by A.R. Wise
Chapter Fourteen
Lincoln was at home reading through the casework that Jack Kline brought into the office. The burly baker hardly uttered more than a single word when he came by, and it was clear that Deborah had been right about her husband’s mixed emotions about the case getting attention again. The coming anniversary weighed heavily on him.
It was almost nine. Normally Lincoln would be at the bar, and he glanced over at one of the empty martini glasses on his kitchen counter from a few nights ago. He debated going to the kitchen and making a fresh one, but decided to focus on work instead. It was the first night in months that he didn’t have a drink.
The Kline’s previous investigator had done a good job of collecting information about Frank Harcourt. He’d followed him for weeks, snapping pictures of him everywhere he went. He obtained computer records detailing the websites Frank visited, including a variety of BDSM pages. He interviewed former girlfriends of Frank, and discovered that he didn’t just fantasize about rough sex, he practiced it.
There were pictures of one of Frank’s girlfriends with bruises on her neck. But as Lincoln looked through the notes, something became apparent. There were several times that the previous investigator referred to notes or evidence that didn’t exist. In the history that he’d compiled about Arthur Frank Harcourt, there was a distinct lack of information about the man’s time as Angel’s husband. It was as if those years had been plucked from the evidence pile and erased.
Lincoln’s phone rang. “Hello.”
“Hey Dad, I just got off work and I saw you were home. Can I come by?”
“Sure.” Lincoln grew curious and asked, “How’d you know I was home? Are you spying on me?”
“No. I can see where you’re at when you’ve got your Geolocator on.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t even know that thing was still on.”
“Can I come over?”
“Of course.”
“All right. I’ll see you in a few.”
He hung up the phone and then opened the Geolocator app that Hector had installed. He searched through the options and saw that it was set to turn itself on whenever he turned the phone on. He grumbled a curse about technology, and how it was a mystery to him.
Lincoln spent the next twenty minutes reading about Frank Harcourt’s job history, and the company he’d been working for at the time of the crime. The investigator had taken the time to detail exactly how long it would take Frank to drive from work in Denver to the scene of the crime in Boulder. The problem, of course, was that the police had acquired a toll road photograph of Frank driving along 470 at around 4:30. That would put him in Boulder at almost the same time that the police arrived. There’s no way he was the killer. Not unless the murders didn’t happen when everyone assumed they did, but that meant there would have to be someone else involved who abducted the children. Either that or, like Deborah had said, the picture the police had was faked, but the implications of that seemed dangerously conspiratorial and ludicrous.
None of it fit, and Lincoln began to realize that he was indicting Frank based solely on his sadomasochistic obsessions, something that a lot of people enjoyed responsibly with willing partners. He realized that he was pointing the blame at Frank for his predilections much the same as others had implicated Trent for his. There wasn’t enough proof to back up the theory, and as he looked through the mountains of paperwork he began to understand why the Klines had become so disheartened. This was a dead-end that just created more questions without providing a single answer.
The bell rang, and Lincoln went to buzz his daughter in. He hit the button without bothering with the speaker, and then went back to his coffee table to finish reading Frank Harcourt’s arrest record. A moment later there was a knock at the door.
He casually said, “Come on in,” expecting Darcy.
“Lincoln?” asked a familiar female voice as the door opened a crack.
“Angel, oh. Sorry, I was…”
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, no, come on in. It’s just that I thought you were my daughter. She’s on her way.”
“Should I leave?”
“No, of course not. Come in, come in. What brings you down from the mountain?”
“I felt like I needed to talk to you some more. I’ve been thinking about last night all day, and…” she walked over to the coffee table and saw the casework. “What’s this?”
“It’s… uh…” he used a piece of paper to cover up a crime scene photograph of the shed where Devin’s blood was found. “It’s information on the case. We got it from the Klines.”
“Did you talk to them?”
“Yeah, today, although it didn’t go like we expected. We always assumed they’d be more willing to help us than anyone, but I got the sense that they wanted us to drop the case. Deborah had a real hard time talking about it.”
“Really?” Angel sounded surprised. “Well, I understand how she feels. It hurts every time someone forces me to remember.”
“Yeah, that’s basically what she said too.”
The picture of the shed and Devin’s blood stains was almost completely covered, but there was a single corner protruding, and Angel glanced down at it. She pushed the top sheet over so that it covered the picture completely. “Maybe it’s time to let the case go. If the parents of the kids who went missing don’t even want you doing this, then you’ve got to ask yourself why you’re still doing it.”
“I’ve got to believe you would all want to know the truth.”
She shook her head. “Not necessarily.”
He was caught off-guard by the comment.
She elaborated, “Do you really think the Klines want to face up to the fact that their son did it? Or do you think it’s easier to just go on pretending like he didn’t, and that this is all some big dumb conspiracy where the cops and the prosecutor and everyone else hid the truth? Think about it. Of course they want you to stop looking into it, because they’re afraid you’re going to find out the truth, and it’s going to break their heart.”
“She didn’t say she wanted us to stop. She just said it was tough. The last private detective they had drained their bank account.”
“That’s too bad.” Her sympathy extended only so far as was socially expected.
The buzzer rang again, startling Angel.
“That’s probably Darcy,” said Lincoln as he walked over to buzz his daughter in. Next he went to open the door and glanced down the hall to see Darcy come into the building.
Angel was looking down at Arthur Frank Harcourt’s file on the table that Lincoln had been reading. She picked it up, and looked as if she might open it, but then let the folder drop back down onto the coffee table. “Well, I won’t bother you,” she said icily.
“No, it’s all right. You’re welcome to stay.”
“I don’t want to intrude. Just do me a favor and think about quitting the case. I’ve got… I’ve got reasons to want you to quit. I can’t go into it right now.” She glanced back down at Arthur’s file.
Darcy made it to the apartment, and Lincoln held the door open for her. “Darcy, this is Angel Harcourt.”
“Oh, hi,” said Darcy, surprised as she shook the woman’s hand.
“Hello Darcy, you’re just as pretty as your father says. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” said Darcy. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No, I was just leaving.” Angel turned to Lincoln and said, “Give it some thought, and then come and see me tomorrow evening. If you’re free.”
“Sure, that’d be great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Lincoln and Darcy watched Angel leave, and then Darcy turned to her father and said, “What the heck was that all about? I thought you were interviewing her last night. Has she been here all day? Did she stay the…”
“Stop,” said Lincoln. “Don’t make assumptions.”
“So the two of you aren’t…”
“No, come on
. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Darcy started to leaf through the papers on the coffee table. “Is all this from the Klines?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“Bentley told me they came by the office.”
“Bentley told you? Are you two…”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Dad.” She smirked at him, but he didn’t appreciate her idea of humor. “I called him because I wanted him to know I was coming to talk to you tonight.”
“Talk to me about what?”
She seemed nervous, and asked him to sit down. Lincoln obliged, and Darcy said, “I like him, Dad. But despite the fact that we live in the 21st century, he’s got it in his head that we need your blessing to start dating.”
Lincoln cringed. “Baby, you don’t want to get mixed up with a guy like him.”
“Why? What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s Daniel Barr’s nephew, for one.”
“So? What does that have to do with what sort of person he is?” She was frustrated that she even had to have this conversation. “And besides, let’s get one thing straight here, mister, I don’t need permission from you to date anyone. Got it? The only reason I’m here is because I promised Bentley I’d talk to you about this or else he was going to tell you.”
“And he’s a liar,” said Lincoln. “He lied to me about his intentions with you. I asked him point blank if he was going after you, and he told me he wasn’t. So, add that to the list of things not to like about the kid.”
“He didn’t go after me, you big dummy. I’m the one who went after him. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Aw man,” said Lincoln as he thought about her visit to the office. “Is that the reason you wanted to work with us? So that you could get close to him?”
“No,” said Darcy. “That’s just an added benefit. If you want to know the truth, it was Mom who convinced me to quit my job and go work for you.”
Lincoln hadn’t expected that. “Your Mom?”
“Yeah. I told her about your offer, and she encouraged me to take you up on it. She loved the idea.”
“She did?”
Darcy nodded. “She thought it’d be good for you. She knows how you always wanted to be a private detective, back before you got into the corporate consulting stuff.”
“What does she care?”
“She wants you to be happy.”
“Then tell her to come back and give me a chance.” The comment sounded so pathetic that it even surprised him.
Darcy was stunned by the poignant honesty of his comment, and it silenced her until she thought of something else to say. “What did… uh… What did Ms. Harcourt have to say?”
“She wants me to quit the case,” said Lincoln, thankful that Darcy had changed the subject. “And believe it or not, the Klines aren’t too excited about us looking into it either. They said it’s because it dredges up too many bad memories, but I got the impression they’re afraid we’ll find out Trent was guilty. That would break their heart. They spent so many years certain someone else did it. They were focused on Mr. Harcourt.”
“Bentley told me about the toll road photo.”
“Yeah, that pretty much takes the steam out of our case here. Back to square one. If it wasn’t him, then I don’t have any idea who could be responsible.”
“What if he was working with Angel?” asked Darcy as she glanced over at the door where Ms. Harcourt had recently been standing.
“Working with her how? To conspire to kill a couple kids?”
“Maybe she did it, and he helped her cover it up.”
Lincoln gave it a moment’s thought, but was quick to discount the idea, “No, I didn’t get the sense she was lying to me. I’m pretty good at being able to tell when I’m being lied to.”
Darcy laughed, quick and sharp, and then saw that he wasn’t joking, which made her laugh even harder. “You can’t be serious. Dad, you’re the worst at telling when someone’s lying.”
“I am not.”
“Yes you are. It’s not a bad thing. I think it’s actually kind of sweet. It’s why you were great at motivating people. You always see the good in people, but you’re blind to the bad.”
“That’s not true,” said Lincoln.
“Yes it is.”
“Like what? Give me an example.”
Darcy thought for a minute and then said, “Okay, I’ll give you one. Remember Nanner?”
“Your stuffed monkey? Yeah, what about him?”
“I knew Mom stitched him up. I remember her taking him out of my room. The next day I pretended like I thought it was magic. That was around the time I was figuring out the truth about the tooth fairy and Santa Claus, and all that stuff. I kept pretending to believe for your sake.”
“What? No. I don’t think you’re remembering it right. You were positive that monkey was fixed by the band aids you put on it.”
Darcy chuckled and said, “Dad, trust me. I remember it just fine.” She jabbed her finger into his chest and said, “You’re the one who’s not remembering it right. You’re the one who couldn’t tell when his little girl was lying to him. I used to get away with so much. You don’t even want to know.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“Yes I do.”
She raised her eyebrows as if already aware of how shocking this would be for him. “All right. Do you remember Pete? My boyfriend in high school?”
“Yeah, sure. What about him?”
“Do you remember my first date with him?”
Lincoln nodded. “Sure. Mom made you wear that babushka because it was chilly and you barely had any hair at the time.”
“Yeah, well, that wasn’t our first date. I’d been dating him for almost a year, but I didn’t want you or Mom to know because I didn’t think you’d approve. So we snuck around.”
“Snuck around? How? We were with you all the time.”
“Not all the time. Remember those trips to the mall, where you’d let me go meet my friends. I was actually meeting up with Pete.”
Lincoln groaned, and then couldn’t help but laugh a little. “All right, don’t tell me anymore. You’ve made your point. Don’t ruin my perception of my perfect little angel of a daughter.”
“There’s no such thing as a perfect angel. Ms. Harcourt included.”
“Maybe, but I still can’t buy into the idea that she murdered those kids. I think we’re going to have to face the fact that, as it stands, Trent Kline is the most likely suspect. Everything points right back to him. It’s like the lead investigator in the case said, you just put together enough pieces that you can convince yourself you know the truth, because you’re never going to finish the puzzle.”
“Don’t give up,” said Darcy as she perused the crime scene photographs. “If it was easy to solve then someone would’ve done it already. But do me a favor and bring Bentley or Hector with you tomorrow when you go see Ms. Harcourt. Just in case.”
“You mean you and Bentley aren’t hooking up on a secret rendezvous tomorrow night?”
“No. I’m too busy. I’ve got work, and the cancer resource meeting, and then tomorrow night I’ve got to get with the girls to practice. We’re going to the studio on Saturday to record the EP. I’m not going to have a second to breathe tomorrow.”
“And you want your Dad to go spend time with your new boyfriend? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“He’s not my boyfriend yet, but you can do me a favor and tell him that you’d be okay with him taking me out. And besides, if you’re going to meet Ms. Harcourt, you should have someone along for the ride who’s not as gullible as you.” She teased him with a nudge and then checked the time. “I’d better get going. I need all the sleep I can get. Big day tomorrow.”
Lincoln stopped her by grabbing her hand. “Good luck with everything tomorrow. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said, amused by his ardent affectio
n. She tried to move away, but he held tightly onto her hand. “What’s up?”
He sighed. “It’s just… All this talk about losing your kids.” Lincoln shook his head, closed his eyes, and let out a long breath. “It’s tough. Listening to Deborah Kline talk about losing her kids… It brought me right back to…”
“Dad, stop.”
“I just want you to know how much I love you. You’re my whole world. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
“I know,” said Darcy. “That’s why Nanner’s still sitting on my dresser.”
Lincoln was perplexed. “What do you mean?”
“Moving out was scary for me. You and Mom had always been there to protect me, and then all of the sudden I was going to be on my own. It was nerve-racking. But I know you and Mom will be there for me, no matter what. That silly old monkey’s a good reminder of it.”
She hugged him, and kissed his cheek. “I’ve got to go home.”
He reluctantly let her leave.
Arthur
It was the middle of the night, and there were sleeping ducks nestled near the shore of the pond outside of Darcy’s apartment building. Arthur stood beside his truck, dialing her number on a new burner phone.
“Hi, is this Miss Pierce in apartment 3-A?”
She was groggy. “Um, yeah. Who’s this?”
“Hi, I’m real sorry to bug you like this. I know it’s late.” Crickets chirped in the parking lot and there were toads croaking in the pond behind Arthur as he stood looking up at Darcy Pierce’s balcony. He had on the same outfit he’d worn when he killed Becky Kyle. “My name’s Bill, and I work with the maintenance crew here at the complex. There’s a leak in one of the units beneath you, and we think it might be coming from your apartment. Could you go check your bathroom to see if there’s any standing water – maybe in the tub or under the sink.”
“Sure. Hold on.”
This was working exactly like before. He listened as she went to the bathroom. He heard her flick on the lights and open the cabinets beneath the sink.
“No, there’s nothing wrong up here.”
“Oh, well, geez. I really hate to do this to you since it’s so late, but I’m going to need to come up there and poke around under the sink. There’s a good chance we’re dealing with a leaky pipe, and the way these floors are designed I can’t get to it from down here.”
“Can’t this wait until morning?”
“I wish it could. At this rate, your neighbor down here’s going to have a flooded apartment by morning.”
“All right. Give me a few minutes to pick up a little.”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll go grab some tools from my truck and I’ll be up in a minute. Thanks for this.”
Arthur hung up the phone and put the burner in a bag of trash. He stuffed the phone’s clamshell packaging in the bag as well, and tied the top. He would throw that out later, in a dumpster somewhere far from here. He picked up the gallon of water and got out of the truck to start dousing himself. As he did, he looked up at Darcy’s balcony and saw the faint glow of a light on. He felt giddy. This was it. This would be the kill that matched the one ten years earlier.
He had to get this right.
He remembered Darcy Pierce. She’d been one of Betty’s friends. He recalled participating in a bake sale meant to raise funds to help pay for her hospital bills. He found that ironic, considering how he would be the one to murder her.
Arthur wouldn’t rush it this time. His experience with Becky Kyle had been ultimately unsatisfying. Over the past ten years, Arthur had experimented with his compulsion. He relegated the murder of Betty Kline to simply an accident, although he’d always known that it was more than that. Since then, he hired prostitutes who were willing to submit to sadism, and it was during his time with them that he discovered how domination was a turn-on for him.
To see a woman tied up and pleading for release; to be the one in total control. That’s what he needed.
Since the murder of Betty Kline there’d been two other accidental murders where his lust and passion had gone too far. Both of those women had been cut up and disseminated throughout the state, their chunks rotting or eaten, never to be found. Then came this week, on the cusp of the ten year anniversary of Betty’s death. The meth-head prostitute he murdered at the start of the week had been his fourth murder, and the final crack in the dam. Next, Becky Kyle proved to be a good exercise, but only served to strengthen his understanding of his own desires. Her death was over far too quick. Arthur discovered that the lead up to the murder, when the woman was tied up and pleading for her life, was the best part. Now, with Darcy Pierce, he would achieve his ultimate experience. She would die perfectly.
Arthur wound up the leash and choke collar and stuffed it into his back pocket where it bulged. He covered the leash with his shirt, and then put on his tool belt. He stuffed zip ties into his pockets, and then put his pistol in the oversized satchel attached to his belt. Finally, he filled the syringe with the drug that he’d extracted from morning glory seeds. His expertise with the drug would pay off tonight. He was ready, but he took a moment to run through a mental check list. This was too important to screw up with a careless mistake.
After being certain he was ready, Arthur headed up to Darcy’s apartment. He paused at her door, took a deep breath, and then pushed the doorbell. He saw a shadow move across the peephole, and he lowered his head so that the bill of his hat covered his face.
“Hi,” said Darcy as she opened the door. The chain was still on it. She wasn’t going to let him in.
Arthur’s heart raced. Something was wrong. Had she heard the news reports about the murder in Loveland?
“How do I know you actually work for the complex?”
Arthur faked a laugh and then motioned down at his sopping wet clothes. “I could take you downstairs and show you the mess if you’d like.” He smiled at her, and made the mistake of showing her his face. She looked into his blue/grey eyes.
“Do I know you?” asked Darcy. “Were you at the concert last night?”
Arthur shook his head and said, “You’ve got me mixed up with someone else. Let me in so we can get this over with.”
“Do you have a key?”
“A key to what?”
“A key to my apartment,” said Darcy. “You’ve got one, right? If you’re with maintenance then you have to have keys to the apartments. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to close the door and lock it. If you’re with maintenance, then use your key to unlock it and you can get to work. Otherwise, you can go fuck yourself.”
“Sure, all right,” said Arthur as his mind raced. She was about to close the door, and he knew he had to act fast.
Arthur rammed his shoulder into the door, causing Darcy to yelp out in shock. The chain didn’t give, but Darcy fell away from the door, giving him another shot at it. He backed up and charged a second time. The chain’s mount ripped out of the frame, taking a chunk of wood with it.
Darcy had a knife. She’d been suspicious of his call since the beginning, and had armed herself before answering the door. As Arthur staggered into the apartment, off balance from his break in, she lunged. Darcy aimed for the intruder’s chest, but the knife glanced across him instead of sticking in. She cut a gash across his ribs, bringing an immediate gush of blood.
“Help!” She screamed as she attacked. She aimed better, and plunged the butcher knife deep into Arthur’s side, but he’d recovered from his initial imbalance, and his frame towered over her lithe build. He breached the gap between them, and slapped his grubby hand over her mouth to silence her. She bit down hard, ripping at his palm like a dog trying to tear meat off a bone. He ignored the pain and tried to catch her hand as she continued to stab at him. He missed, and she got another good strike at his abdomen before he was able to grasp her wrist.
The door was gaping wide. There were splinters of wood on the carpet. It was only a matter of time before someone came to investigate. He had to pu
t an end to this now.
Arthur saw the nearby counter top of the island that separated the dining area from the kitchen and forced Darcy over that way. He released his hold over her mouth to grab the side of her head. He thrust her down before she could scream, slamming her into the counter so hard that a chunk broke off the corner, revealing the flimsy particle board beneath. Prescription bottles rattled and fell before rolling off the edge to hit the ground beside their felled owner. Darcy whimpered, dazed and badly wounded, but not unconscious.
Arthur straddled her and wrapped his strong hands around her neck, feeling for the pulse. She squirmed, but was too hurt to fight back with much intensity. He squeezed while looking over at the entrance.
“Stupid bitch,” he said under his breath as he choked her.
Arthur knew he should kill her and flee. The noise they’d made was certain to attract attention. Any minute someone might show up at the door to see what’d happened. Or worse, someone might’ve already called the cops. He had to kill her and run.
The pressure against her arteries did the job, and she fell unconscious. He took the opportunity to get up and go to the door. Next he fished out his pistol, choke collar, and syringe.
“Fucking stupid bitch,” he said as he looked out through the peephole, certain someone would come along any minute. He thought he heard footsteps on the concrete stairs, and he tried to lock the deadbolt, but when he’d broken in the door had shifted on its hinges, and now the lock didn’t line up properly. He pressed his side against the door to keep it shut.
Darcy coughed and rolled to her side. She was already waking up.
“You keep your mouth shut,” he said with a snarl. “You hear me, bitch? You keep your mouth shut. If you yell, then I’ll kill you and whoever else is here. Got it?”
She was reaching for the knife. There was blood everywhere, speckling the white carpet and gushing from the multiple wounds on his side.
“Don’t bring a knife to a gunfight,” said Arthur as he pointed the gun at her.
She ignored his threat as she got up on her hands and knees, the knife in her grip. She was a fighter, and he knew that she would attack him again if given the opportunity.
The footsteps outside were growing louder, but Arthur knew he had to leave the door to go and subdue Darcy. He moved towards her, and the door crept open a crack. The situation was already bad, and it was about to get worse. He hurried over to Darcy and put his boot down on top of the blade to pin it to the floor. He put the barrel of the gun to the back of her head and commanded her to get down. She didn’t, so he forced her to the floor and then put his knee down on the back of her neck.
Someone was talking outside in the hall. They were coming this way. He aimed the gun through the slight crease the open door afforded, and tried to steady himself as Darcy struggled beneath him.
He heard a man’s laugh, and another person saying something that sounded muffled from where Arthur was. Shadows passed across the gap in the door, and Arthur realized the people outside were oblivious to what was happening in the apartment. They were just neighbors returning home after a late night out.
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, and then chuckled as he said, “That was a close one.”
Darcy was sputtering beneath him, still trying to fight back.
“You need to keep your mouth shut. Do you understand me? I know everything about you, Darcy Pierce. I know your dad, and your mom. I know your boyfriend. I know everything about you, and if you don’t do exactly as I say then I’ll go pay a visit to everyone you care about after I’m done killing you. Do you understand?”
He released the pressure on her neck to allow her to speak.
“Fuck you.”
Arthur forced the choke collar around her head and down to her neck. She tried to bite at his fingers, so he punched her as a warning. He got the collar on, and then pulled until it constricted her breathing. He was on her back, pulling at the leash and forcing her head up. She clawed at her throat, trying desperately to get her fingers between the cord and her skin to allow her to breathe.
“We’re going to have fun together. And you’re going to do what I say or I’ll kill you right here and now. Got it?” He released the pressure and she gasped for air. She coughed, but didn’t answer. “Do you understand?”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said with a raw throat. “You don’t scare me.”
“Give me time.”
“I’m not afraid of dying,” she said. “I haven’t been afraid of it for years.”
“Then I’ll figure out something else to scare you. I’m sure I can think of something. I’ll figure out how to make you cry, just like Betty did.”
That was a shock to her. He knew it would be. He got off her, certain he’d earned her silence and obedience now. He wrapped the leash around his hand, under complete control of her as he moved to stare face to face with her. If she fought back, then he could pull the leash and choke her again.
“That’s right. You want to know who killed Betty Kline? Well, you’re looking at him.” He smiled. “Do you recognize me, Darcy? Do you remember me?”
He choked her before she could answer, and fished out the syringe filled with the drug that would incapacitate her.