Abducted

by T. R. Ragan

  Grim lines bracketed his mouth as he plowed his fingers through his hair. “Wow.” He turned toward the kitchen sink and stared out the window overlooking a dead lawn. After a quiet moment settled between them, she wondered what he was thinking. She didn’t have to wonder for long.

  “When are you going to get over your obsession with finding Mary?”

  “Probably when I find her.”

  “After all this time you’re still in denial. I had no idea.”

  “It’s happened before,” Jessica said.

  “What?”

  “Missing people have been found. Alive and thriving, in fact.”

  “Name one.”

  “Elizabeth Smart. Shawn Hornbeck—”

  Her brother walked to the picnic table and took a seat across from her. He looked tall and broad shouldered. Somewhere along the way, he had grown up. He looked older and wiser, making her wonder if he looked anything like the father they hadn’t seen since Mary disappeared. Mom had torn every picture of him from photo books and framed pictures around the house. Not one memory of her father remained. Her brother reached an arm out and put his hand over hers. “It’s time to let it go, Jess.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I loved her too, but Mary never would have run away.”

  “What if whoever took her brainwashed her? You know, convinced her that we didn’t love her. After a few years, she might have started to believe what she was hearing. Maybe he changed her name. I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately and it happens.”

  He pulled his hand away. “I think—oh, never mind...it doesn’t matter what I think. You sound like Mom.” He stood.

  She blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

  He leaned forward and dropped his hands palms down on the table. “If you’re not careful, Jess, you’re going to end up just like her. After Mary disappeared, she lost it. She gave up on herself and on us.” He gestured with his chin toward the other room. “Go look at her. For years now she’s been in limbo, unable to move on. Now she’s drowning herself in booze. If you don’t let it go, that’s going to be you.” He straightened and before Jessica could tell him the rest of the story, about working with Lizzy Gardner and finding the connection, the key to their older sister’s whereabouts, he was gone. The door slammed shut behind him.

  Jessica had already gone back to Lizzy’s office and made a couple of phone calls. Sure enough, the man had a record a mile long. He’d served time for indecent exposure and for selling videotapes of teenage porn.

  The moment Jessica had stepped into the house and saw her brother, she’d hoped he might come along for the ride. She sighed. Lizzy had yet to return her call, which worried her. Had Lizzy already gone to his house? Since Lizzy was the one who had asked her to add his name to the list, it made sense that she might have gone to his house already.

  There was no way Jessica was going to call the police. They would need a search warrant. Realizing she’d already wasted too much time, Jessica went to the laundry room. The gun was right where she saw it last. She scooped the gun up, pushed detergent and fabric softener out of her way, and grabbed the Tupperware bowl filled with ammunition.

  The sound of her mother’s voice caught her off guard. “Mary,” she called.

  Mom was stretched out on the couch just as her brother had said she was. Her eyes were half open as she reached out a pale hand. An empty bottle of gin lay on the floor. “Mary, is that you?”

  Jessica took her Mom’s hand, surprised by how cold she felt. “Yes, it’s me. It’s Mary.”

  The corners of Mom’s mouth tilted upward. “You came home.”

  Jessica squeezed her frail hand and tried to picture her mom the way she used to be...vibrant and full of life—Donna Reed in the flesh. “I have to go, Mom, but I’ll be back soon. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Chapter 29

  Saturday, February 20, 2010 4:33 PM

  Jared, Jimmy, and Lizzy stood in the backyard near the pool outside Nancy Moreno’s house. They watched as two separate body bags were hauled off to the crime lab where the contents of each would be carefully examined for blood, hair, fibers, and prints belonging to anyone other than Moreno.

  Jared had found Moreno’s body in the laundry room clothes hamper downstairs. Lizzy had found Moreno’s head upstairs in the bathroom sink. If Nancy Moreno had worried more about her life than her reputation, Lizzy thought, she might still be alive.

  For the last five minutes, Lizzy held her phone to her ear. She finally gave up and clicked her cell shut. “Jessica’s still not answering.”

  “We’ll stop by your office after we’re done here,” Jared offered.

  Jimmy stood next to Jared. As always, Jimmy wore a dark suit, well-polished shoes, and a cynical scowl. Seconds ago, a crime scene technician had handed Jimmy a plastic bag. Inside the bag was the paper stuffed in Moreno’s mouth, a bloodied note from one of Lizzy’s therapy sessions with Linda Gates.

  “How could Nancy Moreno have gotten into Linda Gates’ office?” Jimmy asked.

  “Nancy has been one of Linda’s clients for many years,” Lizzy answered.

  “Has anyone talked to Dr. Gates?”

  “I called her at home,” Lizzy said. “She was shocked to hear what had happened. She called me back ten minutes ago to let me know she’d gone to her office and my file was, in fact, missing.”

  “How would Moreno steal the file in the first place?”

  “Dr. Gates believes Nancy took the file during her last visit only a few days ago. Dr. Gates also mentioned seeing a strange man hanging around the bus stop. Apparently the man was watching them from the street corner while Nancy was at her office. Linda called the police the moment she spotted him, but the man disappeared before they arrived.”

  “We need to get someone over there and get a full report.”

  “It’s done,” Jared said. “Hank is on his way.”

  “What about the kid you met at the coffee shop this morning?”

  “He’s afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “The man who hired him to deliver the money to Lizzy’s office threatened to come after him if he talked,” Jared said. “I had someone follow the kid after he left the coffee shop though.”

  Lizzy raised an eyebrow. She had no idea.

  “He lives in an apartment building close to Cosumnes River College. His name is Russell Parker.”

  “He said he’d have to think about meeting with a forensic artist,” Lizzy told Jimmy.

  “Does he realize were dealing with a serial killer?”

  Lizzy nodded. “We told him.”

  “He’s scared,” Jared repeated. “He’s not thinking straight. I think he’ll come around though.”

  Jimmy stopped a detective as he passed by. “What did you get from the neighbors?”

  “So far, nothing. Nobody saw anything suspicious. No strange cars parked near the house. The woman across the street is a stay-at-home mom. She said her kitchen window looks directly at Moreno’s house. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary when she was washing dishes around the same time Moreno would have been on the phone.” He excused himself and walked off.

  Jimmy scratched the back of his neck. “This guy never leaves a trace. How the hell does he do that? Look around us. There are no fields or parks for the killer to hide in. So how does he get in and out without anyone noticing?” Jimmy rubbed the area between his eyes. “And why the hell would the killer go after a news anchor?”

  “She had something he wanted,” Jared said. “Once he got Lizzy’s file from her, he was finished with her.”

  “And now what?”

  They all knew verbatim the message scrawled in blood on the mirror in the bathroom, but Lizzy repeated it anyhow. “‘Darkness awaits,’” she said.

  “What do you think it means?”

  “He has my file,” Lizzy said. “He’s obsessed with knowing everything about his victim before he strikes.”

  “And how doe
s ‘darkness awaits’ fit in?”

  “I’m afraid of the dark,” she said without elaborating.

  Jimmy understood then. They all did. Spiderman was almost ready.

  Jimmy’s cell rang. He stepped away to answer it.

  Lizzy hadn’t bothered to tell Jimmy that not only was she afraid of the dark, she was paralyzed by it. Spiderman would also learn when he read her file that she hadn’t cried since she escaped, that the mere sight of a spider now made it difficult for her to breathe, and that she couldn’t sleep through the night without reliving the horror of what he’d done to those girls. Lizzy wrapped her arms around her waist.

  “Come on,” Jared said, “let’s get out of here.”

  Saturday, February 20, 2010 5:05 PM

  Lizzy was asked to leave her cell phone, gun, and backpack at the front counter of the California Department of Corrections facility. Next, she was searched for pepper spray, tear gas, alcohol, and explosives. Finally, she and Jared were led to the appointment only, non-contact room, and reminded more than once that it was a crime to assist an inmate. They were also asked if they had any cameras or recording devices on their person, to which they both answered no.

  They passed through a metal detector and then entered the CDCR non-contact visiting room where they would have twenty minutes to talk to Betsy Raeburn.

  The room was quiet. There were four areas set up for inmates to meet with a maximum of two visitors at a time.

  The security officer pointed to the first two chairs within a booth partitioned off by glass. There were visible speakers so they would be able to carry on a conversation.

  By the time Jared took a seat next to Lizzy, Betsy Raeburn was being led to the booth on the other side of the glass.

  The woman was tall and well-muscled. Her brown hair was clipped back. She had wide set hazel eyes, a full round face, and a mouth that appeared to be set in a permanent frown.

  Betsy took a seat. The security guard took a few steps back and set the timer on his wristwatch.

  “Ms. Raeburn,” Jared said. “I’m Jared Shayne and this is Lizzy Gardner.”

  The woman leaned forward until her face was an inch from the glass. “You’re not Lizzy.”

  “I am Lizzy. I remember you.” Lizzy’s throat clogged with unexpected emotion. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Betsy said.

  “You were a friendly face when I needed one most. You helped me into your truck. You helped me get away.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Awkward silence followed before Jared said, “We’re here for a couple of reasons, Betsy. We need to know if you saw anyone or anything unusual on the day you helped Lizzy.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “The feds asked me the same question a hundred times and the answer is still the same.”

  “What about the watch Lizzy had with her the morning you picked her up?”

  Betsy’s face reddened. “I don’t know anything about any old watch,” she said. “You didn’t have a watch, did you, Lizzy honey?”

  Clearly Betsy had gone on the defensive. Lizzy put a hand on the glass. “It’s okay, Betsy. You’re not in trouble. In fact, nothing you say or do will ever change the gratitude I feel for what you did for me that day. But we need to ask you about the watch because the sicko crazy bastard is back in business.”

  Betsy’s eyes widened. “No shit.”

  “No shit,” Lizzy echoed. “We need to know what you did with the watch. We don’t care if you sold it or hocked it or tossed it in the garbage, but we need to know where it might be because the watch could have a serial number...something to give us a clue as to the killer’s identity.”

  Betsy gnawed on her bottom lip. It was hard to tell if she was deciding whether or not she wanted to say what she did with the watch or if she just didn’t remember the watch at all. Betsy leaned close to the glass again as if she were about to tell them a secret.

  Lizzy leaned close too.

  “Did you happen to bring me some cigarettes?”

  Lizzy turned to Jared.

  “I saw a vending machine in the lobby,” Jared said as he stood. “What kind do you smoke?”

  “I’ll take two packs of Marlboros.”

  “Inmates are only allowed one pack through the glass,” the guard told him.

  “Come on, man,” Betsy said over her shoulder, “cut the lady a break.”

  The guard ignored her.

  Jared was gone and back in under five minutes. He placed a pack of Marlboros in the metal tray and Betsy pulled on a device that delivered the cigarettes to the other side. She took her time packing the cigarettes against the palm of her hand before removing the plastic wrap. She placed a cigarette in her mouth and looked over her shoulder at the security guard.

  The guard pulled out his lighter and lit it for her.

  Betsy sucked in a lungful of nicotine and exhaled. “Thanks.”

  Jared nodded.

  Lizzy glanced at the clock. “We need your help, Betsy.”

  Betsy took another drag. “The last thing I need is to give these assholes another reason to keep me locked up.”

  “You did nothing wrong,” Lizzy said emphatically. “I gave you the watch, remember?”

  Betsy’s eyes brightened. “You’re right. I remember. You gave it to me, didn’t you? I have nothing to worry about?”

  “That’s right,” Lizzy said. “You have nothing to worry about. You did nothing wrong, Betsy.”

  Betsy took a long pull from her cigarette. “I’d like to help you,” she said, “I really would, but the thing is, I tried to sell that watch but I couldn’t get more than two hundred dollars for it because of the engraving. Really pissed me off because my brother said it was a Rolex and that it was worth thousands.”

  Jared hardly flinched. He was a pro, Lizzy thought. He had patience and then some. Lizzy, on the other hand, wanted to reach down the woman’s throat and pull the words out for her. But now that Betsy had her smokes, she wasn’t in any hurry. She had nowhere to go. “You wouldn’t happen to remember what the engraving said, would you?” Lizzy asked.

  Betsy took in another lungful of nicotine. Smoke fogged the window between them. “If I tell you, will you send me another pack of these?” She held up the Marlboros.

  Lizzy nodded. “If you tell me, I’ll send you a whole carton as soon as the post office opens.”

  Betsy’s smile revealed a row of crooked yellow teeth. “Like I said before, I was pissed off about the engraving. I mean why would someone go and ruin a perfectly good watch like that? The engraving had the initials SJ and then a small heart symbol followed by the initials SW.”

  Shivers coursed up her spine. Lizzy had no idea if this tidbit of info would lead anywhere, but the notion that they might have something, anything at all, even a few initials, made her dizzy with excitement. “Are you sure it was SJ and SW?”

  “Yeah,” Betsy said with a snicker, “that was it. I remember because I told my brother that the letters stood for Stupid Jackass loves Stupid Whore.” Her laughter bounced off the walls. “If that son of a bitch hadn’t ruined the damn watch, I could have made some real money. Speaking of which,” she added mid-puff, “do either of you have any cash?”

  Lizzy looked at the guard.

  “Up to fifty dollars in one dollar increments,” he said.

  Jared pulled sixteen ones from his wallet and Lizzy found another nine, wrinkled and folded. They placed the dollar bills in the tray.

  Betsy pulled the device and guffawed as if she’d just won the lottery. The guard stepped forward and said it was time for Betsy to get back to her cell.

  Jared stood and Lizzy did the same. “Thanks for everything,” Lizzy said.

  “Yeah, any time. Just don’t forget that carton of cigarettes.”

  “I won’t forget.” Lizzy watched Betsy push herself to her feet and then follow the guard back to her cell. After Betsy disappeared, Li
zzy followed Jared away from the private booth, through the facility, and to the front lobby where they collected their belongings.

  Jared’s phone rang the moment they exited the main door. His brow furrowed as he listened. He nodded and hung up.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve got to get to the high school where you spoke last night.”

  “Why?” Lizzy asked.

  “They think he might have struck again.”

  Her heart dropped to her stomach.

  “They found a letter and blood at the school.”

  “This can’t be happening.” She grabbed hold of Jared’s coat sleeve and peered into his eyes as awareness settled in. “The letter...was the letter to me?”

  “Yes, but this one was signed by Hayley Hansen.”

  Chapter 30

  Saturday, February 20, 2010 6:00 PM

  “It’s Lizzy Gardner’s fault that you’re here. You know that, don’t you?”

  Hayley’s stomach gurgled. She hadn’t eaten in at least twenty-four hours. The blinds were shut tight. Spiderman had dragged in a spindly wooden chair. He’d been sitting in the corner watching her for at least an hour now.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked. “Just sit there and stare at me all day and night?”

  He didn’t answer. His mask was in place, but there was something different about him. For starters, he didn’t look well. He wore his usual starched collared shirt and beige colored pants, but his clothes were wrinkled and he was slouching. His game was definitely off. When he looked to his right, she saw bits of gauze sticking out from under his collar. She’d almost forgotten that she’d stabbed him last night. Had he gone to the hospital? The knife had gone deep. And the house had been quiet for a few hours before he entered the room.

  The mask he wore covered the middle section of his face: eyes, nose, upper half of cheeks. His forehead, jaw, and chin looked pale, a sign that he’d lost some blood.

  He was a creepy man. Not once had Brian ever come into her room and just sat there and stared at her. Brian just got right down to business.