Blind River: A Thriller

by Ben Follows

  “It’s not our responsibility," said Frankie. "We focus entirely on the missing girls. Don’t even think about Marino. Johnson’s sending a separate team to help the police recapture Marino, a team that specializes in prisoner retrieval.”

  Curtis nodded, gripping the railing. He had put Marino in prison. Marino wanted his blood. Until that moment it hadn’t mattered. Now Marino was out in the world, somewhere he could get revenge.

  “I hate this fucking town,” said Curtis, walking back into the motel room. He would listen to Johnson, but he knew, given the opportunity, he would put a bullet into Marino’s head.

  The immensity of what had happened followed them through the town to the police station. Outside the station was a ragged band of protesters holding signs proclaiming that the police were unable to protect them and that Sam Marino was going to destroy the town they had worked so hard to rebuild. Others shouted that they wanted a return to Marino rule.

  They was no threat, however, without Natasha’s ability to focus the crowds anger. The protesters didn’t react to Curtis and Frankie when they arrived.

  Chief Tucker welcomed them into his office, where Trevor was already waiting. He explained that Monica was back at the hospital to give the nurse a break. Curtis nodded. He wondered whether she'd gotten in contact with Nate to ask about Harry and Marino's escape.

  They sat across from Chief Tucker, who looked as though he hadn’t slept at all the previous night. A secretary came into the office with a steaming cup of coffee and he thanked her, downing the black coffee in a single gulp.

  He let out a long sigh, then looked at the two FBI agents. “You already know about the jailbreak?”

  Frankie nodded. “How did it happen? Aren’t there failsafe’s?”

  “Nate Williams never showed up for work last night," said Tucker. "We still don’t know where he is. Harry Ochre took his shift. He was working for twelve hours straight and made a mistake. He didn’t lock Marino’s cell. Marino attacked him while he was alone. It's never happened before. The guards weren’t properly trained. Marino got into the control console for the front gate, put a gun to the guard’s head, and forced him to open both gates. One of the snipers got a shot off but missed. You can only do so much training. The real thing will always be a different beast.”

  Frankie nodded. “Director Johnson is sending an FBI team who specializes in prisoner retrieval. We focus on the murdered girls.”

  Tucker rubbed his eyes. “With you two, the retrieval team for the pond, and now this, we may as well set up an FBI field office.”

  Frankie smiled at him. “Bobby Randall is still in the jail?”

  “Yeah. He’s eaten and gotten some rest, but he’s getting a little pent up. I think he’ll talk.”

  “Great.”

  Curtis turned and looked back at Trevor, who smiled awkwardly. He looked uncomfortable, as though he'd never thought he'd have to deal with a situation like this. Curtis once again tried to gather some recollection of Trevor from high school, but once again came up empty.

  “What about Williams?” said Curtis, turning back to Tucker. “Where the hell is he?”

  “He was at Sally’s Bar and Grill last night,” said Chief Tucker. “He left half an hour before his shift was going to start. We don’t know what happened next. We have a team looking right now.”

  “Is it possible Marino planned that to escape?”

  Tucker shrugged. “I don’t see how. It would be an extremely convoluted plan. I think Marino saw an opportunity and took it.”

  Curtis nodded. He looked at Trevor. “You find Nate Williams. It might be related and it might not be, but we need to know.”

  Trevor nodded and stood, then walked past them and out of the station.

  Curtis and Frankie made sure Chief Tucker was clear on their plan and walked to the jail.

  The two police officers tasked with guarding it lounged outside the jail cells and admitted them when they approached. Three of the four cells had been newly occupied over the previous twenty-four hours.

  Ken Hagerty was still slouched in his cell. He looked up with pleading eyes when Curtis passed.

  “The deal's still available,” said Curtis. “Confess and we’ll let you go. Your bail hearing is set for tomorrow morning.”

  Ken glared at him and Curtis ignored him. Across from Ken was Natasha. Somehow her complete calmness was the most unnerving thing in the jail. She looked too calm and collected for someone who had spent the night in jail. Even her hair was only mildly messy.

  The third cell was occupied by the newest arrival, the most worried and the most panicked. Bobby Randall paced back and forth in his cell, muttering to himself. He had heavy bags under his eyes, and his clothes were wrinkled and disheveled. He was either an extremely good actor, or he was exhibiting behaviors inconsistent with the actions of the killer.

  “Bobby, come with us,” said Frankie, opening the cell door with keys she'd gotten from the guards.

  Bobby was led through the jail. Ken jumped to his feet as he walked past, his eyes wide and filled with fury. Curtis could imagine what was taking place.

  Bobby would have lied to Ken about why he’d been arrested. Ken didn’t know the person suspected of killing his daughter was in the cell right next to him. Now that the FBI agents were leading him away, though, the pieces came together in his head.

  On the other side of the cell block, Natasha kept grinning, as though she was watching an amusing spectacle. Curtis could almost see the story she was writing in her mind. She was probably even thinking that this story might catapult her to something greater, the inside story of a serial killer investigation.

  Ken started to shout at them when they exited the jail but the door cut him off.

  They led Bobby to an interview room. He sat in the chair opposite the one-way mirror. It was a conscious decision not to cuff him. He would be more willing to talk if he didn’t feel like a prisoner.

  Frankie mirandized him and they took their seats.

  “So, Bobby,” said Curtis. “Have anything you want to tell us?”

  “I swear I didn’t do anything," said Bobby. "I had nothing to do with whatever happened to those girls.”

  “Let’s begin with the girls,” said Curtis, taking control of the interview. “Did you know the girls who died? Ashley? Harriet? Darcy? Miranda?”

  Bobby avoided his gaze. “I knew them.”

  “How did you know them?”

  “They were just around. I knew their parents.”

  “Were they at the bar?”

  “Yes, I mean, sometimes.”

  “Bobby. You need to be honest with me right now. Confessing to a lesser crime will get you off multiple murder charges. You should know that you're the only suspect right now.”

  Bobby looked at Frankie as though asking for help, but her blank expression didn’t waver. He turned back to Curtis, hesitated, turned back to Frankie. “I gave them some alcohol, okay? That’s all. I gave them beer, then they went on their way. They wanted to pay me. Instead, I made them promise they would stay safe. I didn’t give them enough to get drunk, just enough to have a good time. If I hadn’t, they would have gotten it somewhere else.”

  Curtis nodded. “Kids will get alcohol no matter what.”

  “Exactly. That’s all I did.”

  “With which of the girls?”

  “All of them, except for Miranda O’Connell. She didn’t take any. She didn’t drink, as far as I know.”

  Curtis grinned.

  Bobby fell back into his chair, his smile disappearing, as though he knew he’d made a mistake but didn’t know what it was.

  “I’m going to tell you something we haven’t released to the public yet,” said Curtis. “We believe Miranda O’Connell is still alive.”

  Bobby frowned for a moment, processing the new information. His eyes opened wide. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It seems oddly convenient, don’t you think?”

  Bobby paused for
a moment. “I want a lawyer. I should never have let you take me in here without a lawyer. The guys in prison told me to get a lawyer as soon as I was arrested, but I trusted you, Curtis. I didn’t need to tell you about Marino, but I did. And why did I do that? Because I was your friend, and I wanted to help save those girls, you fucking dick.”

  Curtis stood without another word. “You’ll get your lawyer. Then we’ll be back. But before then you'll have to be put back in the cells with Ken Hagerty. He’ll know exactly why you’re here.”

  Bobby looked nervous, but he didn’t cave.

  Frankie stood as well. They left the room and told one of the officers to get Bobby a lawyer.

  “M.E.?” said Frankie.

  “May as well," said Curtis.

  They walked through the police station, passing by Matt Oberman and Joe Hagerty, who nodded politely as they passed. Both looked serious.

  Once they were out of earshot, Frankie said, “It must be hard on them, being in the middle of all of this with their families so involved. They can’t even take the time off because we need all the manpower we can get.”

  “I know,” said Curtis, looking over his shoulder as the two officers walked toward the jail, toward where the man accused of brutally murdering their loved ones was being held.

  Curtis and Frankie found Dr. Novak in the Medical Examiner’s Office, reading a Tess Gerritsen novel. She looked up when they entered and dog-eared her page.

  “I was taking a break," she said. "I’ve got most of the autopsies done.”

  “What have you got?” said Frankie.

  “Not much,” said Dr. Novak, standing and walking out of the room, the FBI agents behind her. “The bodies are too decomposed to find much. I’ve received the medical files on the four girls, but thus far those haven’t been much help. There are two things I've discovered which I think are important. The first is that all four bodies showed signs of frostbite.”

  “Frostbite?” said Curtis as they walked into the room where the bodies were covered in sheets. “Frostbite from what?”

  Novak shrugged. “Anything from having been dunked into a bath of ice cubes to being in a cold climate. I did a semester working in the northern arctic during college, and that’s the only other time I’ve seen anything like this.”

  “That’s odd.” Curtis made a mental note of it. “What about blood types? Have you matched those?”

  Novak shook her head. “Not yet. We have the positive ID’s so it didn’t seem urgent. Is there something I should know?”

  Frankie nodded. “We don’t think the body identified as Miranda O’Connell is actually her. We believe it's another victim of the killer whose body he hid in the same place. You understand we can't let this get out to the public.”

  Novak processed this information then said, “That explains the second thing I was going to tell you.”

  Frankie raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

  Dr. Novak walked over to the body which had been identified as Miranda O’Connell. She pulled back the sheet to reveal the disintegrated flesh of the face. “This body is different from the others in two ways. The first is that it is far more decomposed. It’s been in the water longer than the others by a significant margin.”

  Frankie nodded. “And the other thing?”

  “She’s older," said Novak. "She has a more mature body shape. I would put her in her mid to late thirties at the time of death. There's also signs of a C-section.”

  Curtis frowned. “That doesn’t fit the targets. Why would the killer attack someone so different than his usual targets?”

  “Maybe they were all crimes of opportunity,” said Frankie.

  Novak crossed her arms. "Then where's Miranda O'Connell?"

  “Our working theory is she’s still alive," said Curtis. "She ran away from her overbearing parents. The crime scene is too distinct. If we take her out, patterns start emerging.”

  “We had a few case studies like that at school.” Novak sighed. “I’ll do the blood typing tests and see if I can get a confirmation that this isn’t Miranda O’Connell. I heard you made an arrest?”

  Frankie frowned. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “One of the officers. Oberman and Hagerty were talking about it.”

  “Don’t let that get out," said Frankie sternly. "It’s supposed to be private.”

  “Sure thing, Agent.” Novak had begun the sentence with a sarcastic tone, but tempered it as she continued, as though remembering who she was talking to. She cleared her throat and in a more serious tone said, “I’ll get to work.”

  43

  Trevor walked up the Matheson’s' front walk. The two officers assigned to finding Nate Williams followed.

  Trevor wished he didn’t have to come here. Oscar Matheson had been through enough already, but Sally from Sally’s Bar and Grill had been adamant that a drunk Kendra Matheson had left the bar on the arm of Nate Williams. No one had seen them after that, and so the only logical conclusion was either they’d gone back to the Matheson’s' house and lost track of time, or something had happened.

  Trevor knocked and heard a grumble from inside. The door flew open. Oscar Matheson didn’t look drunk. He looked scared and angry.

  “Where’s Kendra?” he said.

  “Mr. Matheson, I'm Detective Trevor Marshall. We’re looking for Kendra.“

  “Where is she?”

  “We don’t know. She was with Nate Williams last night, and we can’t find either of them.”

  “She isn’t dead?” said Oscar.

  “No, Mr. Matheson. She’s not dead. We just need to find her.”

  “Thank God.” Oscar fell to his knees. Tears began running down his face. “I was so worried.”

  “Mr. Matheson,” Trevor put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Trevor through tear soaked eyes. “When was the last time you saw Kendra? We need to speak to her.”

  “I haven’t seen her since we yesterday."

  “Do you know where she was going after that?”

  Oscar shook his head. “She doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “Thank you, we’ll be in touch, Mr. Matheson.”

  “If you find her, please tell me.”

  “We’ll let you know.”

  “No matter what?”

  “No matter what.”

  Oscar nodded, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  44

  Natasha leaned back against the cell wall and watched as Bobby Randall was led past. She tried to commit everything to memory, knowing she had a front row seat to a story that could launch her career. The Blind River Observer had never been good enough. It had never given her the reach or the power she deserved.

  Ken was in his cell, his face a mask of fury that only a grieving father could have achieved. He remained silent as the guards led Bobby Randall to the cell adjacent to his, locked him in, then walked out. Bobby Randall looked petrified.

  Natasha grinned as the guards disappeared through the door. She caught a glimpse of Officers Joe Hagerty and Matt Oberman on the other side. They were talking with the guards outside.

  Ken took a deep breath, as though readying his onslaught of insults and attacks on the man who had killed his daughter. He leaned through the bars and looked sideways toward the cell where Bobby sat.

  Natasha smiled. Something was going to happen, and she was going to have a front row seat.

  45

  Curtis and Frankie were leaving the station when Bobby’s lawyer arrived. He was scrawny and his suit was too big. He introduced himself as Thomas Goldstein.

  Frankie explained the situation to him. While they were talking, Curtis’s phone rang. He picked it up and motioned to Frankie that he needed to take it. She nodded and continued talking to Goldstein while Curtis walked away and answered the call.

  “Hey, Monica,” he answered. “What’s up?”

  There was no response except for a mild sobbing and the sound of footsteps in the background. Curtis could feel a l
ump growing on his heart. Somehow he already knew what was going to be said.

  There was the sound of Monica taking a deep breath, as if to prepare herself.

  “Dad’s dead.”

  46

  Curtis walked through the halls of the hospital in a trance. The nurses moved to avoid him. Somehow, in the back of his mind, he was thinking about how the hall would be much nicer if it was blue instead of a gloomy beige.

  He passed by the room where Zach O’Reilly was and nodded to Mr. O'Reilly, sitting beside the bed. Zach was awake and gave him a smile. Apparently, Ken Hagerty wouldn’t be tried for murder. Just kidnapping and attempted murder.

  Curtis turned into the room. Monica was sitting in the chair below their father's bed, her head bowed, motionless. A doctor beside the bed introduced himself as Doctor Larson. He explained that Gordon Mackley had had another stroke just as he had passed the twenty-four-hour mark. His heart had been unable to deal with it. They had tried unsuccessfully to resuscitate him. Curtis listened with a blank expression, unable to process the information.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off his father, lying in bed, his body motionless. Even though he'd seen his father sleeping before, there was a lack of motion now which seemed impossible. He was so still.

  The images of the bodies of the missing girls, desecrated and rotting from their time in the river, charged into his mind. He couldn’t help but imagine his father below the ground, his body slowly returning to the soil. He always knew when he looked at dead bodies that they'd been a person with hopes, fears, feelings, loves and hates, but it was entirely different when it was someone he was close to.

  “Can you give us a minute?” he said to the doctor.

  Larson nodded. “A nurse will be outside the door. I'm sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks.”

  When Larson was gone, Curtis fell into a chair beside Monica, and they looked at the once great Gordon Mackley. Now he was just flesh and bone, losing the essence that had made him who he was. This was where Frankie would have said something about Gordon being in a better place now, but Curtis didn’t really believe that.