Nameless

by Joe Conlan

  “There’s only one other thing I can think of, son. She has a neighbor in Florida she’s very friendly with. It’s late, but she may know something.”

  “This is no time to worry about imposing on people. I’m sure she’ll understand. I think you should call right now and call me back.”

  “You’re right, I’ll do it. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

  Hearing the concern in her son’s voice didn’t help Robin’s already lurid state of mind. She rushed to the kitchen to get her personal phone book. She was given Annie’s number in case of emergencies. There was no question in her mind this qualified now. She opened the book to the A’s. The tears were acutely flowing causing her vision to blur. She wiped them away with a handkerchief long enough to read Annie’s number and quickly dial it. Annie answered the phone in a thick, disoriented voice. “Hello.”

  “Hello, Annie, this is Robin Stein, Hannah’s sister.”

  Annie sprung to a seated position in her bed. Before she responded, she took a quick look at her alarm clock and saw it was after midnight. She inquired anxiously, “Is everything alright, Mrs. Stein?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you at this time of night, but no, I’m worried sick. I haven’t heard from Hannah and her flight landed at 6:16. She was supposed to call me when she got to the hotel. She hasn’t even checked in yet. I was hoping maybe you heard from her.”

  “No need to apologize. Of course you had to call me...I wish I could help. The last time I talked to Hannah was Wednesday when she asked me to keep an eye on her apartment. I do happen to know she left in a taxi for the airport this afternoon. Todd, our maintenance man told me he helped her with her luggage. Have you called the hotel? Have you notified the police?”

  Once again, Robin repeated all the steps she had taken to locate her sister. By the time she reached the end of the story, she was weeping irrepressibly.

  “Mrs. Stein, I know you’re scared, but we don’t know that something horrible has happened. You know how eccentric Hannah can be. The only thing you can do at this point is try to get a good night’s sleep. Hopefully, tomorrow we’ll all be laughing about some crazy thing she did. In the meantime, I have a friend who works for the FBI. I’ll give him a call and see if he can help. Maybe he can find out if she actually boarded the plane in Ft. Lauderdale.”

  “Are you gonna call him tonight?”

  “Yes, as soon as I hang up the phone.”

  “Will you call me if he comes up with anything?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Stein, I’ll call you back right away.”

  “Ok, bye Annie and thank you.”

  Annie was wide awake. Trying to get back to sleep was pointless, probably for the remainder of the night. That was the least of her worries. Hannah was no doubt a woman who marched to the beat of a different drummer. She was guilty of strange behavior on a regular basis, a good deal more than the average person. The one instance in which she did conform was when her consideration for others was at issue. It was very unlike her to be irresponsible. Annie was sure something was amiss. She was somewhat apprehensive about calling Daniel at home, worried Deborah might answer. She didn’t think about it twice. These were extenuating circumstances. Hannah was a very dear friend and even the possibility she could be in trouble was good enough reason for her to disturb Daniel. She picked up the phone and dialed his cell phone number. When Daniel answered, he sounded as alert as if it were twelve noon rather than twelve midnight.

  “Hello, Annie, I’m not liking this. Something’s gotta be wrong. What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you at this time of night, but yes, something is wrong. I’m really worried about my neighbor, Hannah Richards.” She explained everything she was told by Robin Stein. Afterwards, she continued, “I’m very concerned something terrible has happened. It’s very unlike Hannah to be this thoughtless. They’re not even sure whether she’s in Florida or New York. Is it possible for you to find out if she was on the plane to LaGuardia?”

  “I don’t know, Annie. I’ll see what I can do. Do you happen to have the flight number?”

  “Damn it, I forgot to ask her, I was so upset. I know it was an American Airlines flight scheduled to leave Ft. Lauderdale at 4pm. It arrived at LaGuardia at 6:16. From what I understand, they left a little bit ahead of schedule.”

  “That should be good enough. I’ll call you right back.”

  Daniel opened up a new tab on his laptop computer he had been working on and typed the web address for American Airlines. Navigating through the website, he located their toll free number and dialed it on his FBI issued cell phone. He explained to the American Airline’s representative that he was the Special Agent in Charge of the Miami field office and needed information about one of that day’s passengers. The call was passed to several different departments before he was finally connected to an on-call manager from corporate headquarters. Daniel repeated his request in more detail providing Hannah’s name and her flight number given to him by the previous representative. The agent asked for Daniel’s FBI identification number which he spouted off by memory. After placing him on hold for ten minutes, the supervisor returned to inform Daniel that Mrs. Richards did, in fact, board American Airlines flight number 262 which arrived at LaGuardia ahead of schedule with no reported complications.

  For Daniel who didn’t know the first thing about Hannah, there could have been any number of explanations for her failure to contact her sister. Nevertheless, for some unknown reason, like Robin Stein and Annie, he was having a very bad feeling. He wouldn’t express that to Annie, but when he had a premonition like this, he wasn’t often wrong. He used the kitchen phone to call her back. Annie answered immediately, “Hi, Daniel. Were you able to get any information? In the meantime, I went over to Hannah’s apartment to see if by chance she might be there. No such luck.”

  “She was on the flight. There’s not much of a chance she’s in Florida unless she turned around and went straight back.”

  “This isn’t good. I’m very worried. Poor Mrs. Stein is gonna have a nervous breakdown.”

  “There’s not much more we can do tonight. When I get to the office tomorrow, I’ll contact our field office in New York. I have some friends I trained with at Quantico who work up there. Maybe we can get an investigation started a little bit quicker than normal. I always hated that twenty-four hour rule. But, I have to say the overwhelming majority of adults do ultimately turn up safe and sound. It’s just not helpful for those who are victims of foul play. Try to get some sleep and I’ll call you in the morning when I know more.”

  “That’s easier said than done. Anyway, I knew I could count on you. You’re always there for me. Thanks a lot, Daniel. I really appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome. I hope they find her. Make sure you let me know if they do. Goodnight Annie.”

  “Sure thing. Goodnight and thanks again.”

  Annie called Robin Stein and told her what she had learned. She repeated Daniel’s statistics about the happy resolution of most missing persons’ cases although Annie was not, herself, convinced. She assured Mrs. Stein that Daniel would be following up in the morning and they would keep her updated. After Annie hung up the phone, she crawled into bed and turned on the TV. Fortunately, she thought, it was Friday night and she didn’t have to work in the morning. She was certain this was going to be a sleepless night.

  The temperature plummeted below ten degrees after the sun set over the Catskill Mountains. It was after midnight when Shem reached his final destination in the woods northwest of Tannersville. He parked his vehicle on a dirt road off of 23A and had to carry the still unconscious Tucker slut look-alike for more than a half mile through the thick forest of sugar maple trees. The moon and stars were hidden behind a substantial layer of low-lying clouds. If he didn’t have his flashlight, he wouldn’t have been able to see more than a few feet in front of him. To keep his body warm, before he left the SUV, he put on a pair of thermal underwear, ski bibs, gloves, an
d a thick parka. Hannah Richards was still dressed in the outfit she wore to the airport in Ft. Lauderdale. She did bring a mink coat with her on the trip. There wasn’t a chance he would allow her to use it.

  He chose a tree at the end of the trail that was streamline enough to tie his rope around securely. He set Hannah in a seated position with her lower back and butt flush against the trunk then wound the rope tightly around her chest, abdomen and the sugar maple. Once he was satisfied she was firmly bound, he jogged the mile long roundtrip to the rental car and back to retrieve his provisions. He was hoping to find Hannah awake, but she was still out cold when he returned. Allowing her to remain passed out during the process was inconceivable. It would take away all of the fun. He picked up a pile of snow from the side of the path and threw it in her eyes and down her blouse. When it didn’t wake her, he smacked her across the face several times in succession. Fresh blood oozed from both nostrils forging a path to the bottom of her chin through previous blood that had already dried. She began to stir and moan, but her eyes remained closed. To finish the job, he reluctantly performed a crushing sternum rub between her revolting and disgusting, sagging breasts. He had read that healthcare providers would execute this procedure to wake an unconscious patient. It worked like a charm. Hannah sprung into an upright position.

  She instantly felt the extreme chill of the night causing her entire body to shutter convulsively. A bolt of excruciating pain exploded across the bridge of her nose while the ropes tied around her chest and abdomen restricted her breathing. In the pitch-black darkness, it took her several seconds to become oriented. When she started to scream, he pulled the butcher’s knife from a sheath connected to his belt, and bellowed, “If you don’t shut your fuck’n ugly trap right now, I’ll slice your lips off.”

  Barely talking lucidly through a series of fitful sobs and wracking shivers, Hannah cried, “Please let me go. Please, I’ll do anything, anything you ask. Just let me live. You can have every penny I own. What did I do to you? Why are you doing this to me?”

  “You exist. That’s enough for me. I told you I don’t want your stinking, putrid money.”

  “What do you want from me, then?”

  “I want you dead.”

  Hannah wailed, screaming at the top of her lungs. He calmly walked over to his suitcase, opened it and removed three plastic, gallon-size milk jugs he had filled with lighter fluid. He took one of the jugs and began to pour the incendiary over Hannah’s head. He splashed a good bit on her face and soaked her top. The piercing sting of the caustic liquid as it penetrated her eyes only served to increase the volume of her cries. When the jug was empty, he grabbed the second and drenched her satin pants. With the third carton, he saturated the rope and doused the trunk of the tree with what was left. Meanwhile, Hannah howled her protest shaking her head back and forth stretching and straining the muscles of her neck to their limit.

  He stood in front of her for several minutes to enjoy the spectacle. Then he picked up the butcher’s knife he had temporarily placed on the ground. Grabbing her head by the hair, he sliced off both ears with two quick, clean strokes and placed them in his suitcase. Hannah let loose a deafening shriek breaching the thick, black silence of the night for miles, blood flowing from the open wounds down the sides of her neck. Shem figured he better get on with things before the bitch screwed everything up and passed out. He pulled a box of matches from his suitcase and knelt approximately fifteen feet from her. He wanted to be able to look directly into her eyes when her body went up in flames. He lit the match and threw it in her lap. The satin pants ignited with a whoosh like the coals of a propane barbecue grill when the gas is left running too long. The flames scurried up her shirt and lit her face and hair afire. Her skin crackled like kindling for a campfire while her restricted body writhed in harrowing agony. The epidermis bubbled like boiling water. Blisters formed then burst spitting fiery drops of blood in all directions.

  Despite the high temperature of the blood, he wanted to feel the red liquid on his bare skin. He moved slightly closer to the burning body allowing it to speckle his face and arms like some nightmarish variety of freckles. It left burn marks that wouldn’t heal for several days thereafter. The more the droplets covered his skin, the harder his fully erect penis strained against the several layers of his clothing to reach its ultimate orgasm. As Shem screamed out in ecstasy and snow flurries began to float down from the heavens, Hannah Richards mercifully passed on.

  Chapter 9

  Driving on very little sleep wasn’t a problem for Shem as he headed north on Interstate 87 toward Albany. The adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream manufactured an alertness that normally resulted from a restful, full night’s sleep. The thrill and euphoria he was experiencing since the kill also helped and definitely made the entire trip worthwhile. He lived for the intricate, detailed and ingenious planning and execution of each and every step of the process. From his studies, he knew that most serial murderers killed within a restricted, preferred area. He didn’t want to limit himself. The traveling provided an aspect that just made the adventure that much more complex and exciting. There was no better sense of satisfaction than what he received from a successfully staged murder and escape.

  His getaway plan was to spend the night in a hotel in Albany then fly back to Ft. Lauderdale in the morning. After the woman was dead and the fire had fizzled to a few sizzling embers, he collected his belongings, returned to his car and drove back into the village of Tannersville. By that time, it was well into the wee hours of the morning. While passing slowly along the main thoroughfare of the small town, he spotted a dark colored pick-up truck in the parking lot of the Boarding House Bar and Restaurant. It was one of three vehicles in the lot but the only one that wasn’t visible from the hotel’s reception desk. Extinguishing his headlights, he pulled into the lot and parked next to the passenger’s side of the truck so that he would simply be able to turn around to try the passenger door. It was locked. Deciding to minimize the risk of being seen and not waste time, he didn’t bother to move around to the other side to try the driver’s door. Having broken into countless cars during his adolescent years with whatever gadget he could find, it was child’s play unlocking the truck with the fancy tools of his lock picking kit.

  Leaving the passenger door in a mostly closed position to prevent the overhead light from switching on, he went back to the SUV and stored the kit. He then grabbed a rag from the suitcase and thoroughly wiped down each of the Tucker slut look-alike’s bags. Having worn gloves the entire time he was in the SUV, it wasn’t necessary to erase any fingerprints from the interior of the vehicle. Once he was sure he had left no traces, he threw his suitcase into the passenger seat of the truck, hotwired the ignition and was on his way.

  During the quick one hour and ten minute ride to Albany, he played the murder of Hannah Richards over and over again in his mind. His memory of the event was always the sole souvenir he took away with him. Normally, it didn’t matter how much gratification and sexual stimulation a kill would bring him- keeping a trophy was never part of the plan. He read of many serial killers who were caught and convicted because they were stupid enough to retain keepsakes. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake.

  The ears were not for his personal use. He had a plan for them. They would accompany him to Ft. Lauderdale. In order to transport body parts without raising suspicion, they would have to be disguised. It wouldn’t be convenient for a security official at the airport to search his suitcase and find a pair of human ears. During the planning process for this murder, he did some research on the Internet about rubber and urethane coating. He discovered a company that manufactured a product that could be used to mold or cast just about any shape and it was available at your local Home Depot.

  Shortly after the sun rose on the following morning, he laid in his hotel room bed with his eyes wide open. He wasn’t able to sleep well during the night. It wasn’t unusual for him to lose sleep after one of his kills. In rea
lity, it wasn’t an insomnia he minded. Remembering the life ebb from his victim’s eyes produced an exhilaration that electrified every nerve ending from head to toe. It was this sensation that kept him awake and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  The Home Depot in Albany where he intended to shop opened at 6:00am on Saturdays. He was waiting at the entrance when the store manager unlocked the doors at two minutes after the hour. He purchased the coating product then returned to the hotel. He had already read and memorized the directions for its use online. After fetching the ears from his suitcase, he carried them out to the lake behind the hotel and meticulously scrubbed them. He returned to the room, carefully dried them with disposable towels then began applying the rubber coating compound to the first ear. With exquisite precision, he painstakingly worked the chemical so that it would leave no seams. The final product resembled a gag toy one would purchase from a novelty store. He repeated the process with the second ear.

  By the time the job was finished and the coating completely set, it was time to leave for the airport. He carefully placed the ears in his suitcase along with the clothes he wore the previous night. He had already disposed of his rabbi clothing in the forest where Hannah Richard’s corpse was now rotting. Once his bag was closed and locked, he performed a quick check of the room to be sure he didn’t leave anything behind. Carrying the suitcase in one hand and the used can of rubber coating in the other, he walked out the door. He tossed the can in the lake, made his way to the parking lot, hopped in the truck and pulled out onto the highway. A wry smile contorted his face as he realized the flight back to Ft. Lauderdale would be much more pleasurable and peaceful.

  The blazing heat wave that singed the South Florida coastal area over the past few days finally broke during the night. Deborah Falcone, who fancied herself an amateur meteorologist was always on top of the day’s forecast, well-informed regarding approaching fronts, atmospheric pressure, relative humidity, and upcoming storms. She warned Daniel it was going to be chilly with record lows as he prepared for the day. Cold weather always made her reluctant to get out from underneath the warm, toasty covers in the morning. She was still relaxing in bed as she watched Daniel pull a pair of wool pants over his thick, muscular thighs. In the eight years she knew him, he hadn’t lost a thing. He was as sexy as ever. She stared at his bulging eight- pack while he buttoned up his white dress shirt. If it wasn’t time to get the boys up, she might have tried to entice her handsome husband back to her side.