by Roger Hayden
“Tea? Water? Coffee?”
Dobson looked at Sterling and then faced Cooper. “Some water would be fine. Thank you.”
Cooper poured two glasses and brought them over just as a woman entered the kitchen from a side hallway, sandals clicking against the floor. Her blonde hair was tied up, exposing sparkling earrings on each lobe. She wore a sleeveless white tunic and tight blue jeans. In her hand, she carried a small bag of trash, completely unaware of their presence. She suddenly jumped back with a gasp upon seeing them.
Cooper stepped forward with his arms out. “It’s okay, honey. These are the detectives I was talking about.”
She studied Dobson and Sterling, saying nothing at first, and then nodded at them as she continued to the pantry. “Good morning to both of you,” she said, spinning around. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what this is about. I overheard something about that deadbeat my husband was talking to, Gordon. What trouble is he in now?”
Dobson looked at Cooper to answer her, as he didn’t feel it was his place to say.
Cooper looked at his wife, serious and saddened. “It’s bad news. I’m afraid he’s dead.”
Her face froze for a moment, as if regretting what she’d just said. “Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Worst yet,” Cooper continued. “He was murdered. Just last night.”
The news seemed to further incapacitate her, but she made no outright expression. “That’s terrible,” she said again, turning away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have two sick children to attend to.” She then walked off toward the family room as her sandals clicked down the hall.
When she was out of hearing range, Cooper looked to the detectives with an apologetic expression. “Her name is Janet, by the way. Sorry. Things are a little hectic right now.”
Dobson leaned forward over the table with his hands folded. “Well, Mr. Erickson. Until we can solve this thing, I’m afraid it’s going to get a lot more hectic.”
Cooper stared ahead into the backyard as the realization seemed to sink in.
“Do you have the letter?” Sterling asked him.
Cooper nodded and then pushed aside a flower-filled vase that was sitting in the middle of the table. He then walked to one of the countertops and opened a corner drawer, pulling out the letter. He paused and opened the letter halfway and began reading it.
When he was finished, he said, “Gordon and I were friends in high school. Kept in contact every now and then. He called me last night, totally out of the blue, and asked me if I got a letter in the mail too. Sounded pretty concerned about it.” Cooper turned toward the detectives and walked back to the table, letter in hand. “We were just sort of catching up, and then he brought up Betsy, which we both thought was tragic. He was holding back a little. Still holding a grudge. I could feel it.”
“What do you mean?” Dobson asked.
Cooper paused, looked behind himself, and then quietly spoke. “A few months ago, he came looking to me for a job. I tried to help. Hired him to work on a site, but unfortunately he was a bit of a drinker.”
“Are there other people you know from high school who live in town?” Dobson asked.
Cooper shook his head. “Nah. Most of them moved on somewhere else. I stayed to take over the family business. Plus, I kind of like it here. Always have.”
At that point, Dobson took the dirtied, crumbled letter from inside his coat pocket and placed it on the table in plain view. “This letter, which I believe matches your own, was found at Betsy Wade’s murder scene.”
Cooper looked down at it. He then placed his own chain letter next to it, seeing that the font and wording were identical.
“I found Gordon this morning stabbed to death in his car,” Dobson continued. “I don’t know what he was doing at the old plastics factory, but that’s where we found him. And it was around then that I answered your call.”
Cooper stared at both letters, eyes switching from one to the other. “You-you think whoever sent these letters did this?”
“We don’t know,” Dobson said. “All I know is that Betsy Wade and Gordon McDonnel, were both recipients of the letters and are now dead.”
Cooper grabbed his letter back and scanned the lines furiously. Sweat was starting to show on his yellow polo shirt. He then tossed the letter onto the table and spread his arms in an I-give-up gesture. “Okay. Easy enough. I mail it off to someone else. I’m not about to be caught up in this shit.”
“Mr. Erickson…” Dobson began.
“Hey, I have a family!” he shouted.
Everything suddenly went quiet as Dobson gave an understanding nod. “I get it, but I don’t think that will solve a thing.”
Cooper narrowed his eyes, raised his chin. “How do you know?”
Dobson leaned against the table, looming over Gordon’s letter. “Call it a hunch. This isn’t about what the letter says. The fact that he mailed it to you means that you’re already marked.”
“Marked!” Cooper took a frustrated step back and shook his head in disbelief. “What are you telling me? That this guy is coming after me and my family no matter what?”
Sterling suddenly interjected, trying to bring some calm to the conversation. “Mr. Erickson, we need your help with this. Was there anyone in your high school class who would have reason to harm you, Betsy Wade, Gordon McDonnel, and Victoria Owens?”
Cooper whipped his head toward her, confused. “Victoria Owens?”
“She was murdered too,” Dobson said. “In an unsolved homicide two months ago. Out of state.”
“No…” Cooper said, shaking his head repeatedly. “It can’t be. I knew Victoria. We even dated.” He then looked up and noticed their suspicious eyes now on him. “Hey, it was for a couple of weeks, okay? I haven’t spoken to her since high school.”
“We need you to think, Mr. Erickson,” Dobson said, leaning closer. “Is there someone from your high school class who would have reason to go after you and the others? Who has ties to this plastics factory?”
Dobson backed off and waited as Cooper lifted his head, looking up at the ceiling, thinking.
“I don’t know…” Cooper said, stone-faced. “It-it was so long ago. To be honest, I don’t remember much aside from the football games and keggers .”
Dobson dug into his other coat pocket and pulled out his pocket notebook, tossing it on the table. “I need names of everyone you knew,” he began. He then looked at Sterling. “Go out to my car and get Ms. Wade’s yearbook, please.”
She took his keys and walked off, leaving him and their distressed subject at the table still shaking his head.
“It’s going to be okay,” Dobson said in an assuring tone.
Janet returned, sandals clicking against the kitchen floor, with two empty bowls in her hand. She looked flustered and irritated, unable to make eye contact with Dobson.
“They’re going to school tomorrow, and that’s final.”
Cooper turned to face her. “What happened?”
Janet washed the bowls out and placed them in the sink. “I just found out that today was school spirit day and they didn’t want to go because they think that sitting in a gymnasium for half the day is boring.”
“That’s what they said?” Cooper asked.
“No,” Janet snapped. “But I figured it out, nonetheless. Neither of them have a temperature. You just wait until later this afternoon. They’ll be completely cured.”
“No video games today then,” he said.
“You think?” Janet said, spinning around. “I’ll take them to school myself tomorrow, bright and early.”
She turned and walked down a nearby hallway. Dobson signaled Cooper’s and tapped the table next to the letters.
Cooper nodded and turned his head toward the hall. “Hey, honey. Can you come here?”
She halted, nearly out of view, and turned back. “What is it?”
Cooper glanced at the letters and then at her. “Something important. Have a look.”
&n
bsp; Janet leaned against the table with her mouth a straight line and no apparent patience for frivolity. “What’s that?” she asked, looking at the two identical letters.
“We have a very serious issue here,” Cooper said.
Janet glanced at both men. “I understand. What did Gordon get us involved in?”
Cooper touched her arm, his temper rising. “Enough with disparaging Gordon. He may not have been perfect, but he was an old friend of mine.”
Dobson stood at the other side of the table in awkward silence as the couple glared at each other.
“Okay, so what is the issue?” she said, her arms on her slim hips, waiting for a suitable explanation.
Cooper grabbed the letter sent to them and held it in front of her face. “This is no joke. Someone is after me. After us! And we need to get real serious.”
He lowered the letter as Janet turned her head slowly to look at Dobson for some kind of clarification. The front door opened and shut, followed by Sterling’s footsteps as she entered the kitchen with the yearbook in hand.
“I’m afraid that three people have been murdered connected to these mysterious chain letters,” Dobson began. “There could be more victims, but we don’t know. The important thing is that we do whatever we can to protect your family from harm.”
Janet looked back at him, shocked, her eyes welling with tears. Sterling walked around the table and stood beside Dobson as she set the yearbook down.
“This is for you, Mr. Erickson,” Dobson said. “Time to take a trip down memory lane.”
Cooper gave the book a hesitant examination. It seemed clear that he recognized its swirl pattern design, quite possibly conjuring up memories as they stood there. He grabbed the book with both hands and slowly opened it as his wife watched, standing still as a statue.
“Every person you knew that comes to mind,” Dobson said, pointing to the notepad. “Put it all there.”
Cooper nodded in silence and then pulled a chair out, sitting down as Janet placed a hand on his shoulder. The danger of their situation was finally settling in. It was time to call the station and request backup. There was little time to spare and everything would have to be done right if they had any chance of solving the case.
Stakeout
Later that afternoon, Dobson sat in an unmarked Crown Victoria parked across the street from the Erickson house with no plans to go home that evening. He and Sterling were prepared for the long haul. Detective Harris and Jones were positioned in another unmarked vehicle, joining the operation. The department’s resources were now focused on protecting the Erickson family, with hope that they could catch the killer before he struck. Dobson had done a fair amount of convincing to even get the necessary man hours approved.
For the plan to work, their presence couldn’t be known, but there was always a chance the killer had already seen them on the scene hours prior. Dobson had further explained that the Erickson’s were in “imminent danger,” and that the department had an obligation to surveil the house for a minimum of twenty-four hours. Gordon McDonnel’s murder earlier that day was the deciding factor. Now all they had to do was deliver results.
The local news media knew nothing yet of Gordon McDonnel or the ominous chain letters being sent to certain former Summerville High students. Dobson hoped to keep them in the dark just a bit longer so that the killer would feel safe, confident, and ready to strike again. The entire plan was a long shot. It was risky and could easily ruin Dobson’s career if he was wrong. He instincts, however, told him that they were right where they needed to be.
The yearbook rested on his lap as he dug into a small bag of chips. Nothing like a late lunch from the convenience store. He took a swig from his soda bottle and turned up the police radio. Sterling sat in the passenger seat next to him, watching the house through a pair of binoculars. Behind them was a cooler of drinks and snacks. Everything, it seemed, was in place. Captain Nelson insisted on updates by the hour, and Dobson was more than happy to oblige.
He and Sterling were prepared to work in shifts throughout the entire evening. The house was enabled with a high-security alarm and motion lights at every conceivable angle. No one, Cooper had stated, was getting in. Dobson only hoped that he was right. Part of him wasn’t comfortable with Cooper’s children staying there, and his wife, for that matter. But Cooper was adamantly opposed to splitting his family up, despite the risks. The responsibility of keeping them safe was now entirely on Dobson and his team.
Dobson reached for the radio microphone, prepared to check with the other team. Strategically parked at opposite sides across the street, both cars were positioned to face the Erickson house. By evening, the street was quiet. Porch lights illuminated the front of homes all along the street. They had dug in their heels and were ready to pounce at the slightest warning.
“Car eleven, what’s your status?” Dobson said into his handheld.
“So far, so good. Everything’s quiet,” Harris said.
“Copy that,” Dobson said.
“It’s not enough you got me pushing a double shift,” Harris added, “now I’ve got to hear your voice all night?”
“Oh, quit your whining,” Jones’s voice said, seated next to him.
“She’s got a point, Jack,” Dobson said with a laugh. “Just keep your eyes open. Anyone comes near that house, call it out. Any car drives by suspiciously, take down the plates.”
“Tracking,” Harris said. “Anyone want to go in on a pizza?”
“This isn’t our first stakeout. Stay focused,” Dobson said.
“You’re no fun,” Harris responded.
Dobson placed the mic back on its clip as Sterling lowered her binoculars.
“I guess a little humor is necessary,” she said. “Given the circumstances.”
“Every little bit helps,” Dobson said, taking another drink of his soda.
Sterling leaned forward, stretching. “I think it’s exciting. We might actually catch this guy.”
“I certainly hope so. I don’t know how many nights we can do this.”
Surprised, Sterling turned her head. “Nights? More than one?”
Dobson nodded. “It could turn into that. We have to be patient, alert, and adaptive to change.”
His cell phone suddenly rang from the middle console. Rachel’s name showed on the screen.
“Hey there,” he said quietly into the phone. Sterling’s presence created an immediate awkwardness, but he tried to ignore it.
“Hey,” she said back. He could already hear the perturbed tone in her voice.
“So how are things going?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “Just doing the dishes. Penny’s in her room, doing her treatments.”
“That’s good,” he said. “Sounds like a quiet evening at home.”
“Yeah,” she said, followed by a pause. “Are you really going to be working all night?”
“I’m sorry, but I have to do this,” he said, trying not to sound defensive.
“It’s hard with you away like this. We miss you.”
“I miss you too,” he began, cutting himself off. “We’ll talk later, okay?” he continued.
If only she had any idea what this killer does to his victims, he thought. If only she realized what they were up against. But there was no sense in explaining it to her. After his years on the force, she had heard all his stories and then some.
“Good luck,” she said. “See you in the morning.”
He wished her a good night and hung up, setting the phone back down.
“How long have you been married?” Sterling asked with her eyes on the house. She paused, noticing his silence. “I’m sorry,” she said. I don’t mean to pry.”
“Twenty-three years,” he answered.
“Congratulations,” she said, lowering her binoculars as the lights went out in two windows of the Erickson house. “Any children?”
“Yes, we have a daughter,” he said. “Her name is Penny, and I’m prett
y sure you’re about the same age.”
Sterling looked at him, surprised. “Is that so? How old do you think I am?”
“A lot younger than me,” he said.
Sterling laughed as headlights appeared down the street. They both stopped talking. Dobson sank lower in his seat, shielding his face, as the headlights grew brighter. The car passed them and slowed with its brake lights flashing. He turned around, suspicious, only to see the car pull into a neighbor’s driveway across the street and enter the garage.
“False alarm,” he said under his breath. He then turned back to Sterling with some questions of his own. “So how about you? Any kids?”
He could tell the question wasn’t as easy for her as it was for him. Her eyes looked down as though she was slightly embarrassed. “It’s complicated. I was engaged to be married, not that long ago. But everything fell through.”
“Oh,” Dobson said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No, it was the right decision. It took me a while to realize that we weren’t right for each other. That he wasn’t the man I wanted to marry. So, I left and came here for a fresh start.”
Dobson nodded, unsure what to say.
“So, no dating for me,” she said, slicing her hand through the air. “Not for a while, anyway. All I want to do is work.”
“Be careful not to burn yourself out though,” Dobson said. “Believe me when I say that. No job, no matter how dedicated you are, is worth it.”
“I know some people who might disagree with that,” Sterling said.
“I’m sure there’re exceptions,” he said. “But as a general rule, this job will suck you dry.” Inside, he knew he wasn’t being completely genuine. For many years, he had done exactly what he was advising her against. Even now, nothing seemed more important than solving the case. Nothing.
His cell phone flashed, buzzed, and vibrated again. This time, it was Captain Nelson.
“Yes, sir.”
“Is everything in place?” he asked. Dobson could hear other voices in the background and general commotion in the air.