by Robert Boren
“Yeah, okay. The incident in Anza with Jason Beckler, Sadie Evans, and Earl Wilson, and the incident shortly after that involving John Jenson and others,” Agent Williams said. “He thought you should have been prosecuted for those. I don’t completely disagree, but there were investigations, and you got cleared.”
“You didn’t know he was attempting to take us out?” Malcolm asked.
“I still don’t know that,” he replied, “although I admit it looks bad. How about you, Ted? Where were you before you arrived at Malcolm’s RV Park?”
“I flew into Amarillo, Texas, and rented a car there. I drove up to Sharon Springs. You guys heard about the incident there, right?”
Agent Williams got a blank look on his face.
“C’mon, Williams,” Agent Simone said. “That gun battle there. They raided the house of a former associate of our targets. Sherry something.”
“You guys were involved with that?” Agent Williams asked.
“Yeah, along with local police and several people from our RV Park.” Ted said.
“You know what the term vigilante means?” Agent Williams asked, a sarcastic look on his face.
“Now wait just a minute,” Ted said, face flushing. “The Serial Killer Task Force was involved in that operation, and I’m one of the leads. I’m also an LAPD Detective. This wasn’t a vigilante operation. Not at all. We’ve been watching this person ever since we discovered her.”
“How did you discover her?” Agent Williams asked.
“She took over Howard’s truck stop in his absence, and I interviewed her about it,” Malcolm said. “She was helping us briefly, until we found out more about her activities related to the Nighthawk Road Killer.”
Ted shot a glance at Malcolm. Shut up about that.
“All right,” Agent Williams said. “You said you found the location of the house on your own. How did you do that?”
“We watched the trail of Nighthawk Road markers going east,” Malcolm said, “and I already knew from prior research that Ohio was a base. That got me most of the way there.”
“Nighthawk Road markers?” Agent Williams asked.
“Yeah,” Malcolm said. “It was easy to follow. That wasn’t the tipping point, though.”
“What was the tipping point?”
“The Nighthawk Road killer wasn’t just one person. It was a clan. Scott’s father Chet was the founder. Howard was an early convert. We researched both of them. We found out some interesting things about Chet.”
“What kind of things?” Agent Williams asked.
“Chet was questioned about the Black Dahlia and Gravel Pit murders in California. We got a look at the transcripts and other info surrounding that activity.”
“How?”
“C’mon, Agent Williams. All of that stuff is available on the internet. You think everything is still on microfiche in some cabinet somewhere? Anyway, what caught our eye was who he was questioned with. Rupert Smith.”
“You’re going to tell me this is the same Smith family that owned the house?” Agent Williams asked.
“Yep,” Malcolm said. “But there’s more. Rupert Smith is the best suspect we have for the Cincinnati Torso Murders.”
Agent Simone’s face lit up. “He’s right, Agent Williams. Now I know why he brought up Black Dahlia.”
“Black Dahlia? Oh, please,” Agent Williams said. “You guys ain’t writing a book, I hope.”
“No, really, Agent Williams,” Agent Simone said. “There are some researchers who think that the Torso Murderer was responsible for a couple of murders in Southern California. One of them was Black Dahlia.”
“And the other was the Gravel Pit murder,” Ted said.
“Okay, this is all very interesting,” Agent Williams said. “Really. But how did it help you find the house?”
“I looked for houses owned by a Smith family for many years that sold during the target timeframe.”
“What’s the target timeframe?”
“The time when I saw Nighthawk Road murders beginning in Ohio,” Malcolm said. “Scott is a history buff. Serial killer history. Remember the missing film cans?”
“So you found Rupert Smith’s house, and knew that Scott had bought it.”
“Yeah, but it was difficult,” Malcolm said. “The Torso Murderer did most of his killing in the Cincinnati area. I spent quite a while trying to find his place there. No dice, until we realized that Columbus was really the center of the activity. The final nail in the coffin was that incident on the jogging path, and the video of Howard from the failed abduction the day before. It took me about ten minutes to find the house when I switched over to Columbus. The rest, as they say, is history.”
“I don’t know, guys,” Agent Williams said. “This sounds a little dicey.”
“You ever check with Agent Cooper?” Ted asked.
“No,” he said. He pulled his phone out. “Harriet, get me Agent Cooper please.” He set his phone on the table. It rang after a few minutes, and he answered it.
“Agent Cooper.”
“Good morning, Agent Cooper. This is Agent Williams in the Columbus substation.”
“Hello Agent Williams. What can I do for you?”
“Did Ted Crowley send you the address of a house in Columbus?”
“Yes,” Agent Cooper said, voice wavering. “I passed it along to the SAC working the case. He didn’t pass it along?”
“No, he didn’t,” Agent Williams said, an exasperated look on his face. “Thanks, Agent Cooper. That was helpful. If you get any blowback on this, I’ll vouch for you.”
“Thank you, Agent Williams. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
“There might be,” he said. “Thanks.”
Agent Williams put his phone back on the table. “Okay, you got the gist. He verified your story, but he sounded very cautious. I’ll talk to him some more.”
“Agent Keith torpedoed his career after the Anza incident,” Ted said. “I was hesitant to call him. If you guys wouldn’t have cut off my access, we could have met at the site.”
“We would have told you to stay away,” Agent Williams said. He sighed. “All right, you guys have me convinced that you’re on the up and up.”
“Why don’t we work together?” Malcolm asked.
“On what?” Agent Williams asked.
“Catching Scott,” he replied. “And checking out those films, too.”
“Oh, yeah, the films,” Agent Williams said. “How are those going to help us find Scott?”
“They won’t, but we’re interested in seeing them,” Malcolm said, a twinkle in his eyes. “Aren’t you?”
“Sorry, not really into the serial killer history thing,” Agent Williams said. “There may be other things in that locker that will help us, though, if it really exists. I’m okay with you guys going along, under the umbrella of the Serial Killer Task Force.”
“Excellent,” Malcolm said. “Perhaps this is, as they say, the start of a beautiful friendship.”
“I doubt it,” Agent Williams said, trying to look stern, but a smile slowly spread over his face.
***
Scott drove into the staging lane at Uncle Jasper’s RV Park. “Wait here,” he said. “And keep your eyes open. Kerry, you keep watch from the bunk, okay?”
“Okay, Scotty,” he said. “Think there’s a pool here?”
“Probably,” Scott said as he left the coach. He walked quickly into the office.
“Hello” he said.
“Be right out,” said a woman from the back room. Scott looked around nervously. The woman walked out, putting a hair band on.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m Sue. Can I help you?”
“Yeah, my wife called in a reservation. Two nights, for a small Class C towing a car.”
“Last name?” she asked, looking at her computer screen.
“Jones,” he said.
“Ah, here it is,” she said. She wrote up a ticket for him, tearing off t
he bottom, and handing the tag to him with a map.
“Is there a swimming pool?” Scott asked.
“Of course,” she said. “And a spa, too. You’ll love it. The pool isn’t far from your space.”
“Thanks,” Scott said, turning to leave.
“Enjoy your stay,” she said.
Scott hurried back to the rig, looking in every direction.
“Well, everything okay?” Cindy asked.
“No problem,” Scott said.
“She didn’t look suspicious?”
“Not a bit,” he said. “Cute lady, for an older gal.”
“Possible playmate on the way out?” Cindy asked.
“Nah, I like ‘em young,” he said. “Don’t worry, you’ll earn your wings soon enough, but I think we ought to lay low for a day or two. Keep off the road.”
“Hey, Scotty, is there a pool?” Kerry asked from the bunk.
“Sure is, Kerry,” Scott said. “After we get set up, you can swim. Don’t follow anybody though, okay?”
“I won’t,” he said. “I didn’t follow the guys at the other place. They snuck up behind me and put a gunny sack over my head.”
“Jerks,” Cindy said. “They got what they deserved.”
“What’d you do to them?” Kerry asked.
“Never mind, Kerry,” Scott said. “They can’t hurt you anymore. Just keep to yourself. Don’t talk to strangers, okay? Especially adult strangers.”
“Okay.”
Scott drove onto their spot, then got out and did the hook-ups. He stuck his head by the side windows. “Electricity is on now, if you want to watch TV.”
“Great,” Cindy said. She picked up the remote and turned the TV on. Scott walked in the door.
“Can I go swimming now?” Kerry asked.
“You got trunks?” Scott asked.
“I got some cut-offs,” he said. “That okay?”
“I don’t see why not. Take a towel from the bathroom,” he said. “Remember what I said. Don’t talk to anybody there. If somebody messes with you, come back here right away, okay?”
“Okay, Scotty,” he said, rushing into the bathroom with his shorts to change. Scott plopped down on the couch next to Cindy and put his hand on her thigh. She snuggled up to him and they watched TV. Kerry scampered out of the bathroom and down the steps of the coach.
“We gonna keep up the sleeping in the daytime routine?” Cindy asked.
“Yeah, for a few days at least,” he said. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” Cindy asked, looking at his face, then up at the TV.
There was video of the house in Columbus, with FBI agents swarming around it.
“They found my house,” he said. “Glad I took the valuable stuff out of there.”
“What valuable stuff?” Cindy asked.
“Films from the old days,” he said, “and a few other items of historical value. I put them in my storage locker.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Quiet, I want to hear this,” Scott said, turning up the sound.
“This quiet street near the university in Columbus, Ohio, was awakened early this morning by an FBI raid. The house appears to be the base of operations for several abductions and murders in recent months, culminating with the failed abduction and subsequent murder of Michelle Hamilton. The house held the remains of an FBI agent, a parolee named Sy Means, and this man, who was in the viral video of the failed abduction.”
“There’s my old friend Howard,” Scott said, feeling himself choke up as Howard’s face flashed on the screen.
“Sorry,” Cindy whispered.
Scott turned off the TV. “Let’s sleep for a while.”
“Okay,” she said. “Maybe a little play time?”
“After we sleep,” Scott said. “I’m really tired.”
“All right,” she said. “You okay?”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t want to lose that house. Everything seems to be going wrong now.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Sleep on it,” he said. “I’m not good when I’m this tired.”
They got off the couch and headed for bed. Scott stopped half way there and turned to Cindy. “You know how badly the kid that runs the storage lot got beat up?”
“Drew?” Cindy asked. “My ex could be a real animal. He might have beat him up pretty good. Drew was kind of a wannabe with the tough folks in town. They made fun of him and pushed him around a lot.”
“If he’s able to talk to the FBI, they’ll find my locker,” he said. “It’s not under my name, but he’ll remember which one it is.”
“How bad would that be?” she asked as they climbed behind the curtain into bed.
“It won’t get us caught,” Scott said, “but they’ll get my money and my treasure.”
“Treasure?”
“Yeah, film of the Black Dahlia murder and others,” Scott said.
Cindy started at him, mouth open. “You mean her killing, or just the aftermath? There’s been a lot on TV shows about that murder.”
“The interview, the beating, the killing. Everything but placement of the body.”
“Have you seen it?” Cindy asked, breath getting short.
“Yeah,” Scott said.
“Tell me about it,” she said.
“When we wake up,” Scott said.
Chapter 8 – Late Dinner
Frank and Jane were following Jerry and Jasmine, nearing Grand Junction. Jane’s phone rang. She answered it.
“Hi, Jane,” Jasmine said. “I made us reservations in Grand Junction. Looks like a nice park.”
“Great,” Jane said. “I’m tired, and I know Frank is. How much further?”
“We should hit the off-ramp in about ten minutes,” she said.
“Okay, talk to you soon,” Jane said.
“We’ve got a place to stop?” Frank asked.
“Yeah,” Jane said. “Ten minutes away.”
“Good,” Frank said. “I’m beat.”
“I know, honey,” Jane said. “You should have let me drive.”
“Tomorrow,” Frank said. “I was too keyed up after the UN roadblock.”
“You’re gonna call the General when we get settled, right?”
“Yeah, but I’ll probably get half way through a martini before I do,” Frank said.
“Not a bad idea,” Jane said, smiling. Lucy came over and whined, looking up at Jane. “C’mon, girl.”
“She needs to get out,” Frank said.
“I know. We’re almost there. I’ll walk her around while you’re in the office.”
“Okay,” Frank said. “Been on the apps lately?”
“Yeah, a little while ago. Nothing outside of the detention camps now.”
“Good,” Frank said. “I asked Kurt to check on that recording app every so often, to see if there’s activity at the caverns.”
They rode silently until they got to the off-ramp, following Jerry and Jasmine onto the two lane blacktop.
“So pretty here,” Jane said. “Reminds me more of Utah than Colorado.”
“Well, we’re right by the border,” Frank said. “Makes me nervous going back into Utah again.”
“Me too,” Jane said. “There’s the park.”
Jerry and Jasmine parked in the staging lane. Frank drove up behind them. Jane got out with Lucy, and Frank walked over to the office and met Jerry and Jasmine.
“Nice choice,” Frank said, looking around.
“Looks like it,” Jasmine said.
“Call the General yet?” Jerry asked.
“No, I thought I’d wait until we got here,” Frank said. “I drove the whole way. Was too nervous to let Jane drive.”
“Same here,” Jerry said.
They walked into the office. There was an old man in western garb behind the counter. He was tall and a little overweight, with a shaved head under his cowboy hat.
“I’ll bet you’re Jasmine,” he said, smiling.
“Yes,” Jasmine sai
d.
“Good,” the man said. “I’m Clint. Good to have you here.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said. Jerry and Frank nodded.
“Who’s paying?” he asked.
Jerry and Frank both slid him credit cards.
“Thanks,” Clint said. He ran them, filled out the tags, and handed them over with maps. “Here you go. You’re just past the pool off of the main road. Enjoy!”
“Thanks, Clint,” Jasmine said. The three of them went back to their rigs. Jane walked up to Frank.
“All set?” she asked.
“Yep, let’s go.”
They followed Jerry and Jasmine to their spaces and parked. Both couples got set up quickly.
“Martinis?” Jane asked.
“Hell, yeah,” Jerry said.
“Sounds perfect,” Frank said.
“I’ll just grab myself a soda,” Jasmine smirked. “Being pregnant kinda sucks.”
They ended up under Jerry’s awning, sipping their drinks.
“Peaceful place,” Jerry said. “Wonder how the pool is?”
“Probably nice, but I don’t think I’ll bother. Time to get the general on the line. I’ll put it on speaker, so gather around.”
Frank hit the General’s contact and put his phone on the table next to him.
“Hello, Frank.”
“Hi, General,” Frank said. “I got you on speaker. Jane, Jerry, and Jasmine are here with me. We’re in Grand Junction, Colorado.”
“Wow, making pretty good time,” he said.
“Not bad,” Frank said. “We ran into something unexpected and wanted to talk to you about it.”
“Okay,” the General said. “What’s that?”
“We ran into a roadblock.”
“Where?” asked the General.
“I-70, about a third of the way into Colorado,” Frank said.
“What was the roadblock for?”
“Small pox vaccine,” Frank said. “I can understand that; glad they’re doing it.”
“Something’s bothering you,” the General said.
“Yeah,” Frank said. “It was manned by UN Peacekeepers.”
“What!” General Hogan asked, sounding alarmed. “I wasn’t informed of that.”
“I figured,” Frank said. “It gets worse. They were asking if they could search vehicles, and they were waving their guns around.”