by KJ Kalis
Once it was over, he glanced at her, “Show me the second section, please. Then we’ll go back to the first.”
Kat nodded. She expected TJ would want to watch it over and over again. That would be just like him. Maybe, just maybe, he would see something she hadn’t. At least that’s what she hoped.
For the next few minutes, Kat watched TJ as he ran the video forward and back, stopping to study a frame here and there. He went back through the first abduction five or six times and then watched the second one. At one point, he cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowed. Kat didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to interrupt his thought process. If he found something, he would tell her.
After another ten minutes, TJ got up from the table. He walked over to the refrigerator and opened it up, pulling out a bottle of iced tea and guzzling about half of it without stopping. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he recapped the bottle, pointing at the screen. “That guy,” he said, motioning to the still image of who Kat hoped was Joseph Schreiber on the screen. “That guy is going to be hard to catch.”
“Why do you say that?” Kat was confused. What had TJ seen that she had missed?
“I’ve only seen one other guy like that in my career,” TJ said, shaking his head a little. “This guy is meticulous. He’s well-planned, detail-oriented to a fault. He’s prepared contingency upon contingency to meet his goal, whatever that is.”
“How did you come to that?”
TJ sat down in front of the computer again, rolling the video back to Layne’s abduction. “See how he’s dressed? He’s dressed like anyone else in that building. Pressed pants, nice shirt. He blends in. There is nothing by the looks of him that would signal she was in danger. He just looks like an average guy. Watch his facial expressions. A calm demeanor gets her talking. She’s got no idea she’s being hunted. It’s hard to defend yourself when you don’t know someone’s coming after you.”
Kat knew the element of surprise was one of the hallmarks of Navy SEAL training. They were stealthy and quick, often upon their target before the person or persons ever knew what happened. It was one of the reasons they had the high level of success that they did. “What else do you see?”
TJ sighed, “Well, he’s right-handed. Probably does need the glasses, I’m guessing that by the way he holds his head.” TJ moved to the video of Evan. “See how he engages with Evan differently than with Layne?” TJ pointed to the screen, to the frames where the van was blocking Evan’s car. “This guy has been watching these two. I don’t know for how long or when, but he knows their personalities. He’s a psychological manipulator. See how he tries to help Layne? He didn’t do that with Evan. See how he blocked his car in? He knew that would force a confrontation with Evan, that he could draw him near the back of the van.”
Kat looked carefully at the video while TJ spoke. He made good points. Everything he said looked to be true. It was the beginning of a profile if nothing else. “Any idea how he got Evan in the van?”
TJ backed up the video to the spot where Joseph was behind the van doors and Evan was striding past the rear tire well and around the back. Kat watched again as the video camera captured two heads behind the van and then one sinking. TJ rolled it back and forth a few times. “Remember how I said this guy is right-handed?” He frowned a little and then leaned closer to the video running three or four frames forward and then the same frames back a few times. “My guess? I’ll bet he had a stun gun in the back of that van.” He pointed to the screen and stopped the video. “See how he positions himself on the left side of the van? When Evan confronts him,” TJ motioned with his arm in an arc, “Evan has to go around him and get close to the back of the van. I’ll bet he had a Taser in his right hand and just lifted it up and got him. From there, all he would need to do is boost the body up into the van. It would be an easy takedown.”
“Wouldn’t he have seen Layne’s body?”
“Not if she was covered. It happened too fast.”
The clinical method that TJ tore apart the abductions was a little exciting and a little leery at the same time, Kat thought. He knew an awful lot about hand-to-hand combat, that was clear. “Yeah, that makes sense. The question is where would he go from there?”
“Did you do a property search on this guy?”
“I was just about to.”
“My guess? This guy is a control freak. He's so meticulous that I’ll bet he’s got them stashed either at his home or someplace close by. It would have to be an environment that he completely controls. Someplace out of the way. But it would have to be someplace where he could watch them. He’s not the type to grab someone and then let them sit and stew for a long time. He’s not gonna leave them alone. He’s obsessed.”
Kat’s stomach turned. That Joseph Schreiber would spend his days and nights staring at his victims was horrifying. Her stomach clenched into a ball as a wave of nausea covered her. She imagined his victims watching him, terrified, not sure what was going to happen to them.
TJ’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “I don’t think this guy’s gonna stop until someone stops him. It’s just a feeling, but I’ve learned to trust my gut, if you know what I mean…” TJ got up from the table and stretched. He acted like they had been having a conversation about brunch menus or a place to take Jack to go golfing, not the behavior of the serial killer. “I’m going to a take a walk up the street. Just check things out. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m going to crash on the couch tonight if that’s okay.”
Kat nodded. If TJ was having trouble sleeping, then wherever he felt comfortable was the best place for him. The last thing she needed was a sleepless, wired former Navy SEAL escorting her son around. A little sleep would keep everything in control. Or at least she hoped it would...
35
Joseph checked his watch. An hour had gone by since he had administered the first dose of Allopurinol. He hadn’t seen any change in his subjects. Layne was still sniveling in the corner of her cage. Evan had taken up a similar position in the corner but was quiet. Joseph stood up and stretched, setting the pile of student papers off to the side after finishing the fifth one in the stack. Grading took hours. The paper he had just completed was riddled with typos and grammatical mistakes. No matter how good the thesis of the paper was, if the student couldn’t present it in a palatable way, he would never succeed in life. That was a fact.
He stood up and walked around the outside of the cages, trying to see if there was any reaction from his subjects they had not reported. Frustration filled his chest. They would need another dose. It was normal to have setbacks in experiments, he told himself. But only with perseverance would he get the information he needed to become a leading researcher. He went over to the workbench and pulled out a vial. He could easily test to see if another drug in combination with the Allopurinol would cause the desired effect. Phenobarbital would do the trick. He loaded two more syringes with doses of the Allopurinol and the second drug. He knew that Phenobarbital was used to control convulsions and anxiety. If nothing else, it would keep his subjects calm. Joseph stopped for a second, looking at the ceiling, considering this new cocktail. He jotted a few notes in his notebook, keeping accurate records of the medication given for future reference, noting the time and dosage levels.
He turned, sucking in a breath. The question was, would his subjects cooperate this time? He walked over to Layne, quickly popping the cap off the syringe and injecting her arm. She hadn’t even tried to move away from him. He tossed the first syringe in the wastebasket and walked towards Evan. Evan didn’t move. Joseph walked behind the cage and was able to catch the shackle attached to Evan’s wrist through the wire before Evan could twist around. He jammed the syringe into his arm and pushed, sending the medication into the muscle. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he chided, walking away and tossing the second syringe in the wastebasket.
Joseph sat down and started grading another paper. By the time he had gotten to page seven, he heard mo
aning from Evan. “Oh my God,” he said, “What have you done to me? I feel like I’m on fire!” Joseph looked up from the paper, having just read the ridiculous assertion that the Germans were manipulated into World War II. That wasn’t true. He would have known that. His parents were both from Germany. They would have told him if it was so.
He looked at Evan, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He didn’t move for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth between his subjects. Was it happening? Evan had slumped down in the corner of his cage. He was writhing and moaning. Red blotches had broken out on his face. Joseph glanced at Layne. She had stood up, tears running down her face, her eyes wide. She kept looking down at her arms. They had erupted in what looked like boils. As soon as he saw that, Joseph jumped up from the chair, taking the papers and limping as quickly as he could over to the workbench to leave them in a neat stack. He walked back to their cages, circling them, slowly, looking for more signs that their bodies were reacting to the drugs. On the back of Evan’s neck were boils that looked the same as Layne’s. “I’m so hot,” he moaned, his eyes closed. Joseph noticed he wasn’t sitting still against the cage. He kept moving as if he was trying to get comfortable. Joseph feared that would be a futile effort.
The drugs he had injected them with caused Stephen-Johnson’s Syndrome, the precursor of Toxic Epidermal Necrolysis Syndrome (TENS). In effect, the drugs Joseph had used on them were causing them to burn, the same way as if they were in a fire or if scalding water had been tossed on them. But it was different. They were burning from the inside out. Fascinating, he thought. Joseph had always wondered what the burns would look like from SJS, if they would look different from those he’d seen in pictures from medical books of people who’d gotten caught in a fire and spent months in a burn unit to recover.
Joseph walked over to Layne’s cage, studying her. She hadn’t moved. She was standing stock still, her eyes now closed. Joseph wondered if she had retreated to some quiet place inside of herself where there was no burning. Joseph wished he could go to that spot with her, to a place of quiet. Satisfied with his work, he sat back down in his chair and pulled out his notebook. Grading would have to wait. Observing his subjects was his primary job now.
He moved his chair closer to Layne’s cage. It was fascinating to him what was happening with her, her retreat into herself, her complete lack of movement. Joseph did a quick sketch of the outline of her body and noted the places where the burns had emerged first. That was an important discovery in itself, something he could share with other medical doctors so they would know if they used the drugs like he did, what to look for. He was sure that no one had tracked where the first outbreak of Stephen Johnson’s Syndrome happens in the body. A little glow started inside of him. He wondered if his parents would be proud of him. He glanced up at Layne again. She still hadn’t moved. Her face was pale, and she was shaking a little. He knew she had to be in excruciating pain. As he scanned her body, he noticed that she had taken her shoes off, the blisters that had traveled down her legs making angry red marks. The welts on her arms were already weeping, the skin breaking down and degrading. Her body was having a very severe reaction. Based on his research, he knew that it was just a question of time before her organs gave out. It was a sad thing, he thought, that so many medical doctors used medications in such a flippant way, when they didn’t really understand the side effects or what they could do to the human body. Perhaps he could be the one to shine some light on that. He jotted a note in his book to do an experiment on natural medications. Maybe that was a good direction to go. His mind darted forward, suddenly feeling excited. If I didn’t have to work the stupid university job, he thought, I would just do medical research all day long, every single day.
As soon as he finished making the note in his journal, he heard a noise and glanced up. Layne had slumped in the corner of her cage, the shackle around her wrist rattling. Joseph knew he didn’t need to keep her connected to the cage. She was in no condition to fight him or anyone else. Her breaths were coming in gasps, one, then a long pause, then another. Layne’s head had rolled to the side, her eyes closed, her mouth wide open as though she was trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible with every inhale. Her lungs were likely filling with fluid, her airway narrowing with the burns spreading internally. Soon, he knew, her airway would swell closed. Most people with severe burns didn’t necessarily die from the burns. They frequently died from an airway that was swollen shut or a raging infection that broken skin couldn’t prevent.
Joseph stood up and stretched, walking towards Evan’s cage. The young man, who just a few hours ago had been willing to fight the world, was now curled up in a fetal position on the ground. From what Joseph could see, the entire right side of his body was covered in welts, a few of them weeping and bleeding. Joseph realized they must have spread to his lower body as there were damp stains on his carefully pressed khaki pants where the fluids had soaked through.
He heard a gasp from Layne’s cage and walked over. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open as far as it could go, but he could tell no air was getting into her chest. Her airway had closed. She was suffocating. The gasp only lasted for a second, her blood oxygen level likely already so low that she couldn’t fight anymore. Her face slumped towards her chest. Joseph checked his watch. It was a little after one o’clock in the morning. Only two hours had passed. “Well, that didn’t take long,” he muttered, walking towards the back of her cage. He stuck two fingers inside, feeling for a carotid pulse on her neck. There was none. He took a moment to look at her. He thought about how just a few hours before she had been hurriedly carrying a pile of work to do out to her car. “I’ll bet you had no idea your day would end like this, my dear,” Joseph said. He looked at the cage door and considered unlocking it and going in, but he decided against it. Another subject was still active in his experiment. He needed to observe.
Evan was still in the fetal position. Joseph couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. Joseph guessed that he probably wasn’t. From his pants pocket, he pulled out the keys to the van. He walked out the shop door, noticing the night was cool, the low humidity showing off a blanket of beautiful stars above the garage. He opened the back, surveying what was inside. He checked to make sure there were two blankets for his newest subjects. It would be time to move them soon, he knew. He checked his supply of chloroform, jiggling the bottle a little. It was running low. He would need to use the stun gun on his next subjects. He shook his head a bit, feeling slightly discouraged, knowing there wasn’t time to get more supplies. Things were moving too quickly with his research.
By the time Joseph walked back into the garage, he was fairly certain that both Layne and Evan had died. He unlocked the cage door that Layne was in, double-checking that she was gone. As he pulled his finger away from her neck, he noticed that he had fluid on his fingers from where her skin had broken down. Her entire body had turned to mush from the powerful reaction to the drugs. He thought for a moment about taking pictures but decided not to do so. He hadn’t taken pictures of any of his victims. In a way, he felt that it diminished their contribution, that it turned them into pieces of meat, not human beings that had given their lives for the betterment of all of mankind.
While he knelt over Layne’s body, he heard his phone buzz. He had left it on the workbench, set to only vibrate. Irritation flooded over him. What notification he could be getting in the middle of the night? It was a news service, sending a flash report about two people that had gone missing in the Sauk Valley. Joseph tapped on the article, seeing headshots of both Layne and Evan on his phone. He glanced back at them, the difference between how they looked in their photos and how they looked now startling him. Layne’s lips had already turned blue, her eyes closed, the sores on her body still weeping blood and fluid. He wasn’t even sure if Evan had died yet. The combination of Allopurinol and Phenobarbital had done what he thought it would. He scanned the article, noting that it was sketchy on details. All it said was the two of them d
isappeared at the same time from an office building downtown. That much was true. He pursed his lips together and shook his head. They were never fast enough for him. Never.
That people were taking notice of his work gave him a little extra energy. The aching in his left ankle didn’t seem so bad, although if he had to guess he had minimally a high ankle sprain, possibly a break. It didn’t matter. He could not allow his own physical health to slow him down. There was work to do.
Recharged by the news story and the attention he was getting, he pulled a flatbed dolly out of the corner of the garage, rolling it towards Layne’s cage, the wheels clattering and spinning as he pushed it. It was the heavy-duty kind, like the ones found at a home improvement store that carried lumber. He knew he could get the hoist if he needed it, but he didn’t think he would. He glanced at Evan, who was unconscious. Maybe he could put both of them on the dolly at the same time and save himself a trip to the van? Given how his ankle was feeling, that might not be a bad idea, he realized. Before going into Layne’s cage again, he put on latex gloves and a sterile gown. He didn’t want to get fluids on him while transferring their bodies. Stepping inside Layne’s cage, he half expected her to sit up and look at him, but she didn’t. He used the key from the inside of his pocket to unhook the shackle on her wrist. Underneath, the skin had almost completely degraded. He could see down to flesh and muscle. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, but it was necessary. You’ll see, what you’ve done has made an enormous impact for the good of man.” He grabbed her ankles and pulled her toward the doorway, trying to avert his gaze in case her skirt rode up. Once he got her over the threshold, he lifted her upper body onto the dolly and then her lower body. She was flat on her back.