Love Undecided

by Denise Wells

  I blow past the intake desk, yelling a good morning to the agent on duty, and head up the stairs to the little conference room. He is on the phone when I walk in the room but still manages to give me a dirty look and point repeatedly at his watch. Who still wears a watch these days anyway? Doesn’t everyone just look at their phone to see what time it is? Plus, I’m early.

  He ends his call just as Sherman pokes his head in the room. “Got anything?” he asks, looking at Bauer.

  Bauer shakes his head.

  “All right, the profiler will be here soon. I’d already sent him the file, just in case. The rest of the guys are in con room two.”

  Bauer then lets me know that they discovered a hidden camera inside a teddy bear at Makayla Jones’ house last night.

  “Oh God, was he recording the little girl?” I ask. “I can’t believe it. How did he do it? How did it work?”

  “It doesn’t look like the camera records, just streams. So he would have to grab a screenshot if he wanted a still of anything. But, when he broke into the house as The Shower Stealer, he planted a remote activated nanny cam with an internet feed so he was able to watch Makayla whenever he wanted to.” He continues with some additional tech speak about USB power sources, radio frequencies, and VPNs that I kind of tune out.

  “So basically, the shower stealing thing was just a front for planting the cameras, because of course we always assume something was taken when there’s a breakin and not something left—”

  I interrupt to ask him the only thing I’m really wondering about now. “So was there a camera at Sofia’s house and Madison’s house too?”

  “We sent units to check. I haven’t heard back yet, but I’m going to assume the answer is yes. We still hesitate to disable them until we are able to track the signal. But Sherman has sent guys to personally warn the remaining two families, Kendall Martin’s and Addie Shaw’s, about what they should and should not allow their daughters to do in the privacy of their bedrooms until he is caught. We are having someone rearrange the stuffed animals a bit in each girls’ room so that his visibility is reduced, but not enough to make him suspicious.”

  “So, is the camera at Makayla’s similar to the camera at my house?”

  “They are similar, though yours is a bit more robust. The cameras hidden in the teddy bears are about the size of a quarter and the camera at your balcony is about the size of a lemon. They aren’t super high-tech, you can get them online for forty dollars, but they were definitely easy to hide.”

  Sherman knocks on the door frame as he walks by to get our attention.

  “He’s heading in, let’s go.”

  Bauer and I head to conference room two. It’s a room usually used for lectures and presentations. Instead of tables and chairs, it’s got those little chairs with attached desktops for everyone to sit at. The desktop tips up and you can fold it down to the side when not in use.

  “I love these chairs! I haven’t seen these since high school,” I say.

  I grab a seat and start tipping my desktop up and over my lap, then up and over to the side. Sometimes it’s the little things that are entertaining.

  The rest of the task force is clearly not as amused as I am. In fact some of the guys can barely fit their beefy frames in the desks. Their folded up and contorted body frames remind me of caricatures.

  Sherman enters the room. “The profiler is here. He’ll be in soon. You will listen and give him respect. He knows his shit. Don’t waste his time. He’s here as a personal favor.”

  “I thought that’s what we had her for,” one of the guys says, pointing at me.

  “You a profiler?” Sherman asks looking at me.

  “Me? No, not a profiler.”

  “That answer your question?” Sherman asks looking back at the officer. Then shuts the door without waiting for a response.

  Everyone looks at me, I’m sure wondering what my role in all this is then. I have to be honest at this point with so little to go on, so am I.

  The profiler shows up a short time later. Gasps of surprise ring though the room.

  “That’s right, I’m a little person,” he says. “Make the little things count, appreciate the little things in life, you’re almost tall enough to be taken seriously, you’d make a good armrest, you must be a positive person since you’re always looking up, you gotta hand it to short people sometimes cause they can’t reach it otherwise. Blah, de-blah, fucking blah. Okay? Get all your laughs out now, all your little jokes. Got it all out? Great, now fuck off, sit up straight, and listen. Take notes if you’re too stupid to remember what I say. I’m an offender profiler, not your babysitter. I don’t have time to repeat myself and I barely have time for questions.”

  Everyone in the room sits up straighter, I grab my pen and paper, ready to take notes; even if that does make me stupid in his eyes.

  He writes a few things on a whiteboard:

  Male. Organized. Blue-collar worker. Single. No kids. Lives alone. Works with his hands.

  Then starts talking. “Okay, first and most important, these two girls will not be his only victims. If he hasn’t already, he will be taking more girls. Similar age and social standing, but not necessarily similar in looks and appearance. He likes little girls, but they aren’t in any danger from him. At least not physical danger. He wants what he thinks they represent, which is innocence.”

  I try to take notes as he gives us information, especially since everything he is saying is filling in every blank that we’ve had with this whole investigation. But he speaks so fast, it makes it difficult.

  “He was more than likely sexually assaulted as a child, repeatedly. So he probably won’t do the same to these girls, though he does have the predilections to. And let me be clear, just because he has not sexually assaulted yet, does not mean he won’t.”

  The thought of that makes me sick to my stomach.

  “Right now we are dealing with a pedophile, people, and make no mistake, there is a difference between a child molester and a pedophile,” he says.

  “A pedophile gets his rocks off by thinking about children in a sexual way. A molester gets his rocks off by actually abusing children in a sexual way. Many pedophiles never move on to molest. Let’s hope this guy stays that way. My guess is he’s taking pictures of these girls to use later, for his own pleasure. He’s not a distributor of kiddie porn. Any questions?”

  Wisely, no one speaks up.

  “Okay, now, let’s get to the shower. Even though he is literally taking a shower, this shower is metaphorical for him—”

  “Ha!” I say, turning toward Bauer and pointing a finger at him. “I knew it was a spiritual shower.” Bauer rolls his eyes at me.

  I face back forward, feeling very smug, only to see the profiler standing before me, giving me a very stern look. His gaze is even with mine, even though I am sitting.

  “Are you through?” he asks.

  “Yes, sir,” I say.

  He nods, and continues, “As I was saying, this shower represents more of a way to wash away anything that he considers ‘dirty’ about him and replace it with a new and ‘clean’ him.” He uses finger quotes on the words dirty and clean.

  “And he does this using the same place these girls bathe every day, their own showers. It’s deliberate on his part. It’s purposeful. And, as far as he’s concerned, it’s effective. Or at least it will be.

  “Now, here’s what’s needed from you idiots. He’s got a specific number of victims for a reason. Figure it out. There could be an order to the victims. Figure it out. You already know who the victims are going to be. Keep them safe. Any questions? Good. I hate questions.”

  He leaves without waiting for a response or saying goodbye. Everyone in the room seems a little stunned. Bauer speaks first.

  “Okay, let’s get guys on the other two girls immediately. Anyone not still on shift, go home and get some rest. I need you fresh.” He claps his hands and everyone sort of scatters.

  “What about you?”
I ask him.

  He looks exhausted with dark circles under his eyes, a scruffy face and messy hair. Just not in a good way, and definitely not a bit like the Bradley Cooper from The A-Team movie lookalike I’ve grown accustomed to.

  “I’ve been here all night, and I’ll be here all day. Nothing is changing that.” He moves to stand, his body getting stuck in the desk. It rises with him, caught around his hips.

  “Fucking desks! I’ve always hated them,” he says, pushing it down his legs and trying to step out of it without falling.

  I start to laugh. “You poor thing,” I say. “Did you have the same problem back in school too?”

  My pinkie finger starts to spasm.

  School.

  Holy shit.

  “Bauer, that’s how he knows them. The girls. He works at their school.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I got a feeling. A real one. It’s strong. I know I’m right.”

  “Okay, then Cookie. Let’s find a single guy with no kids who works with his hands at the school.”

  Chapter 47

  Kat

  “I think we need to stakeout the school,” I tell Bauer.

  “Hang on, Cookie. We need to figure out who the guy is first. Then we need probable cause. Then we can try to find him.” He pauses to take a sip of coffee. Then grimaces at the taste.

  “I’ll get you fresh coffee, you figure out who this guy is so we can have a stakeout,” I tell Bauer.

  There’s no fresh coffee in the break room. So I make a fresh pot, feeling very helpful now that I’m solving cases and making coffee. I text Brad as I wait for the coffee to brew.

  Me: Guess who had a feeling and pretty much broke the case wide open?

  Brad: Bates?

  Me: Ha. No. And it’s Bauer. You know that.

  Me: But not Bauer who broke the case wide open. That was ME!

  Brad: I never had a doubt, beautiful. So, who is it?

  Me: Who’s who?

  Brad: Who’s the bad guy? What’s his name?

  Me: Oh, I don’t know. We still have to figure that out.

  Brad: So, really you just put a little crack in the case? And not broke it wide open.

  Me: Whatever. Shut up. I have to go, I’m very busy.

  Brad: I love you, baby.

  Me: Uh huh.

  Brad: Be safe.

  I get back to the room with Bauer’s coffee, and a cup for me.

  “Cancel the coffee order, Cookie. We gotta go. I’ve got a name.”

  “You’ve got a name? Like who the guy is? Already? How?”

  “Anonymous tip.”

  “Anonymous tip? Don’t we get like hundreds of tips, what makes you think that this one is legit?”

  “We won’t know for certain until we catch him. But there was something different about the tip, something different about his voice and the way the tip was left. Most tippers want to self-aggrandize and make more out of their tip than it is. This guy left his tip very quickly: the guys first name, Gil, and that he was going to take another girl today, then he hung up. But, when we ran the name through the database guess what came up?”

  “What?”

  “One Gil Iverson. Groundskeeper. Sail Point Middle School.”

  “Ohmigod, I was right!?”

  “Did you doubt that you were right?”

  “Always.”

  “Well, good thing for you, Sherman never doubts that you’re right.”

  Sherman pokes his head into the doorway. “Let’s go, we’ve got an address and a warrant.”

  The criminal defense attorney in me is always amazed at how quickly the bureaucracy in the police department can move when it really wants to.

  Chapter 48

  Kat

  We pull up in front of Gil Iverson’s house in a matter of minutes.

  “I feel so bad-ass right now,” I tell Bauer. “We’re going on a raid!”

  “Not we, Cookie. You are staying in the car, especially in that outfit.”

  I look down at my tank and skirt, not seeing what he means.

  “What’s wrong with my outfit?” I ask.

  He just scoffs in return and gets out of the car to follow Sherman to the front door. I know this is a cute outfit; I’ve worn it before and received compliments on it. Plus, I feel like I have a good eye for fashion. I mean, not in the way that Remi has an eye for fashion, but enough so that I don’t look like an idiot. I take a sitting selfie of the outfit anyway and text it to Remi asking her if there is something wrong with my outfit.

  Yes, I’m that shallow.

  The house is in a slightly older section of town where a lot of the transient and migrant workers live and most of the homes are rented out, not owner occupied, and therefore in varying degrees of disrepair.

  Gil Iverson’s home is no exception.

  The grass is yellowed and sparse. He has dead flowers in window boxes by what I’m assuming is a kitchen window and possibly a living room window. There’s a one car garage off to the side, which still has the wooden door that you pull up by hand. A car sits in the driveway, but it’s covered with a tarp that is weighted down with cinder blocks on the ground at all four corners and one on the roof.

  I get out of the car to go check the make of the one under the tarp. I’m betting it’s a white car that looks like a police car, without the red and blue lights. Sure enough, it’s a white Crown Victoria. God, this is almost too easy.

  My phone dings with a text, I let out a small shriek of fright and look around quickly. The neighborhood is quiet. The text is from Remi, reassuring me that my outfit is totally on point.

  Take that, Chance Bauer!

  I hurry back to the car and send Bauer a quick text to let him know what I’ve found. And also that I am still waiting in the car, for the most part. He and Sherman, and the two backup officers come back to the front of the house moments later, empty-handed.

  “The house is clean,” he says. “But there is a room that was clearly set up as a photography room and another that was for the girls to sleep in. We’ve called in the crime lab guys to dust for prints and anything else they can find. The two badges are going to wait here in case he returns, and we are going to go stakeout the school.”

  The excitement builds inside me again. Not only are we catching the bad guy, but we are going to nail my creepy stalker at the same time. I can get rid of that stupid camera and finally be able to enjoy naked hot tub again.

  Mmmm, naked hot tub.

  Mmmm, naked Brad in the hot tub.

  I start to flush all over.

  “You okay, there, Cookie?” Bauer asks. “You look a little red.”

  “Yup! Doing good,” I reply, staring straight ahead not willing to look him in the eye in case he can read the thoughts on my face.

  I know, we’ve already established that I don’t have a good poker face.

  Chapter 49

  Kat

  We pull into the school parking lot, but it’s still pretty empty. School doesn’t start until seven fifty a.m. and its barely seven a.m. now.

  “Now what?” I ask Bauer.

  “Now, we wait,” he says.

  I pull out my phone to check my messages, surprisingly not a lot of people have tried to reach me since the last time I checked it, at five a.m. this morning. So, I resume a previous game of Candy Crush, making sure to turn the volume on my phone down so that Bauer doesn’t know what I’m doing. He is immersed in his own phone, so I don’t think he’d care anyway.

  “I can hear Candy Crush,” he says. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

  “Nope,” I say with a smile, “I’m still trying to beat level sixty-five, I’m on a mission.”

  “Sixty-five?” he scoffs. “Amateur.”

  “I just started playing.”

  “When, yesterday?”

  “No.”

  “Well, when you’re finished playing, the guy drives an older blue Toyota Corolla. Keep an eye out for him just in case,” he says.

>   “Got it,” I reply, and reluctantly put my phone away. It immediately beeps with a text. It’s from Brad. I smile big as I read it:

  Brad: Good morning my beautiful firecracker - my shift just started, so I may not get a chance to contact you again today. Just want to make sure you know how much I adore you. Every single part of you. There is nothing in this world that is more important to me than you are. I’ll be thinking about you - today and every day. Stay safe.

  I can’t believe how giddy I feel with him. But I’m too happy to let my happiness bring me down. I know, that seems like it doesn’t make sense. But think about it, it makes total sense. Being too happy can always bring you down.

  Me: Ditto! I love you. I’ll be thinking about last night, today and every day.

  He’s always been better with the mushy stuff than I am.

  Brad: Now I’m thinking about last night, and I’m hard.

  Me: Oh! Sexting at work, I like it! You ‘hard’ is my favorite!

  Brad: Don’t start something you can’t finish.

  Me: Step into the bathroom - I’ll ‘finish’ it. ;-)

  Brad: On my way!

  “Hey!” Bauer says, “pay attention, there’s a blue Corolla!” He slaps me on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

  Me: Gotta go, babe - sorry!

  Brad: Nobody likes a tease!

  I put away my phone and return my full attention to Bauer and the blue Corolla. The hair on the back of my neck stands up - I feel excited and terrified at the same time. The car circles the lot slowly, then parks and sits there for a moment. I can’t tell who is in the car. The driver appears to be stalling, maybe watching for us. After a moment, a woman gets out and starts walking toward the school. She’s alone.

  “Shit,” Bauer says.

  “You can say that again,” I say.

  “Shit,” he says again.

  “Smart ass,” I reply. “Do we even know for sure that he’s going to come here today?”

  “Yes and no, it’s mostly a hunch. But I have faith in my hunches. Like you with your feelings.”