None of that mattered if the police never came to search the place, which is exactly the way he planned it. No point making stupid mistakes, though. He washed the few water glasses he’d used and wiped them clean. Some empty beer bottles joined other random trash he’d accumulated, filling up another garbage bag.
Tony shut down all the computer equipment on the main floor and took it to store in the trunk of his car. He knew it would be filled by the time he drove away.
When he was done with the main floor, he walked around and as near as he could tell, the barn looked exactly like it had the first time he’d broken in.
Even the old farmer who owned the place wouldn’t know that somebody had been borrowing his property.
“It’s time, Avril.”
The cellar seemed somehow darker than it had before, which he knew was only his mind playing tricks on him.
The girl was still quiet.
“Avril?”
She didn’t answer but her eyes snapped open.
“Sometimes things happen that we don’t understand. I know you feel that way, but it’s over. I’m going to take you back to your mommy now.”
She blinked and frowned.
Don’t believe me, kid?
“It’s okay. I just need to give you a bit of medicine.”
He took out a new syringe and filled it completely with Desflurane. He had a large supply left and this would be the last time he needed it.
Avril flinched when he injected her, but she didn’t cry or whine.
“Good girl.”
Tony sat beside his daughter and patted her hair. He’d always loved that hair. It reminded him of how he’d been attracted to Cindy’s silky blonde hair when they first met.
“Did I ever tell you how much I loved your mother, sweetie? She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She really was. And she was funny and always laughing, and sometimes it just seemed like we had the perfect life.”
Avril closed her eyes.
“But then she just seemed to change. Or maybe I did. It doesn’t much matter. The only thing that matters is that we didn’t have that chemistry anymore. I just didn’t want to be near her a minute longer than I needed to be. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. I hated her. And as a result, I started to hate you, too.”
Tony kept running his hand through her hair, waiting for her breathing to stop.
“Well, hate is too strong. I just needed to find a way to get away, to start fresh with my music and a new life. I’m not even forty yet.”
He lowered his head and tried to decide if she was still breathing.
“Good-bye, my little angel.”
* * *
The remaining computer equipment was all jammed into the trunk of the car, with Avril’s body squashed down behind the front seats. He’d hidden her beneath some blankets.
He drove to the far end of the farm, where once a proud man had spent fifty years working his fields, growing a rotation of soy beans and corn. The man loved his crops, and he was proud of how he treated his land.
Tony found a patch that was hidden from view, far from the farmhouse, and he dug a large hole. There, he buried all the computer equipment.
Part of him knew it would have been right to bury Avril there, too, but he surprised himself when he couldn’t just leave his daughter in an abandoned field to rot. He wanted her to have a proper burial.
Tacoma was an hour’s drive away from Seattle. He drove there, found a little-used but paved road in the middle of nowhere, and lay Avril in the middle of the road where somebody would be sure to find her soon. Just before he drove away, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.
Part 4
Caught in the End Game
Chapter 22
August 30
August 30 was an overcast, blustery Tuesday. It wasn’t really autumn yet, but the summer was starting to slowly fade away. There wouldn’t be any more 100-plus temperatures and soon everyone would be thinking of packing up their shorts and swimming gear in favor of cardigans and jeans.
Seattle had mostly coniferous trees, with only a scattering of deciduous, so the residents didn’t get the amazing fall display of colors that their eastern cousins did. Autumn was more of a gray color than a rainbow, and everyone started to remember that it wouldn’t be long until the rain started.
It seemed that it rained for six months straight, but of course it was never actually like that. People had funny memories, and they laughed to their New York friends about how they never had to shovel the rain.
This Tuesday was still summertime, but the gray clouds mirrored Cindy’s mindset perfectly.
Her mind had been cloudy for the past 19 days, since Avril had died.
In those 19 days, Cindy had lived a foggy kind of existence, covered by a blanket of depression.
Avril’s body was discovered within six hours of it being spread out on the highway. Her arms had been positioned out like wings, and her legs were locked to each other. She looked like an angel, and although Cindy never saw the body there and refused to even look at the police photos, she liked the thought that her little girl was with the angels. She wanted to believe God had arranged her body that way as a message to her, to tell her, “Don’t worry, she’s with me now.”
A family travelling in an RV on their way to see Old Faithful at Yellowstone National Park had found themselves lost due to mis-reading their GPS and almost ran over the dead girl. The father was driving, and the mom screamed “Look out!” just in time. Their two kids woke from the scream, but the mom kept them in the RV so they never saw the girl.
After the police arrived and took a statement, they turned around and went home, promising their kids they’d see the geyser another day.
The police called forensics and soon a couple of detectives arrived on the scene as well. They knew with a single glance who the girl was. The kidnapping was the talk of the city.
When Detective Suzanne McDermott knocked on Cindy’s door and introduced herself, Cindy started crying before she managed to say a word. She and her partner tried to console her but all she would do was let out long jagged cries punctuated with screams. She collapsed onto the couch and closed her eyes as she cried.
“It’s my fault,” she tried to say between sobs. “He told me not to say anything.”
The detectives stayed with her until Tony came home. A pair of policemen had tracked him down at the music store and told him the news.
Although Tony hadn’t cried, the police later noted that he was clearly upset and horrified at the news. They felt sorry for him and drove him back home to be with his wife.
They had to formally identify the body. At first Cindy refused and Tony said he would do it, but then she realized she needed to see Avril. There was always that one chance in a million that this was a different girl, and she couldn’t ignore that chance.
Her heart sunk when she saw Avril lying on the raised cot-like table at the forensics lab.
“My baby . . . I’m so very sorry.”
Cindy went to hold her daughter’s hand but pulled back when she saw the remains of where the little finger had been hacked off. She pulled back as if hit by an electrical shock and moved away.
Tony held his wife, slowly moving her to the exit. He nodded to the tech who had been watching.
From there, the world continued to turn upside down. The funeral was three days later, on August 14. She couldn’t bring herself to do any of the organizing. Her doctor had prescribed some small white pills that she gobbled down. The pills helped to remove the stress and allow her mind to just stay blank. She needed that.
She had no idea that so many people would come to the funeral. There must have been a thousand, but she only knew a couple of dozen. The rest were the people who had nothing better to do than watch somebody else’s sorrow. She looked around the room and glared, hating every one of them.
She wondered if the Manipulator was in the church. Wasn’t that something a lot
of killers did? Go to the funeral? She’d seen that in enough movies that there had to be a kernel of truth. She wondered if the police were filming everyone who showed up.
Surprisingly, she did see her mother and father in the church. They sat in the fourth row of pews. Cindy stared at them and had mixed feelings. Part of her was grateful they showed up, but part wanted to fucking kill them; if they’d just paid the ransom, maybe Avril would be alive today.
The look on her father’s face showed that he was thinking the same thing.
Mom’s eyes were vacant. Maybe she thought she was at Sunday mass.
The funeral home had recommended that the ceremony be closed casket. Otherwise everyone would see Avril’s mangled hands. Or they could cover up her hands, but according to the funeral director, “Everyone knows about them. They’ll all look for it. They’ll care more about that than saying good-bye.”
Cindy just nodded. Her mind wasn’t able to deal with decisions so she just agreed with the funeral director whenever there was a question. She didn’t ask about costs, didn’t ask about alternatives, just nodded.
Cindy would never have a clear memory of the actual funeral or of the wake that followed. She remembered many people offering their condolences, which meant nothing. How could simple words do a damned thing to replace her daughter?
The days that followed were all fog. She sometimes would find herself waking in the middle of the day or staring at a wall in the middle of the night. Normal hours meant nothing. She avoided everybody and was glad when Tony spent little time at home. She really didn’t care where he was as long as he wasn’t with her.
Casseroles arrived. Most went into the garbage uneaten. Cindy had no appetite. All she could manage to do was to feel the overwhelming guilt of causing her child’s death.
The fog grew heavier as the days went on. Then finally Cindy awoke on this overcast almost-fall day and knew her mind was clear. She felt hunger pangs and hurried out of bed to find her way to the kitchen. She made two pieces of toast and spread raspberry jam on them, eating them while she waited for her coffee to brew. She sat and looked around her kitchen, almost as if she’d never seen it before.
“I guess I’m back,” she said. She took a deep breath and knew she’d never be the same person she was before she’d first connected with the Manipulator, but at least she felt vaguely human again.
When the coffee was ready, she poured herself a cup and drank it black. She’d never developed a taste for anything added. Well, except for a very rare Cappuccino she used as a reward for herself.
“Good,” she said. She hadn’t had any coffee since Avril had died.
During her fog, Cindy hadn’t bothered looking at the news, which was probably a good thing. For the first few days, Avril was front page headlines. It wasn’t every day that a child was murdered by a shadowy figure from the dark side of the Internet.
Today, she did turn the news on, though. Nothing much grabbed her. The lead story was about a pretty young woman who’d claimed more than a million dollars in the state lottery. The actual winning draw had happened months earlier, but the girl was incredibly shy and only now had found the courage to come forward to collect her winnings. Cindy smiled, thinking that girl had quite a future ahead of her, and then frowned when she realized if she or Tony had won that money instead, maybe Avril would still be alive.
If only . . .
“If only . . .”
She knew that if only was a mug’s game. She could list a hundred if onlys, and what would it get her? Nowhere. Avril would be just as dead.
Cindy put her coffee mug down, still staring at the pretty girl on the news. It was a photo behind the news reporter, not the actual girl, and just for a moment, rage ran through her. She wanted her daughter back!
The emotion evaporated as fast as it had arrived, and Cindy calmed herself. She pushed her coffee mug aside and turned the TV off.
She went for a shower, not completely sure when the last time she’d done that. The steaming water felt wonderful cascading down her body, and she stood there staring into the water for several minutes without moving.
When she finished, she dried herself and sat on her bed. She had no idea where Tony was. It was only seven o’clock in the morning. Maybe he’d been gone all night.
Fine with me.
All of a sudden she wondered about what was happening in her life. Did she still have a job? She hadn’t talked to Ryan. Did she still have her friends or had she chased them away by hiding in the fog? Maria?
What bills were on the way to her from the funeral and all the related activities? For that matter, what bills had arrived that she’d ignored?
Did her brother and sister come to the funeral? She didn’t know. Did she care? She didn’t know that, either.
And what about Tony? What was going on with him? Had she chased him away for good?
“Let’s hope so.”
She knew she likely wouldn’t be that lucky.
Cindy dressed. She looked for something to fit the weather and ended up wearing some dark tights and a cozy gray wool top with long floppy sleeves.
She went to her computer and checked her e-mail. She felt trepidation, wondering if the Manipulator would have been trying to contact her, to continue his extortion, even though she had nothing left to lose. However, although she had several hundred e-mails (about half of which were spam), there was nothing from the murderer.
Many of the e-mails were from her friends and family, and yes, there were notes from both her brother and sister, both friendly and full of kind wishes.
A few dozen were from various media outlets wanting interviews. She deleted them all.
One e-mail stood out from all the rest.
* * *
Dear Cindy,
Your mother and I know we should have listened to you, but there’s nothing we can do about that now. We’re so very sorry. I tried to find you at the funeral, but things are difficult with your mom and I had to take her home.
I hope one day you can forgive us for our errors. It won’t be easy, so please take your time, but remember that each day, your mother gets further and further away from us. It’s hard for her to remember much of anything, but I know she still loves you just as much as I do.
Love, Dad.
* * *
It was dated ten days earlier. She read it three times before leaving the computer and going for a walk outside.
Chapter 23
August 31
Suzanne McDermott had been a cop for twenty years. She started out partnering on a patrol car on the night shift, which she hated. Her partner was a crude middle-aged man who was just counting the days till his retirement.
Eventually, Suzanne earned her stripes and was now a detective, working (mostly) the day shift, mostly on interesting cases that didn’t involve cheap hookers and drug buys in the passageways between buildings.
This case was different for her, though. It would have been different for anybody on the force. Fuck, she thought. Nobody’s ever had a case like this before, here or anywhere else.
Suzanne hesitated only for a moment before ringing the doorbell. As she waited, she glanced around the house. Like half a million other Seattle residents, she’d listened to Cin every day. She enjoyed the radio show but hadn’t heard the most important broadcast of Cin’s career. That didn’t matter, because all of the station’s broadcasts were available for listening on the Internet. The detective listened to the whole show even before being assigned the case.
A movement to the side caught her attention and she saw Cindy McKay looking at her from a side window. Suzanne smiled and nodded, and Cindy returned the nod before disappearing. A few seconds later, the front door opened.
“Hello again, Detective.”
“Sorry to bother you again, Mrs. McKay.”
Cindy seemed lost in thought, as if she were deciding whether to be polite or to slam the door in her face. Suzanne said, “It’s okay. I won’t be long.”
; Cindy took a deep breath and stood aside. “I’m sorry. Please come in.”
They walked to the living room and Cindy waved at the armchair while taking the couch. Suzanne wanted her to feel at ease, so she sat where she was directed.
“Are you feeling any better?”
Cindy made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a snort. “I just try to get from one day to the next. It still all seems like an impossible nightmare.”
“I bet.”
“Can I get you something? I can make coffee? Water?”
“No, nothing for me.”
“So, go for it. What are you here for?”
Suzanne took out her notepad and opened it, but had second thoughts and closed it again.
“My mother was beaten by my father,” she said. The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying. “He shot and killed her when I was sixteen and somehow convinced a jury that it was self-defense.”
Cindy stared at her, but kept quiet.
“I always wondered how a woman could put up with that. Being abused for years. Decades. There were times when I hated my mother for not just packing up and moving on. I thought she was a coward for not leaving, and her cowardice meant I’ve gone through the past two decades without my mother.”
She stopped and looked at Cindy, deciding to stop talking. How could this be helping?
A curtain of silence seemed to cover the room. Suzanne thought of the face of her mother, who died at about the same age she currently was.
“Your mother didn’t have any choice,” said Cindy.
She stared at Suzanne and added, “You’ve never been abused. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I don’t see anything different in your eyes.”
“But I do. I see it every day that I look at myself in the mirror. I see fear, disgust, self-pity, and hate. Hate for him and hate for myself for being so scared.”
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