Ted’s wife had died from cancer, a few years back. He didn’t have children, and his parents were gone too.
He hoped Denny would be alright now that they’d found Clarissa alive. Jeremy Manchester never had a chance. Denny had dreamed where the boy was buried, but denied her vision for months. They’d met when Sue Brookfield brought her to the precinct after she’d seen the exact tree from her dream on the local television news.
Unfortunately, Denny suffered a full-blown Stroke after they found Jeremy’s headless remains. She’d been in a coma when Clarissa was abducted, yet she’d managed to call the girl’s name.
Denny... As Ted pulled into the precinct parking lot and took a deep breath that burned through his incision and pressed down painfully on his sternum, he realized Denny was alone, just her and RN Kari Logan. Her husband Jonus—the jerk!—had left her for her best friend since grade school, Sue. What a low blow! Maybe she needs me? I don’t know. Just gotta get Russo.
‡ ‡ ‡
Chief Detective Theodore Collins entered the Downtown Dayton Precinct steady and sure, his quiet tread on the linoleum floor not disturbing the other officers at work. He wanted to slide into his office unobserved, if possible.
Police Chief Harold J. Ferguson stepped out of his office and signaled to his men. “Attention, Officers!”
Everyone stood up, including the admin staff, while all the boys in blue saluted in crisp, synchronized unison. They all stood at rigid attention until Ted lightly tipped his right hand to his forehead and smiled sheepishly at the display of honor he’d really hoped to avoid and knew he didn’t deserve.
The Precinct Office Manager, Miss Elva Lester, began applauding as the firm salutes relaxed. She approached Ted with a glowing smile and a hug. They’d known each other for years. The whole room was applauding amidst calls of greeting and well wishes.
“Elvie,” Ted said shyly, bending down to lightly touch the narrow shoulders of the near-retirement-age, African-American woman. She was small, but mighty. “Guess I missed this place a little.”
A young female assistant, Linda, and a rookie cop, Smithson, were placing a big sheet cake on the reception counter near the front of the large room cluttered with desks. “Welcome Back Ted!” was etched in royal blue icing.
“Ah, guys, come on. This is no time for a party,” Ted growled good-naturedly, blushing to the roots of his gray-streaked, sandy hair.
“Now Theodore,” Elvie said, like she was correcting a truant middle-school student, “If I says there’s to be a party…”
“I know,” Ted said with a hesitant smile. “What Elvie says is gospel ‘round here.”
“I’ve missed you, young man, whether these other clowns did or not.” She nodded her diminutive head, crowned with more gray-than-black coiled, braided hair—the same way she’d worn it for decades. Her reading glasses were hanging from a gold chain around her neck.
Chief Ferguson was attired in his dress blue uniform, including his wide-brimmed cap. He worked his way to the front of the room as it continued to fill-up with employees from all over the building, even the medical officers and forensic specialists from the Police Morgue.
“Thanks, Harry,” Ted said softly to the Chief. “It’s good to be back.”
“How ya’ feeling, Ted?” the Chief inquired, looking concerned.
“Okay. Ready to jump back into the case.”
Chief Ferguson patted Ted on the shoulder as Elvie cut the cake. “Ya’ mean the Russo case? It’s out of our jurisdiction. The FBI has taken over…”
“We’ll talk about it later, Harry,” Ted stated firmly. He couldn’t hide his troubled expression or miss the Chief’s worried frown.
“Your attention for just a moment, everyone,” Chief Ferguson hushed the crowd. “I won’t make a big deal out of this.” He slipped a letter-sized portfolio out of the front desk drawer. “I personally wanted to give this to you here at the precinct. I knew you wouldn’t want a media circus, but this is from the Mayor’s Office—a letter of commendation for bravery in the line of duty.”
Another rousing round of applause as Ted accepted the leather folder. It was handed to him opened to read, but he closed it after a quick glance. He just wanted to get this over with. This was not what he needed right now.
“Any words, Ted?” Ferguson asked.
“Ah, just thanks, I guess.” Collins tried to smile, but it was difficult. He pulled away from the Chief’s firm handshake.
“One more thing, Detective Collins,” the Chief said. “I am privileged and pleased to present you with the highest United States Policeman Bar Insignia, Red and Gold, for bravery and honor. May I pin it on?”
“Ah, I didn’t know to wear my uniform, Chief,” Ted swallowed noticeably and then hesitated. “Harry, I can’t do this. Please.” He turned slightly to address the crowd, “There should be no commendation or Policeman’s honorary bar when the criminal is still at-large. Excuse me everyone, I have work to do.”
There was total silence as Ted left the room, Police Chief Ferguson holding the tiny unopened jewel case; the portfolio left on the desk next to the small plates of unclaimed slices of cake.
Elva just watched him go, shaking her head. She had a lot of work to do with her friend of many years, Theodore.
Ted pushed open his office door and then slammed it. He took some deep breaths, clutching his chest. It’s just anxiety; nothin’ to worry about.
He dropped into his chair behind the desk. Some personal mail had piled up, spilling haphazardly across the blotter. Right on top was a sunny picture postcard, “Greetings from Mexico!”
From force of habit, he turned it over—bright red streaks smeared across the back and a crude drawing of a bloody knife, signed “Benny” in a childish scrawl.
Ted hit the door running. It was time he and Harry Ferguson had a heart-to-heart.
‡ ‡ ‡
An hour later—after raised voices, hurried conference calls, a quickly scanned transmission, and an evidence bag from the forensics lab—Detective Ted Collins was working for the FBI on the Benny Russo Case. A six-year-old boy had been taken in El Paso, Texas, by a man with a dog.
‡ ‡ ‡
Later when Ted was back in his office, the thrill of the chase and a definite direction pumped him full of adrenalin. He realized he hadn’t thought about his heart beating in … what? Over an hour?
Maybe he was thinking too much and bringing on imagined symptoms, echoes of collapsing on a chilly Colorado mountain in front of a crude cabin that told a sour story, hard to swallow. At the time, he’d thought he’d never see the light of day again.
The landline buzzed twice.
“Collins,” he answered.
“Hey, Ted, welcome back. Franco Valetti, FBI.”
“Franc, I just returned to duty this morning.”
“Yeah, I know. They contacted me immediately. You received a postcard from Russo? I saw the transmission—sick, disgusting psychopath.” He hesitated for a quick breath, “I’m putting a Task Force together. I wanna’ get the SWAT team from Colorado, especially Morningstar and Horse, the Ute Indian guides. Lt. Dawson is on assignment, but he’ll be available next week. I’m pulling ‘im.”
“Russo grabbed a six-year-old boy in El Paso,” Ted said.
“Affirmative. We just received an urgent plea from the Mexican government that he picked up a kid in Juarez too. We’re checking the camera footage from the bridge. Not sure what his rig looks like, but we know it’s big with a freezer generator. Russo has been known to alter his appearance, but the dog, the Doberman, can’t be hidden or changed.”
“He’s got two kids? He’s escalating. When are you heading south of the border?” Ted asked.
“Not yet. Russo wouldn’t hand you that info. He’s playing you. The Mexican Ambassador contacted the FBI ‘cause they believe he’s back on our side of the border. More on that later. Oh, Ted, Sheriff Colton Reamy from Evergreen, he’s on staff already.”
“Great! He’s
had to live with Russo’s dirty work way too long,” Ted agreed. It would be good to work with the Sheriff again. Reamy’s elderly mother, Claire, about as docile as a rattlesnake—should let her loose on Russo!
“He’s going through his records now—missing children, assumed runaways, so-called spousal abductions, everything…”
“I’ll contact him, Franc,” Ted interrupted. “We went through all those files when I was in Colorado a few months ago. We searched those cold cases together. ‘Tween the two of us, we practically know ‘em by heart.”
“Right on, Ted. We’re on a short clock. The two boys? Benny’s not going to give ‘em a chance to talk or get away like Clarissa and Tommy.”
“Names?”
“Ah, Roderick Lopez from El Paso; Luis Hernandez Aguilar from Juarez. Both six years old with dark brown/black hair, brown eyes, thin, small for their age. Files and pictures are on the way to you as we speak.”
“Thanks, Franco.”
“Ted, really glad to have ya’ back. Feeling up to this?”
“Absolutely.”
‡ ‡ ‡
Chapter Five
Denny and Kari spent the rest of the night at the Alexander Home in Harrison Township, located just outside Dayton Municipal Proper. Mrs. Alexander had served Ms. Logan hot coffee and crumb-cake at 7 a.m.
The two women had been up all night, along with Clarissa’s father. Denny was with the little girl behind closed doors. They’d waited in near silence, hoping Denny would come tell them what had triggered this crisis. Small talk just didn’t cut it when a child was petrified and no one knew how to help her.
Kirk decided to go to work since Kari and Denny were with his family, but anxiety had ruled his fair, freckled face. He kissed his light-skinned, African-American wife of over 10 years on the cheek. “You’ll call me as soon as … you know anything?”
“Of course, dear,” she’d responded. Her husband was tall, athletic, and blonde.
Early in the investigation when Clarissa went missing, it was suspected that the five-year-old’s mixed parentage had marked her for a vicious hate crime.
They all knew now that the child hadn’t been specifically targeted, and Clarissa didn’t really look mixed-race. There was no way anyone could have known unless they knew the family.
It was a random abduction, based on opportunity, by the diseased mind of a man who had been victimized as a child and killed his own parents.
There were some early psych records on Russo that diagnosed him with Asperger’s Syndrome as a child, barely functional—no speech—then Paranoia Schizophrenia in his early twenties, but then an odd twist, he was in the top of all his classes through college. In grad school, he was certified as a Mensa genius. Nothing current, however, so he probably wasn’t on any stabilizer meds.
Twenty-four-year-old Registered Nurse Kari Logan was gracious to Mrs. Alexander. Really, what could she say? But she needed to talk to the elegant, soft-spoken woman about the dreams that were tormenting her baby.
No one would ever have guessed looking at the calm, attractive fortyish mother what she’d been through the past few months. She’d swerved off the road to avoid hitting a man walking his dog, only to be struck on the head, waking up in the E.R. with a deep gash and concussion to find out her precious daughter had vanished. That was just the beginning of the nightmare to follow.
“Mrs. Alexander,” Kari said politely, sitting across from her at the kitchen table, the crumb-cake untouched, “How are you doing? This has to be … well, hard for you and your husband to accept.”
“Please, Kari, call me Sophia,” she said with an attempt at a smile. “Yes, of course it’s been very difficult. It all seems so otherworldly. You ask yourself how something like this could happen to your family …”
The sentence was left hanging in the air.
Kari took a sip of delicious hot, black coffee. She knew she needed to help the Alexander’s understand that there was nothing wrong with Clarissa. The dreams were not caused by emotional or physical trauma. She’d been waiting for the right time to broach this subject, but she couldn’t wait any longer.
Something serious was brewing. Kari’s own intuitive feelings had been on edge even before Denny hadn’t been able to reach Detective Ted Collins. It was the only break the clairvoyant woman had taken from the child. Even though it was hard to understand, they had to respect the secrets that existed between Denny and Clarissa. Their bond had been formed long before they’d met in person.
“Ah, Sophia, there’s a group that’s working with Denny, a remote viewing program run by Dr. Irma Tessa and Dr. Sarah Covington. It’s … ah, classified, military … and we’d have to get approval from them and from you and Kirk too of course, but…”
“What are you saying, Kari? I don’t know what you mean.” Sophia stood up, frowning, taking a few steps back from the butcher-block table. She looked puzzled.
Kari stood too, but kept her distance, non- threatening. The poor woman had been through so much.
“The Tessa Group has helped Denny with accepting the … ah, messages in her dreams.”
“Messages? What kind of messages?”
“Denny’s dreams are precognitive or cognitive. She sees things as they happen, I guess. Real things in real-time.”
Sophia eased back down into her chair. “Oh, we don’t believe in that nonsense.”
Kari remained standing. “Both Denny and Clarissa have an extra part in their brains that we don’t have. It’s an additional cortex. Einstein was known to have enlarged his brain area as he matured. It was found during his autopsy.”
“How do you know Clarissa has this? That’s impossible. She’s just a little girl, not much more than a baby.”
“When she was at the hospital in Colorado, it was noticed on an MRI.”
“Why weren’t we told? Why didn’t the doctor explain this?” The older woman’s lip began to tremble; she was fighting back tears.
“The doctors in Colorado didn’t understand it, but Ted—Detective Collins—he knew, but he was in pretty bad shape when he was medevacked in, as was Clarissa.”
“Yes, of course, the poor man had a massive heart attack and bypass surgery, but why would he know about this? This is preposterous! I don’t think we should talk about this, Ms. Logan.”
Kari sat back down, picking up her warm cup and holding it. “Could I have one of the doctors come talk to you?”
“I don’t know. No, I don’t see how Clarissa’s dreams could be anything but nightmares. She told us last night a little boy had … had … been killed. His head …” Sophia couldn’t finish; she was too choked up.
“I see,” Kari said softly. “I don’t know what they dreamed, but that’s what this serial killer does—he decapitates his victims.”
“I know,” Mrs. Alexander said and dissolved into uncontrollable tears, shaking her head, “No, no.”
Kari was on her feet in an instant, holding the troubled woman. The RN believed in the power of healing through touch. Sophia crumpled into her arms. Kari knew that crying could be healing, washing away the hurt, disbelief, and confusion.
Sophia cried for several minutes, then looked up into the nurse’s eyes. “Do you believe in this?”
“Yes, I do.”
The door to Clarissa’s bedroom opened, and Denise Ryder stepped out. “She’s sleeping now. Is everything alright?” Denny collapsed in the chair next to them. She was pale and exhausted.
“We’re just talking about the … dreams,” Kari said softly.
Denny dropped her forehead into her hands. “Yeah, that’s good. Benny Russo has … had two children. Only one of them is alive.”
Sophia gasped, “What can we do? No, this can’t be happening! Leave my baby alone!”
Denny looked up—big eyes full of endless wisdom. “I need to call Ted,” she mumbled, seeing a reality not of her choosing. Kari had no idea what she and the child had dreamed, but it had to be very disturbing.
Sophia calme
d herself and reached out to take Denny’s hand. “Clarissa?”
Kari answered instead, “We should let her sleep.”
‡ ‡ ‡
Chapter Six
Russo had felt like someone was watching him last night, but no one in this world—two worlds, ten worlds, the whole sinkin’ Universe!—could possibly know where he’d taken the children.
After he’d lovingly cradled the precious face in his hands, marveling at how tiny it was when the intellect was so broad and varied—the child speaking two languages at only five or six years old. That’s why he’d chosen, in fact honored, the boy from El Paso, Texas, the good ole’ U.S. of A., as a definite candidate to join the other articulate kids he’d trained. Maybe this here boy could teach the others and himself to speak español.
Then he’d stopped, feeling eyes upon him again, and hurriedly slipped the beautiful brown-eyed head into an ice-filled cooler.
Benny looked around at the freezing blood and useless little body as he yanked the floodlight away from the carnage he needed to clean up, angling the yellow glow into the trees that sheltered the cabin from prying eyes. No one had been in sight. There were no footprints in the freshly fallen snow.
“Dog,” he’d shouted. “Here, Dog, come to me … NOW!”
The Doberman dutifully jumped off the lean-to porch and trotted over to his master.
“Dog, go—look—see. Intruders, Boy … NOW!”
The Doberman had sniffed at the headless corpse and splattered blood until Benny wacked him up the side of his head, pointing to the edge of the forest.
Dog took off at a rapid clip, bounding up the hill to the evergreens and stark, black skeletons of sleeping sentinels.
Benny watched as the well-trained animal scouted the perimeter of the unknown, deedless property. Dog was effective and thorough, moving from one tree to the next and checking out every single bit of dried, dead foliage that ringed the secluded cabin.
Russo kept the light on Dog, feeling more comfortable as the canine rejected each frozen plant, stripped tree, and snow-laden pine.
Stroke of Innocence! (Denny Ryder Paranormal Crime Series Book 4) Page 2