, Judy is already making those reservations, so, are you telling me to cancel them?”

  “I can’t say for sure, but can you hold off until I know something more about my participation on the task force?”

  “Sure, Scott. The last time you were connected to the task force . . . I almost lost my life. Now you’re connected with this new one, and you say people you knew are turning up dead. Is it going to be your turn?”

  “Lisa, please. It’s not like that at all.”

  “How do you know? YES, you can have the phone now!” There was a click in my ear.

  Chapter 15

  The unique fragrance the old building exuded reminded her of her grandfather’s sailboat. She enjoyed the weekends away with him and her sister. It was an escape she looked forward to.

  The memories of her grandfather were all she had left. His dream was for her to follow in his footsteps. When she told him she had applied to Harvard, she witnessed the joy and relief in his eyes. He died two days later in his sleep.

  She wondered many times if she hadn’t told him about Harvard would he still be alive. She should have been more sensitive to his condition. She would have easily traded her grandfather’s brief joy for his continued presence.

  She turned on the second floor display case lights and studied the contents—their ‘trophies.’ Bob was the latest addition. She walked past the other two and then examined his display. She couldn’t help the mixed feelings. She was responsible for his actions against her. She remembered titillating him by leaving her bedroom shades up so he could observe her from his bedroom next door.

  He was two years older and a high school sports figure. Eventually, when her parents and sister were away weekends camping, they had spent time together. She remembered being on cloud nine. His compliments about her beauty made her a more confidant young woman. She hadn’t made love to anyone but him. She couldn’t remember the number of times they were together, over many months; he even had his own key.

  It all ended suddenly one weekend.

  Bob had some friends over for a party next door. She remembered showering and having the feeling she was being watched. Bob came over later when she was in bed. They made love. He said he was staying the night. She had fallen asleep, but woke up later to find she was tied to the bed. Bob was no longer alone.

  She endured their attack for what seemed like an endless weekend. She recalled crying and begging Bob to stop. She would never say a word to anyone. He only laughed at her, saying if she ever told anyone about what happened, she would be sorry. He told her he would tell them it was her idea that they had been together many weekends. Then he made the mistake of telling her that he would also get ‘Little Sissy,’ and it would be her fault.

  She never told anyone, and was careful from that point on to hide from and avoid him. She made an excuse to quit cheer squad, spending weekends with her grandfather and sister on his boat.

  She was now glad to see his face behind the glass and no longer able to carry out his threat. He had been shocked to see her when she removed his blindfold. He was a smart boy, quickly understanding his fate—the body parts were hard to ignore.

  She remembered her rage when she reminded him of his threat to her sister. He had cried, said he was sorry. He even promised never to do anything to either of them if they let him go. His crying reminded her of her own begging and how he had laughed at her predicament.

  She recalled his final moments: showing him her knife, and grabbing him there. She threw her body against the glass; her hands banging on it, tears streaming down her face. You stupid, stupid asshole—you had it made. You will never rape anyone again.

  Minutes passed. She found herself curled up on the floor in front of the display case. She purposely avoided looking and quickly switched off the display case lights. She went down the stairs to the first floor. She sat on the steps and wiped her face. She thought of seeing her parents and sister over Christmas. However, she knew ‘next door’ would be grieving over Bob’s disappearance, or possibly learning that he was the latest torso victim. She tried to stop the tears, but could not. She tried to concentrate, but she felt trapped. Images kept flashing in front of her; it was like a nightmare, but this wasn’t a dream—this really happened. She had killed him.

  Several minutes must have passed because when she woke up she was soaking wet and felt like a different person. Look at what you’ve done. Now who’s stupid?

  Chapter 16

  I was late.

  Today was the task force kickoff meeting. The accident on Memorial Drive was just enough to delay me. Surely Paddy would have already started the meeting. I could feel the sweat on my back from hurrying, but I found a parking spot not too far from the office.

  I opened the front door to the office, stepped in from the cold, feeling the warmth inside. Colleen indicated the meeting had started and gave me the hush sign.

  I whispered, “Thanks,” then headed to the rear door of the conference room. I tried to quietly enter the conference room, but the old building’s door gave me up, the squeak caused Paddy to stop in mid-sentence. I quickly found an empty seat in the rear.

  Paddy resumed. “Both men had similar characteristics; white, college age, and well built. Their extremities were removed, including genitalia. The medical examiner confirmed their identity based on the medical records provided. Last Friday, Bob Sullivan, another college student, was reported missing, along with Cathy Palmer. Neither has turned up, but we feel Mr. Sullivan may
be our next torso victim.”

  While he continued, I studied the people in the room. I recognized other members of the earlier task force, including Paul Brosque. It was also easy to notice Attorney General Victor Young, who had the most expensive looking suit in the room. Many of the others must have been members of the press.

  Paddy continued. “My role as task force commander is to focus a tiger team to find the killer, or killers, of these young men.”

  “Our previous task force efforts were to organize all of the applicable state, city and community units into a single cohesive team to find the New England strangler. I’m sure all of you know we were successful. Finding the strangler, and another perpetrator who killed two former camp counselors, was a credit to the team and the different participating entities. However, although we were successful, the process was new, and it took too long to apprehend the guilty parties.” He stopped to take a drink of water, resuming leaning on the window sill.

  “We established many procedures and methods to facilitate faster information sharing among the different organizations. Many of those organizations are represented in this room, while others were unable to attend. I am counting on these methods to expedite the capture of whoever is behind these gruesome killings. Please hold your questions—I’ll be done shortly. All the bodies were recovered on the North Shore, which leads us to believe the bodies were dumped in the Boston Harbor area. I meant to mention that the two men, and the new potential victim, were last seen on a Friday night. They were also in the water several days before they washed on shore.”

  The room was very warm. Paddy must have also noticed it, taking another drink of water.

  “I’m almost done. The preliminary coroner’s report on the bodies indicated that the hands, feet, and head were severed by a sharp, heavy object mashing the bones in all of the respective areas, causing instant death. Okay, I’ll take your questions now. Ed, since I held you off a couple of times—you’re first.”

  “Thanks, Paddy. What about the private parts?”

  “We’re purposely not going into too many details, but the removal does imply the killings could be sexually related. The danger of jumping to conclusions is risky; it could have been done to throw us off target. The coroner’s report did indicate that they were removed prior to death.”

  Another reporter asked, “Paddy what’s next in your investigation?”

  “Good question. We’re currently interviewing people who last saw the two victims and the same with Bob Sullivan and Cathy Palmer. The last two hold the most promise, since it was last Friday night they disappeared. Possibly someone saw something in the area where they were last seen.”

  “We are also asking the FBI for profiler assistance, as well as other resources available locally. You can include that if you care to.”

  “I would like you to publicize the establishment of the task force, which might prevent further killings.”

  Paddy finished his water and looked around the room. With no further questions, he ended the meeting.

  “I want to thank you for your attendance today and attention on this matter. We’re going to assemble the task team in the other room. You are welcome to take pictures. Please follow me to the other room. Members of the team should reassemble here after pictures. Thank you.”

  Everyone headed to the other room, but I managed to pull Mike aside. “Mike, I’m sorry I was late, but there was an accident on Memorial Drive.”

  “Paddy waited about two minutes to get started. Someone mentioned they passed an accident and traffic was backed up. You know that’s unusual for him to delay starting anything . . . I think he might just like you. Any chance you can join me tonight around six for a beer?”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “Nothing in particular. We haven’t touched base in several weeks, and I thought we could catch up on things. I’m interested in how things are going, and how Lisa is. You also mentioned you knew the first two guys, and also Bob Sullivan . . . so maybe we could talk about that hockey league in more detail.”

  “Okay. I also have to come back for that interview this afternoon with Paddy and another—”

  Paddy interrupted our conversation. “Hey, you two stragglers; we’re waiting on you . . . again.”

  Shortly, we were all in our places, with Paddy and the AG standing in front of us, shaking hands. I heard Paddy whisper to the AG, “No, I believe we can expect more. Unfortunately, this is not the end.”

  * * *

  “Good afternoon,” Paddy said as both Colleen and the tall, red-headed woman stood at his office doorway.

  “Paddy, this is Mercedes Strong; Mercedes, this is Paddy O’Brien, and he prefers Paddy over Mr. O’Brien.” After Colleen introduced them, Mercedes took a few quick strides to Paddy, offering her hand.

  “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you . . . Paddy.”

  Colleen watched as the two of them exchanged pleasantries. She felt uncomfortable for the first time since she had been connected with the task force. She turned without a word, heading back to her reception desk downstairs. She overheard the men talking about the redhead, and some were already using her name—Mercedes.

  Colleen had a feeling about Mercedes, but she tried to put it aside, since she didn’t know anything about the girl—except, she wished she could impact a room of men like she had. She looked around, and everyone had returned to their areas. She looked down at her own outfit.

  The skirt was a pretty blue, complementing her sweater. She thought the slight scoop of the neckline focused the attention on her ample bosom, but in a professional way. She looked again at the skirt but noticed the length certainly was too long, cutting across the bottom of her knees.

  She hiked the skirt up so that more of her knees showed, and then her thighs. She pulled it up to Mercedes’ skirt level. Wow—not bad. It would definitely draw more attention now.

  * * *

  I felt the cold doorknob and opened the task force door. I stepped into the reception area and surprised Colleen. She was frozen in place with her skirt hiked up to mid-thigh. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

  I was caught off guard by the sight and commented, “If you’re looking for input—in a word . . . YES.” Colleen’s face went immediately red, and she let go of her skirt.

  “I’m sorry, Scott, you’ll have to forgive me . . . I was just . . . well . . . you’ll know soon enough. Paddy is waiting for you in his office, and the interviewee is with him; please go up.”

  I started to climb the stairs when Colleen called out. “You better brace yourself.” She stood up and hiked her skirt up again. I had never paid that much attention to her, but I found her gesture amusing.

  I could only smile at her and chuckle. “Thanks, I guess.”

  Approaching the landing, I could hear their muffled voices but couldn’t yet make out the conversation. The door to Paddy’s office was open. Obviously, a woman was sitting facing Paddy, her red hair hanging over the back of the chair. I knocked and waited for Paddy to acknowledge.

  “Good afternoon, Scott, please come in. I would like you to meet Mercedes Strong, who also attends Harvard. Mercedes, this is Scott Tucker,” Paddy said, standing.

  I went over to Mercedes, who stood up quickly and turned to make eye contact. I felt the impact of her beauty.

  “N-nice to meet you, Mercedes,” I said, with a catch I hadn’t expected.

  “How are you? It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mercedes said with a voice louder than mine.

  She shook my hand, the strength of her handshake catching me off guard.

  “I’m fine,” I said, without knowing what more to say. I could feel the electricity in her grasp, the warmth of her palm, the softness of her skin. I caught my actions, letting go of her hand.

  Paddy came to my rescue. “Please, Scott, sit down and join us; we were just talking about the role we need on the team. Mercedes, Scott assisted on our last task force.”

  I waited f
or her to sit down, and I could feel the slight color coming to my face. I couldn’t help focusing on her long legs when she crossed them. I tried to take an unnoticed breath. I sat down, slightly facing her in the other vacant chair in front of Paddy’s desk.

  I worried about my voice. “So, Mercedes, you’re at Harvard—what’s your major?”

  With a big smile drilling into my eyes, she offered, “I have a double major—criminal justice and psychology. I hope to pursue a profiler role, similar to Dr. Brussels, but many people have no idea what that is. Do you?”

  She put me on the defensive. “Well, since Paddy had talked to us about someone who can take the case circumstances and paint a picture of the potential perpetrator . . . I guess I have a general idea of what one is.”

  “That’s close enough. What interests me about the task force is that you are processing all this seemingly unrelated data. Maybe I can help paint a picture of what kind of person would most likely be committing these crimes. I’m aware of what has been published. In addition, Paddy shared some information with me,” Mercedes responded with a flip of her hair.

  I smiled, looking at Paddy, knowing now what Colleen was warning me about. It was going to be hard talking to Mercedes with her legs staring at me.

  Paddy rescued me once again, bringing our focus back to him. “Mercedes, I have copies of your transcript. It is very impressive. This is not really an interview, as I don’t believe there is anyone at Harvard more qualified than you. If you don’t mind working with a bunch of males who are not always the most polite and have bad habits, the least of which is excessive coffee drinking, and smoking, we have a role for you.”

  He added, “The position is yours if you want it. If you want to try it out for a while, that’s fine also. However, I think we could use your talents on the team now. I believe the experience you will gain will be of some value to your future pursuit.”

  “Paddy, I’ve done my homework already. If your team would like me, I’m ready to start.”