Cassie McGraw Box Set: Books 1-3

by David Archer

  His face darkened. “Oh, yes,” he said. “It was right as the abductions began. This man called, using a machine to disguise his voice, and he told Amber that the work we do was destroying men and breaking up families, and that he was sent by God to punish us all. Why he singled her out, we never knew, but she was the only one he ever contacted.”

  I nodded. “We’ve got the same thing going on in Tulsa,” I said. “I also work as a volunteer crisis counselor, and he’s chosen me this time. Can you tell me how many calls she got?”

  He looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. I suppose learning that I was also a counselor raised me a notch in his eyes. “There were three calls,” he said. “I actually have the recordings, would you want to hear them?”

  My eye shot open. “Yes,” I said, “please.”

  He got up and opened a file cabinet drawer, and a moment later he took out a stack of CDs and handed me one. “I actually made several copies for the police back then, but they only ever took one of them. You can have that one, if you like, but let me play this one for you.” He took a second disc and inserted it into the drive on his computer. It took the old machine—I swear I saw the Windows Vista logo on the screen—a few moments to load it up, and then he hit the play icon with the mouse.

  “Hi, this is Amber.”

  A mechanical voice, the same one I’d heard before, came out of the speakers. “How many lives have you destroyed?”

  “I’m sorry?” Amber said. “Who is this?”

  “Women come to you to complain about the rightful discipline they receive from their husbands, but you tell them that it is wrong for their men to teach them the proper way. You say that the men are evil and bad, but in truth it is the women who are failing to obey the Will of God. The Holy Scriptures tell all women to submit to their husbands, as they would unto Our Lord Jesus, and to obey their husbands in all things.”

  “Wait a minute,” Amber said. “I know the Bible, and submission is about being a good wife, not about getting beaten up all the time. I don’t know who you think you are, but...”

  “You and your kind refuse to show the women their errors, so God commands me to bring you to a full knowledge of the truth. I shall say a prayer that you might learn and learn quickly, lest God command me to strike you down for your iniquity!”

  There was a click, but Amber wasn’t done. “Hey, who is this? Hello? Hello? Hey, come back here!”

  “That was the first call,” Kennedy said. “Here’s the second.” He clicked on another file and told it to play.

  “Hi, this is Amber.”

  “You refuse to learn!” said the distorted voice, and there was a vehemence in it that I had not heard before. “I have given you time, but you refuse to learn and change your ways! Must I prove to you how important this is? Must I make one of these women, whose only crime is believing your lies, pay for your sin? So be it! Choose the one who will pay!”

  “Jesus, man, you’re crazy!” Amber said. “What on Earth are you doing? Did you take all the missing women?”

  “Choose one! Name the woman who will pay the price for your failure to learn, for your continuance of evil and iniquity! If you do not choose, then I shall make the choice for you, but one of them must pay!”

  “Hey, listen, asshole, the police are onto you, you know that? They say they’ve got leads and they’re about to arrest you, and I hope they hang you from the highest damned tree they can find, you know that? Hello? Are you there? Hello?”

  He was already gone, of course. Kennedy closed the window and selected another file. “This is the last one. It came in about a month after all the abductions stopped.” He clicked the play icon.

  “Hello? This is Amber.” There was a difference in her voice, as if she had lost energy or grown tired.

  The distorted voice came again. “Your lesson is finished. The women you led into sin are now free. You will find them near Avra Valley, where El Paso Gas Road comes to its end. May their sacrifices not be in vain.”

  That was it. The line went dead, and all I heard were what sounded like soft sobs.

  “That’s all of it, I’m afraid,” Kennedy said. “Poor Amber. She told me about that call, and then the police came and that afternoon they found the bodies of the women who were taken, right where the caller said they’d be. Amber never came back, and I heard a couple weeks later that she’d taken her own life. She blamed herself for the deaths of those women, and nothing anyone could say would make her understand that it wasn’t her fault. This creature, whoever it is, he’s a madman, and I hope you’ll be able to stop him.”

  “What about your police here?” I asked. “Did they have any solid leads? I heard Amber say they did.”

  “That’s what they said on the news,” he replied, “but I think it was just an attempt to scare the guy who was doing it. It didn’t work. There were a total of thirteen women who disappeared, and all but one of them was found when the bodies were discovered.”

  I cocked my head; this was the first I’d heard about that. “What about the other one?”

  “There was never any trace of her. One of the detectives told me that they wondered if she was a legitimate runaway, never abducted at all. I knew her, she was actually here at our shelter for a while about two years ago, but she went back to her husband and said they were going to work things out. She was apparently talking to another shelter when she disappeared, and the counselors there think she might have run, too.”

  “I take it she didn’t have children?”

  “No. She was lucky in that regard, I guess. If she did run away, she managed to change her name and make a clean break with her past, though, because her family never heard from her again.”

  I’d had experience with someone changing her name and disappearing, so I certainly could believe it was possible. “What about the other victims? Was there anything particular about them that stood out to you?”

  “Well, only that there were similarities between them. All of them were in their twenties, I think, and they were all blonde-haired, though some of them probably weren’t naturally blonde. They were all somewhat petite, as well, though a few of them might have been a bit overweight.”

  Something clicked in my head, and I went over the victims I knew about. All of them, with the exception of Carolyn Stern, were blondes, and all of them could be considered petite in stature, though Wanda and Connie were both a bit on the chunky side. The little I’d learned about Bernice and Candace said they were small, but I didn’t exactly get their measurements. Carolyn was quite small, and pretty thin, but her hair was brown with a white streak down the front of it.

  Unless she had dyed it blonde. I made a mental note to find out as soon as I left Kennedy.

  I looked back at him. “That fits with the victims in Tulsa, as well, at least for most of them. I’m kind of surprised I hadn’t noticed that before. Is there anything else you might have thought of, either back then or since, that you think might help me?”

  He seemed to be trying to suck his bottom lip into his mouth for a second, then he nodded. “Yes, but I almost hesitate to mention it. Almost all of the victims were active clients of one place here in town, a counseling center called Freedom Landing. It’s run by a woman who was herself a victim some years ago, named Juanita Garza. Juanita is very emotional about helping women escape abuse, and this situation just about killed her. I know the police think the guy was targeting Amber, but I’ve often wondered if it was Juanita he was really out to destroy. Would you want to go and talk to her?”

  I smiled. “I think that might be a good idea,” I said.

  He nodded and picked up the phone from his desk, then dialed a number. I could hear it ring, and then a woman’s voice answered.

  “Juanita, it’s Allen,” he said. “Listen, you remember the thing about a year ago, when all those women disappeared? Yes, well, it’s happening again in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and I’ve been visited by a private investigator who’s looking into the case. Would you
be willing to give her some time today?”

  He listened for a moment, then smiled at me and nodded. “Okay, great,” he said. “I’ll send her right out. Um, listen, you might want to prepare yourself. Ms. McGraw has suffered some burns, and she can be quite a surprise at first glimpse. Okay, darling, I’ll talk to you later.”

  He hung up the phone and found a business card for Juanita’s office on his desk and handed it to me, then he gave me a sheepish grin. “I hope you’ll forgive me for warning her about your appearance, but Juanita is—well, let’s just say she’s extremely empathetic. If I didn’t give her a warning, she’d spend an hour just worrying about what might have happened to you, and you’d never get anything coherent out of her.”

  I shrugged. Inside, I’d actually been a little irked about it, but I wasn’t going to let him see that. “It’s no problem,” I said. “I get all kinds of reactions.”

  He squinted at me. “Would you mind if I ask...”

  I smiled as I was getting to my feet. “My fiance turned out to be a serial rapist and killer,” I said. “When I found out, he and a friend of his decided to make sure I couldn’t talk about it, but he had second thoughts. His buddy killed him, then poured gasoline on me and lit it up.” I let Freda smile, then. “He’s doing life without the possibility of parole, and I’m trying to help other women avoid similar fates. It’s amazing how our lives turn out, isn’t it?”

  Kennedy nodded, his own smile returning. “I don’t believe in fate, Ms. McGraw,” he said, “but I do believe that God allows everything to happen for a reason. Something like this, I have to believe He intended it to make you strong enough for the work He wants you to do. Perhaps stopping a monster like this one is exactly why you endured such a refining.”

  I stared at him for a moment, and then I smiled for real. “Refining fire?” I asked. “Mr. Kennedy, if that’s what it was, then I can only hope it was hot enough to give me what I need to stop this bastard. Thanks for your time.”

  ELEVEN

  I walked myself out and got into the Camaro again, then programmed my GPS with the address of Juanita’s office. The familiar voice told me to turn left and head back to I-10. I started up the car and put it in gear, then took out my phone and called Alfie.

  “What’s shakin’?”

  “Me, I got a question. Can you tell me whether Carolyn Stern had blonde hair when she was abducted?”

  “Give me a sec,” he said. “I’m looking up the latest news stories. Okay, looks like the description they are giving of her does include blonde hair. Is there something wrong with that?”

  “No, there’s nothing wrong with it,” I said. “It’s just that she normally has brown hair with a white streak in the front. Now check all the other women who have been abducted. I’m pretty sure they were all blonde, right?”

  “And you win the cigar. Incidentally, there’s been another abduction, just this morning. Leanne Hobbs, disappeared while taking her dog for a walk. The dog came home alone, and her cell phone was found broken about half a mile from her place. Police say it looks like there was a scuffle, but nobody actually saw anything.”

  “Oh, God,” I said. “That makes six, now. Leanne was also blonde?”

  “According to this picture, yeah,” Alfie said. “Let’s see, she’s five foot one, hundred and sixteen pounds, blonde hair and blue eyes, looks like the blonde is even natural. Her husband says they’ve been having problems, and she apparently told him she’s been talking to someone about going to an abuse shelter.”

  “Leanne Hobbs,” I said to myself. “It’s odd, but that name sounds familiar. If I give you my login and password, can you get into St. Mary’s computer system from there?”

  Alfie laughed. “What makes you think I need your login and password? I’ve already been in there, remember? What do you need out of it?”

  “Just take a look and see if Leanne Hobbs might have been one of our clients in the last few months. The name seems very familiar, I’m thinking I heard it at work.”

  “Gotcha,” Alfie said. “I’m checking, checking—ding, ding, ding, you win another prize. She was there about two months back, talking with a woman named Della. Looks like Della had her almost talked into going into a shelter, but she backed out at the last minute. I already checked her cell phone, and she was definitely calling Harvest of Hope in the last few weeks. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a recording of her calls because they are all gone. By the way, the recordings I got for you the other day are also gone, now.”

  I shook my head. “This case gets stranger and stranger.”

  “Yeah? How’s the new PI license?”

  I let out a sigh. “It’s great, but nobody looks at it. So far, I get the impression people think it’s just some kind of fancy jewelry.”

  “Yeah, probably, but it’s the kind of jewelry that can help you stay out of jail. That’s sort of the important thing, isn’t it?” The phone went dead and I chuckled as I dropped it back into my purse.

  Freedom Landing was housed in a small building on West Speedway Boulevard, about half a block away from where Speedway met 11th Street. I found it with no problem and parked in one of the three spots in front of the building, then got out and walked up to the door.

  A tall, pretty Hispanic woman met me there. “Ms. McGraw?” she asked, and I nodded as I offered my ID. “I’m Juanita Garza. Won’t you come in?”

  “Thank you,” I said, silently grousing because she didn’t even glance at my fancy badge. “I appreciate you giving me some of your time.”

  “It’s no problem. Allen said you’ve got a case like what happened to us last year?” She led me into a small office, about the size of the one Kennedy had been in, but with a couple of comfortable chairs in front of the desk. I sat down and nodded.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. At this point, I believe it’s actually the same perpetrator. Everything I’ve learned about what happened here says so.”

  “It was a terrible time,” Juanita said. “Nine of the women who went missing were our clients, and it just about shut us down. For a while, the police thought we were actually involved in it, somehow, but we let one of their officers sit in for several days, and they never saw anything to tie us to the crimes.” She folded her hands on her desk and looked into my eye. “Allen called me back and told me what happened to you. I’m truly sorry, but he says it’s helped you become the person you are. I know that the things I went through definitely helped me to get where I am. Are you still in pain from the burns?”

  “Sometimes, if there’s pressure on the scars, it will be painful,” I said. “Normally it isn’t enough that I really notice it, but sometimes they itch terribly, and scratching them can hurt quite a bit.”

  She shook her head sympathetically. “And yet, you get up and do what you have to do. Forgive me if I seemed amazed, but I have a brother who got a bad burn on his leg from a motorcycle accident, and he only complains all the time. I don’t think he’s left the house for more than six months.”

  I shrugged. “When I was healing, the doctors told me I was lucky, that everyone heals differently. How long ago was his accident?”

  “Oh, it was almost a year, now. He was hit by a car and run off the road, and his gas tank leaked onto his leg and caught fire. They said it was third and fourth degree burns, and they had to put new skin on his knee because it burned all the way to the bone.”

  I flinched. “Ouch! That’s worse than my burns. The only part that burned that bad on me was my left hand.” I held it up so she could see that the ring finger and pinky were actually fused together. “And a year isn’t a long time with burns; he probably does feel some very serious pain, even now. Hopefully, it’ll start to ease off pretty soon, but I know the first year for me was pure agony.”

  “Then that gives me hope for him,” Juanita said. “But we aren’t here to talk about my brother or about burns. How can I help you with this problem?”

  “Mr. Kennedy said he got the impression that the killer was a
ctually focusing on your company, that he was deliberately stalking the women you were dealing with.”

  “Yes, and some of the police thought so, as well. We tried to figure out what we had done to draw his attention, but we never did.”

  I grimaced. “That was gonna be my next question,” I said. “Did you think of anything you thought might be connected?”

  She pursed her lips and thought for a moment, then slowly nodded. “I think there was one thing,” she said, “but the police never agreed with me. I heard from one of the detectives that there were other cities who had been through this before, and one of them was in Utah, in Provo.”

  I nodded. “Yes, that was probably the second case. I think the first one was in Bakersfield, California.”

  “Well, I noticed one thing, while we were trying to think of what might have drawn this man to us, and it was that one of our counselors had moved here from Provo only a few weeks before it all began. I told the detectives, but they said they checked him out and there was no connection, but I was always—I don’t know, I guess I’d just say I was very nervous around him.”

  “Him?” I asked. “This counselor was a man?”

  “Yes,” she said. “His name was Ronald Orloff. He had worked with abused children before we hired him, as a caseworker for the state of Utah. He said he moved here because he had family who lived here and wanted to be closer to them.”

  I looked at her closely, and I could tell that she had her doubts about whether that was true. “You aren’t so sure you believe that?”

  She smiled sadly, but she shook her head. “I never did,” she said. “He never talked about his family after I hired him, and he never got any personal calls. We don’t really like personal calls when a counselor is on duty, but it’s not possible to stop them all. There’s always something that seems like a big emergency, you know, so all the counselors get personal calls once or twice a month, but Ron—he was here for most of a year, and he never got a single one. I noticed it when he’d been here a couple months, but I never asked him about it. And when the police checked him out, they said his uncle lived here, so I guess he was telling the truth, but still...” She pointed at the pictures that lined her walls. “All the counselors get their own little cubicle, ’cause I think they need a space of their own. He was the only one who never put up a picture, never even put a cup for pens on his desk. There was something about him that just—he just didn’t seem human, not like most people, you know what I mean?”