by Jon Mills
“I’ll let myself out. See you tomorrow bright and early.”
“You bet,” he replied.
Chapter 37
That night Ben’s sleep was plagued again with nightmares of his wife and Adam. Bruns had torn him apart. Even now he still had his invisible hooks in him. Waking up, his body was soaked in sweat as he returned to his bed upstairs. He had to pass by Chloe’s bedroom on the way. He wept at the thought of not being there for her. It was every father’s worst nightmare.
It was only made worse by the phone call in the middle of the night.
When the phone rang, he glanced at it. He didn’t recognize the numbers; it came up 000-000-0000. He was tempted to answer it. But if it was Bruns he really didn’t need the head games. Jinx slept beside him on the bed. He watched the way she would dip her snout into Chloe’s room, and whimper expecting to find her. She hadn’t been the same since she was gone. Dogs had a sense of when something was not right.
And since she was gone, nothing had been right.
He couldn’t imagine life without her now. While he remained strong for her through the loss of her mother and brother, what she didn’t realize was that she was the only reason he got up each day and soldiered on. She brought life and light to his life, something that no amount of words could convey.
The rain continued battering the island through the night though weakening slightly as the sun began to rise. He’d managed to get four hours. Drinking to go to sleep worked but it also kept him awake. The alarm clock was flashing four in the morning when he went downstairs. He took his Glock 22 with him and Jinx slinked behind in his shadow.
He paused briefly at Chloe’s door and glanced inside. His stomach sank again and his resolve to find her strengthened. He wouldn’t shy away or break under the weight of what he was feeling. She needed him.
Downstairs he walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He splashed some cold water on his face to clear away the fog of sleep. He glanced at his calendar on the wall; he had forgotten his appointment with Emily Rose. He’d been making progress going twice a week to the therapy sessions but it hadn’t stopped the dreams. She said they would continue for some time, then eventually fade. Subconsciously he wondered if he was clinging to them. Perhaps, he was scared of losing the memory of what Elizabeth looked like. Of course he had photos but it wasn’t the same. It was as if he needed to see her dead to punish himself. It was as if the guilt of not finding her in time found its way to the surface when he slept because in the day he buried it below a blanket of self-loathing and drinking.
Ben filled a cup with boiling water and dropped a regular bag of Orange Pekoe into it. He’d never been one for the flavored teas. Elizabeth loved them. He called them hippie teas.
Shuffling over to the table he breathed in deeply and started flipping through the reports. He was sure that he was overlooking something, like a minor detail. To anyone else it would be inconsequential but it was the insignificant details that could crack a case.
University students were always asking him what it took to catch them. They only saw the ones he’d caught, never those that had slipped through his fingers or the ones that had fallen through the cracks of a faulty justice system.
The truth was you had to become obsessed and immerse yourself. You had to be willing to let it eat away at you in the middle of the night. You needed to think like them, go to the places in your mind that repulsed others. Only then, and with a good amount of luck could you hope to catch those who operated from a place of darkness.
Turning on his computer he brought up the yearbook again of the class of 2012. He scanned the faces. There were five areas labeled: Photo not available. No names were below them.
He looked at Douglas Adams.
What had made him do it? Had he taken her? Ben thought back to the many criminals he’d interviewed in prison and the research he’d done in understanding the mind of a murderer.
There were always patterns in their lives. Something they had learned in their development that motivated their murders. No one in their thirties suddenly decided to one day become evil and commit an act of murder. The behavior had been developed long before that. It remained hidden below the surface, deep inside their childhood.
They weren’t all from broken homes. Many had good families, stable and with two parents. Some had IQs that were high, above the normal range. But whether their home life looked stable on the surface, there was always something dysfunctional occurring below. A mental illness, emotional or sexual abuse was common. Those who killed usually had a cold relationship with their mothers. Often it was found that they were deprived of love.
Every single one of those that Ben had interviewed had told him that they had experienced mental or physical abuse and yet this wasn’t what they felt had damaged them. It was the sense of growing up feeling as though they weren’t wanted. Neglected and left to their own devices they soon turned their attention to hurting animals. In many ways they were a product of a society that hadn’t taught them to interact with compassion.
The lack of socialization and love formed their view of the world; a detached, cold, and unloving environment. Was it any wonder that they acted as they did?
Ben closed his computer and quieted his mind before the day began. It was five in the morning. He sipped his tea. Usually he treasured these moments but now all he could think about was Chloe.
Chapter 38
Less than two hours later, Ben and Dakota pulled up outside Eden Falls High School. It was a typical high school in desperate need of updating. It resembled a prison more than a school with its sun-bleached walls and metal-framed lower windows. Dakota told him they’d experienced enough vandalism that it warranted the update.
He tossed his coffee into the green garbage can outside, and headed in. The school had just broken for summer vacation. By now, Chloe would be off enjoying a full twelve weeks of downtime. Ben usually took her somewhere warm, anywhere that wasn’t Florida. But she was older now, heading into her last year of high school. In previous years they had gone to Bermuda, and she’d taken a school buddy with her.
They entered the principal’s office and were greeted by Linda Burton. She was a wiry woman in her late fifties. Slightly on the larger size, causing her to walk on the edges of her feet.
“Morning,” she said, shaking Ben’s hand then Dakota’s. “Come into my office.”
Ben held a chair out for Dakota who found it amusing. It was a small room. Cabinets took up most of the space, a coffee maker was on a side table, and there was a large mahogany desk with a leather chair behind it. The blinds were closed, sealing out the bad weather they were still having.
“So how can I be of help?” Burton asked.
“You were the principal back in 2012?”
Her eyes opened wide. “That’s right. Seems like only yesterday.”
“How long have you been working here?” Dakota asked.
She leaned back in her chair and exhaled. “It’s got to be nearly twenty-five years.”
She seemed almost unsure. Though age had a way of fading memory.
“Do you recall Douglas Adams as a student?” Ben asked.
“Of course. How could I forget? Why, is he in trouble?”
“What can you tell us about him?”
She blew out her cheeks, trying to recall. “He was a challenging kid. So, it’s good to see he became a ranger here in the park. I had my doubts about him I must say.”
“Why?”
“Ah, it wasn’t so much him as it was his parents. His mother. He tended to skip school a lot and when he did show up he showed signs of abuse. Never clothed too well. Almost neglected. He was given the bare essentials. We had her up here. What was her name?” She brought a finger to her lips. “Mary. That’s right. Mary Adams. Strange woman. Very harsh sounding. She smoked a lot and from what I know she passed away of cancer about three years ago.”
“Three?”
“Yeah, I could be wrong, though I’m
pretty sure that’s what it was.”
“And oh, what was he like when he was here? His studies and such?”
“A very bright lad, actually. Surprising, really. I remembered telling his mother that and finding her reaction troubling.”
“In what way?”
She leaned forward. “Well, most mothers beam with delight if you say anything nice about their kid but not her. Oh no, she was very um… what’s the word?”
“Cold?”
“Yeah. No sense of pride in him. I mean, how can anyone hope to stay on track if they are surrounded by apathy? Sad really. But it happens.”
“What did his mother do?” Ben asked.
“Seamstress I believe.”
“And the father?”
“He wasn’t around. Walked out on them, she said.”
Dakota nodded.
“What is this about?”
“We’re just following up on a few enquiries.”
“About the murders? Are you any closer to finding them?”
Ben twisted around and pulled out his tablet from a brown leather bag. He opened it and placed it on the table. “These girls. Did they ever complain about Douglas?”
“Not that I recall.”
“And Douglas, did he ever interfere with any of the girls at the school?”
“He kept to himself. That’s all I can tell you. I’m sure I could bring up his files and locate his test results but I don’t think it’s going to show you much.”
“If you could do that, that would be appreciated,” Dakota said.
“Oh by the way. Where did his mother live?”
She gave them the address. It wasn’t the same as the one they had raided. While Dakota was getting a printout of his files, Ben checked his voicemail. There was one from Nate telling him that they hadn’t found anything else at his home but they had managed to get a partial print off the phone. So far there hadn’t been any sign of Douglas. It was just another kick in the gut.
Ben stood at the window looking out over the school playground. A tattered basketball net blew around in the wind and leaves rolled across the concrete like tumbleweeds. He was reminded of his years in high school and what his own family life was like. His father worked in security, his mother was a nurse. His fascination with criminals began long before he ever left school. He remembered it well. When he was ten, every morning following a night shift, his father would toss the newspaper on the table while he had breakfast. Ben would double-check the answers his father had scribbled in the crossword. On the opposite page, he remembered an article about a series of killings that occurred over a span of two years. Every month there was a new one. The perpetrator would break in, tie up his victims, rape them, and then decapitate them. Then using their blood, he had written the words, “Please catch me. I can’t stop.”
Now any rational person might think that he would simply turn himself in, but this wasn’t a rational individual. It was hard to imagine that someone could do these grisly murders and then ask to be caught. Eventually he was cornered after one of the victims managed to escape while he slept beside her. He shot himself before the police got to him.
Those were the kind of people he’d dreamed of catching. Ben wanted them to spend their lives behind bars and eventually face the death penalty. He never knew until later the toll it would take on him or others. Some quit the FBI because of nightmares, others experienced peculiar medical conditions that disappeared once a case was over. Most just suffered from anxiety attacks. Catching criminals wasn’t glamorous, it was soul destroying.
“You ready to go?” Dakota said, holding a folder with Douglas’s information.
Ben nodded and thanked the principal.
Just before leaving he turned back. “Oh by the way, in the Class of 2012, there were five spaces where there weren’t any photos or names.”
“Yeah, we tend to get some students who don’t make it into the yearbook.”
“Why?”
She seemed taken aback by the question. “Some chose inappropriate dress, others were absent, some didn’t submit a photo, and others didn’t wish to be included.”
“Could you email me the names of those five?”
“Sure I can, though it will take a while to dig them out.” She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and Ben jotted down his email.
Chapter 39
The handcuff he’d placed around her ankle hurt but it was better than being tied to a bed. The other guy didn’t want her getting away easily but this one seemed different.
Where was he? And why had he unlocked the door back at the last location? If he’d wanted her to escape why bring her here? None of it made sense.
She looked down at her restraint.
It wasn’t impossible to get out of a pair of handcuffs; her father had shown her enough times. Heck, if she had a bobby pin or paperclip on her she would have been out of them by now. The trick was to wedge it into the keyhole, pivot and the ratchet mechanism that pushed up against the teeth would come loose. It was designed that way in the event that a key lock jammed or broke off inside. Police used a flexible handcuff shim just like a hairpin. It did the same thing.
She sat on the cold ground. It was quiet in the house, all she could hear was the sound of rain pounding outside. He hadn’t returned in hours. She’d spent the entire night there alone, cold, uncomfortable, hungry, and thirsty. She’d relieved herself as far away from the post as she could stretch. But it was beginning to smell and stink up the place.
Every muscle in her body ached.
You’re going to get out of here, she reminded herself. You won’t die like this.
Had the other girls told themselves the same thing? She wanted her father, where was he?
Over the past two years she’d been hard on him. She knew he blamed himself for the death of her mother and brother. But it was out of his control. Still, she didn’t know where to place the blame. She’d always seen him as her protector. He was an FBI agent for god’s sake. That meant something to her. It meant they would be safe. But that wasn’t true. He couldn’t watch her every hour of the day.
She’d been resistant to her father wanting to move, then to his constant need for her to learn how to protect herself. Like that had helped. How do you protect yourself from a masked man who comes into your bedroom in the middle of the night? Who holds a knife to your throat and threatens to kill your grandmother if you don’t go with him?
With her hands free, and one leg not restrained, it frustrated her knowing the tools on the table could get her out of the cuffs. The floorboard creaked above her. Her eyes flicked up. Every time she heard a sound, fear crept over her. The thought of him or the other one returning before she got out scared her like nothing else. Though, if it hadn’t been for the ranger she would have been dead. But he was no better. She shook her head at the thought of it all. A park ranger responsible for the disappearances!
The basement was small but larger than the room she’d been held inside. It would be easier to escape here — if she could just get out. Right now though, it may as well have been solitary confinement.
The tools lay on the table teasing her. Chloe cast a glance at her ankle then around the room. She had to try again. Moving herself back across the floor, her feet felt numb from the cold. She reached the chair with outstretched fingers and yanked it back.
Closing her eyes, saying a silent prayer, she flung the chair again.
When it didn’t work, she tried again.
Quit.
Chloe heard the word inside her head. But she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. Even if it killed her, she was going to fight to get out of here.
Tired. Stiff and feeling so much pain in her ankle, she stared bleakly at the chair. It was impossible to get out. But what other choice was there?
Helpless but not quitting, Chloe crawled back over to the chair, feeling the teeth of the handcuff bite her skin once again.
Chapter 40
They were minutes
from arriving at Douglas’s mother’s old residence when Ben’s cell phone vibrated and skipped around in the middle console. He swerved to the hard shoulder and took a look to see who was calling. It was Nate. He jabbed answer.
“Ben, we have him.”
“What?”
“Douglas Adams, he just walked into the station ten minutes ago.”
He frowned. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m looking at him right now.”
“Was anyone with him?”
“No.”
“Who’s with him now?”
“Danvers.”
“I’ll be there in five.”
Ben hung up and swerved away from the side of the road at breakneck speed. He slammed his foot to the metal as he gunned it around the loop road heading for Eden Falls Police Station. Rain was falling heavily by now. The sky had opened up, pounding the roof of the car and making the roads slippery and dangerous. As they exploded past a clearing that overlooked the ocean, a thick mist had rolled in reducing visibility. Even the white lighthouse in the distance couldn’t be seen.
Once they arrived at the station, Ben approached Nate. He was standing behind a two-way mirror scrutinizing Douglas and taking in every word.
“Oh hey,” he motioned to the interview room.
“What’s he said?” Ben asked.
“Not much really. He said he was out of town visiting a guy by the name of Wes Rayland, a friend of his who works as a ranger over in Bangor.”
“What park?”
“Baxter State Park. Danvers has already made the call and confirmed the alibi.”
Ben placed a hand on his hip and ran the other over his head.
“I want in.”
Nate nodded and led the way. When the door opened Chief Danvers was coming out.
“Not much there. But we have enough to hold him overnight,” Danvers said.