by Ben Follows
Natasha smirked. “One, I don’t have to tell you the name of my source. That would be against journalistic ethics, and I would never get a job again. As to knowing something about the investigation, whoever told you that is full of shit. You can look through my notes, if you want. You won’t find anything about my source.”
“How about we cut the shit, Natasha?” Frankie came around the desk and stood close to her. “You don’t care about journalistic ethics. If you did, you wouldn’t have written that article in the Observer this morning about how Agent Mackley is obsessed with Marino.”
Natasha shrugged. “I’ll be happy to mention that in tomorrow’s paper.”
Frankie frowned. “Let me see your notes.”
Natasha handed over the notebook from her desk. As she did so, she brushed past Frankie’s jacket. “This is nice fabric," she said.
Frankie shoved her aside, barely retaining her composure. “I’m taking this as evidence,” said Frankie. “I expect a full retraction in tomorrow’s Observer, along with a full vote of confidence from the Observer in both the Blind River Police Department and the FBI. Anything less and I'll be back here with a warrant. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Good.” Frankie stared at Natasha for a moment before turning and walking out of the office.
As she was about to leave, she looked back at Natasha, feeling uneasy about trusting anything she said.
23
Curtis waited outside the bar to be picked up by Frankie. They would be heading to the station to update Chief Tucker before going to the Blind River Motel, where they had rooms booked for the night.
Taking advantage of the downtime, he took out his phone and dialed Melanie.
She answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, Mel.”
“Oh, hey, Curtis. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.”
“There was nothing going on so I thought I’d check in."
There was a pause. “Morning sickness is getting worse. I haven’t been able to get as much work done. On the bright side, today was the first time I got offered a seat on the subway."
Curtis laughed. “That’s awesome. How did they like those sketches for the Ford advertisement?”
“They seemed to like them. I just got out of the meeting with the sales team, actually. I’m waiting to hear back from them.”
“Good luck. How’s the baby?”
“He kicked this morning.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it felt weird, but also great, you know?”
“I wish I was there.”
“You’ll be here for the next first.”
“I’ll be back.” He felt a lump form in his throat as he remembered making the same promise to Amber. “I promised. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“How’s the case?”
“I don’t know. I wish I hadn’t come back here.”
“Then come back to me, Curtis.”
He looked up. Frankie turned the corner toward him.
“There are some questions I need answers to," he said. "Then I’ll be back, I promise.”
“Okay. Be safe.”
The line went dead just as Frankie pulled up.
He worried for a moment, after the promises he’d broken before, whether his promises meant anything.
24
Curtis was jolted out of his sleep by a sudden onslaught of light.
It was still dark outside. The clock on the bedside table said it was just past four in the morning. Frankie had still been awake when Curtis had fallen asleep. She'd been going through Natasha’s notes.
“What the hell?” said Curtis, looking up at Frankie standing over his bed. The lights in the room had all been switched on. “For fuck's sake, can’t I just have a normal night’s sleep for one night?”
“Zach O’Reilly’s missing,” said Frankie.
Curtis looked up at her, frowning.
“What?” he said.
“He never came home after he spoke to us about Ashley," said Frankie. "His parents called the cops. They can’t find any trace of him.”
“Jesus Christ.” Curtis pushed himself onto his elbows. “Okay, give me a minute to have a shower and get dressed.”
Ten minutes later, they were driving through the empty town. They pulled up to the O’Reilly’s house.
Matt Oberman was standing by his car. They parked and walked up. The house was completely surrounded by police cars and yellow tape, the flashing lights from the cars illuminating the street.
The neighbors leaned out of their doors to see what was happening, their expressions a mix of sorrow and relief it wasn’t their family. Just a few blocks down the street was the Hagertys' residence, where they had interviewed Miriam and Ken two days earlier.
Curtis and Frankie walked up to Matt. He looked up as they approached.
“What happened?” said Curtis.
Matt shrugged. “Mr. and Mrs. O’Reilly called the police at around midnight when Zach hadn’t come home. We’ve gotten a ton of calls like that since the kidnappings started, but we sent a squad car out to check on it. The officer found a significant amount of blood in the back garden, so we got called in.”
“Zach was here last night," said Frankie.
Matt nodded. “The parents were out at a movie."
“This isn’t the same guy," said Frankie.
“What do you mean?” said Matt, frowning.
“It’s not the same person who kidnapped the girls. It’s too far from his M.O. It’s too messy and too risky. Why would he do it?”
“You're saying there’s someone else?”
“It makes more sense than saying it was the same person.”
Curtis nodded. “Our guy is kidnapping girls, specifically targeted from separate social groups and taken in the middle of the night, in deserted areas where no one can see them. This is too barbaric, too simplistic.”
“Maybe he’s changing it up?” said Matt. “We don’t exactly have a big sample size.”
“Unlikely,” said Frankie. “There’s something about those girls that the kidnapper is focusing on. It just doesn’t make sense.”
Matt nodded and turned back toward the house. Through the front door, they could see two officers speaking with the O’Reillys. Zach's mother sobbed while her husband held her close, barely holding himself together.
“Get them to look for footprints,” said Curtis. He and Frankie turned and walked back toward their car.
“Where are you going?” said Oberman.
Frankie answered. “This isn’t our case. It might be related, but it’s something else. Make sure the detectives get us the information.”
They got to their car just as Monica and Trevor pulled up. Monica nodded to Curtis and he nodded back.
Curtis climbed into the car.
“We’ve got a few hours until your meeting with Marino,” said Frankie as she pulled away from the flurry of police activity. “Let’s check out the forest again.”
“Are you thinking that’s the dumping ground?”
“If the kidnapper is killing the girls, it makes sense to take the bodies out to the forest and bury them.”
“The police checked that. It was in the file. They had a full team from the State Police come in and take dogs through the forest.”
“Just because they didn’t find anything doesn’t mean that there isn’t something to be found.”
Curtis looked over at Frankie. She had that expression which he'd seen so many times before. Marino was his crusade, this was hers.
He nodded.
They pulled into the same parking lot they'd visited after their arrival, just as the first rays of sun appeared over the lake.
Walking along the edge of the forest, they came to the spot where they believed Harriet Matheson had been grabbed. Curtis stared into the forest and frowned. There was something bothering him, a faint, almost forgotten memory pushing at the edges of his mind.
A
squirrel ran along the branches above them. Birds flew between the trees, chirping happily.
Frankie stared into the forest, then began walking. She took out a flashlight and began scanning the ground, looking for anything that might indicate a buried body. Curtis did the same.
They searched for two hours. The sunlight reached between the trees.
Without speaking a word, they turned and made their way back toward town, retracing the same steps.
Curtis knew they had long ago passed the point that a body would be buried by all except the strongest, most determined serial killer.
When they got back to the river, Frankie turned and looked at the forest, as if demanding to know its' secrets.
Frankie twisted her mouth into a scowl.
“Anything?” said Curtis, his hands in his pockets.
“No," said Frankie. "Let’s go into the station. Maybe they know what happened to Zach. We can pick up the evidence for Marino.”
25
The commotion from the O’Reillys' house had moved to the police station. Cars, both police and civilian, filled the street.
There was a mob gathered at the entrance, shouting at the few police officers, among whom was Joe Hagerty, that they wanted answers.
“Our children are being taken by a madman!” screamed someone.
“The police are useless!” another shouted.
There was a camera flash and the voice of Natasha Nolowinski came over the crowd. She shouted, “Officers, what do you have to say about allegations of bribery and incompetence?”
The answer was drowned out by the shouting. Curtis and Frankie ducked their heads as they drove past and parked two blocks from the station.
They walked back to the police station, trying to sneak around to the back entrance. They were halfway around the building when Natasha Nolowinski shouted, “There’s the FBI agents! They aren’t even trying to find the girls! They’re just trying to satisfy their own revenge!”
Parents and teachers Curtis recognized, among many others, began marching toward them.
Curtis and Frankie jogged through the back doors of the station. They locked the door and looked around the interior of the station.
“I’m getting a warrant for Nolowinski,” muttered Frankie through her teeth. “I don’t care what it’s for.” She turned to the nearest officer and said, “Where are Mackley and Marshall?”
The officer pointed to the chief’s office.
Frankie and Curtis entered the office without knocking. Monica and Trevor waited patiently while the chief shouted into his phone to someone about the mob outside the station. He glanced at them for just a moment.
“They’re here now," said the chief. "I’ll tell them. Okay, thank you.” He slammed the phone into its cradle and let out three heaving breaths. He looked up at the agents and the detectives. “That was the mayor,” he said. “She wants to know why bringing in the FBI has made the situation worse.”
Frankie frowned. “We—“
“I know,” said Tucker, falling into his chair and adjusting his tie. “It’s only been two days. People in this town have this mystical fucking view of the FBI.”
“What’s going on?” said Frankie. “Why is there a mob out there?”
Tucker sighed. “I assume you haven’t seen today’s Observer.” He reached into the drawer and pulled out a newspaper.
Curtis took it. His stomach sank as he saw Zach’s picture plastered over the front page. The headline said, “Secret boyfriend of missing girl questioned by police.”
The article was written by Natasha Nolowinski. Two things became apparent as Curtis read the article. One, the article implied Zach was the only suspect, and two, nowhere in the article did it explicitly say that.
Curtis understood, and sighed. “Someone read this and decided to take justice into their own hands?”
“Not just someone,” said Trevor, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Ken Hagerty.”
Curtis frowned. “Ashley’s dad?”
Trevor nodded. “Neighbors saw him grab Zach from the O'Reillys' back yard. Baseball bat to the head knocked the kid out. Ken threw Zach over his shoulder and walked to his car. Threw Zach into the trunk and drove off.”
“So,” said Chief Tucker, “what do we do? This is so far outside my area of expertise, I don’t even know where to begin. I never thought I’d be dealing with this kind of situation here. I’m not prepared for this.” The chief laughed to himself. “A few months ago, Natasha was in here harassing me about a comment I made regarding a fight at Randall’s Tavern where a guy got his teeth knocked out. I thought the backlash from that article would be the lowest point of my career. I told myself if I got through that, I'd be fine.” Chief Tucker looked out through the window. In that moment, he looked like a man who was tired of everything.
“We need to divide and conquer,” said Frankie. “We should put one FBI agent with one detective to make sure we have a combination of expertise and local knowledge. Curtis and Monica will focus on finding the missing girls. Trevor and I will find Ken Hagerty. Any questions?”
Curtis met Monica’s gaze. She stared right back at him, her expression unreadable. No one asked any questions.
“Let’s get to it,” said Frankie, “before something else happens.”
Curtis grabbed the box of FBI evidence from the corner of the office.
They left Chief Tucker white-knuckling the edge of his desk, his forehead turning a bright red as his phone rang.
They walked through the screaming crowds once again, ignoring them. Natasha was standing near the outside of the crowd, grinning at them.
Monica and Trevor’s detective car was parked along the side of the road, the mob blocking any of the reserved parking spots. Curtis and Monica climbed into the police car. Curtis put the box of evidence in the foot well of the back seat. Frankie and Trevor walked to the FBI car. They drove in opposite directions.
“Where to?” said Monica from the driver’s seat. “I want to drop by dad’s house at some point.”
“Just drive around for a bit,” said Curtis. “I want to make sure we aren’t being followed.”
“And then?”
“We'll go to the prison.”
They drove for a few minutes, Curtis looking out the back windshield. When he was sure they weren't being followed, he told Monica to drive to the prison.
“You really think Marino has something to do with this?" said Monica. "There’s no reason Marino would want to kidnap a bunch of girls. This isn’t about you and him, Curtis.”
“Did you know?” said Curtis. “That it was me who put Marino in prison?”
Monica nodded. “I thought it might be you, but couldn’t prove it. I asked Condra about a month before he died. He said it was a very good guess and sipped his whiskey.”
“So dad didn’t know?” said Curtis.
“I don’t think so.”
Curtis nodded and stared out the window as the rows of houses gave way to trees and transport trucks passing by on the highway. The prison looming in the distance.
“Marino knows,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“He figured it out when he found out I was in the FBI. It’s not a huge logical leap that the kid who delivered his paper turned him in, especially if that kid winds up in the FBI."
“Where’d you get that information?”
“Bobby Randall.”
Monica scoffed. “Bobby Randall was a low-level drug dealer who got caught because he sold crack to a cop. Not an undercover cop. A uniformed patrol cop in his patrol car. Bobby is a moron.”
Curtis frowned. “Bobby said he heard it while in prison. He didn't say anything about drug dealing.”
“Don’t trust him, Curtis," said Monica. "His own father doesn’t trust him alone at the bar, and any delusion he has about inheriting the bar is never going to happen.”
They pulled into the parking lot of the prison. Curtis wondered whether there were more usefu
l things they could be doing. They climbed out of the car. Curtis grabbed the evidence box from the back seat.
Nate Williams looked up from his desk as they approached. He stared at Monica for a moment, then turned to Curtis, ignoring Monica.
Monica said nothing, but visibly tensed up her shoulders. Curtis wondered whether they'd talked since the divorce.
“What can I do for you, Agent?” said Nate.
“I need to speak with Marino again.”
Nate nodded and called up to the prison. He spoke to someone on the other side, then hung up. “Harry will meet you inside,” he said.
Curtis thanks him and walked inside. Monica didn't acknowledge Nate as she followed.
“What happened between you and Nate?” said Curtis as they walked toward the interview rooms.
“When did you get married?” said Monica abruptly.
Curtis stopped. The evidence box weighed down his arms.
Monica walked a few steps ahead before realizing Curtis had stopped. It was the first time he'd been alone with his sister in almost fifteen years. He thought of the ring in his pocket, where he had kept it since taking it off.
“What are you waiting for?” she said. “Trevor and I both saw your wedding ring. Get over it.”
She continued walking down the hall. After a few moments, Curtis followed.
At the end of the hallway they were met by Harry Ochre. He led them to an interview room.
Monica stayed outside to watch through the one-way mirror while Curtis entered.
Curtis placed the evidence box on the ground and took a seat.
Marino entered from the other side of the room, flanked by guards Curtis didn’t know. He smiled at Curtis as his handcuffs were attached to the table.
Neither said anything until the guards left the room.
“So,” said Marino, “how’s the investigation?”
“It's going well,” said Curtis. “We’re set to make an arrest later today.”