by Jenn Vakey
After releasing the scene to the officers, Rilynne took the stairs back down to her apartment. It wasn’t until she reached the door to the third floor that she remembered she had been unable to take the stairs up earlier. She pushed on the door, only to find it yet again unmoving. She reached for a lock to open it, but found that there was not a lock on the door at all. She gave the door a couple good pushes, but it still would not budge. There had to be something stopping it, but she couldn’t see what.
After a few minutes of trying, she took the stairs down another floor, and rode the elevator back up. It was just after 5:30 AM now, so she saw no point in trying to get any more sleep.
She had just stepped out of the shower thirty minutes later when she heard the doorbell ring. She was still wrapping the towel around herself when she reached the door. After quickly adjusted herself, she pulling the door open.
Ben’s eyes widened as he dropped the box in his hands. “I, uh…” he stooped down to pick it up. “I just wanted to see if you, uh, wanted a ride. See, I’m headed back to the station now, and thought you… but you aren’t dressed. I’ll, um, see you when you get there then.” Ben’s eyes seemed to be fixed on the box in his hands, and his ears were redder than Rilynne had ever seen them.
“Come in,” she said quickly as she turned away so he wouldn’t see her grin. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Make yourself at home.” As she moved towards her bedroom door, Rilynne saw in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wall, Ben’s eyes move hesitantly from the box he had just sat on the table to her. His hand moved up to his face as he dragged his knuckles thoughtlessly across his chin. She then watched his eyes move up to hers. As their eyes met, she felt a fire flash across her own cheeks. For the first time, Ben did not look away. Instead, she could have sworn she saw him grin at the sight of her blushing for a change. This only made her cheeks burn hotter. He was still holding her gaze when she passed the mirror and entered her room. As she shut the door behind her, she sneaked one last look at him. It wasn’t until their eyes met again that he finally looked back at the box he had sat down. As the door clicked closed, the thing that really struck Rilynne was that for once, Ben’s ears had not reddened.
Rilynne turned and leaned against her door, trying to sort through what had just happened. She rubbed her chest, which felt suddenly tighter, as she took a long, deep breath. “Get a grip Rilynne,” she said quietly to herself. Even if she was in a place to start dating, Ben was not even an option. After another deep breath, she shook the moment off and went to get dressed.
“So what’s in the box?” she asked Ben as she poured them both a cup of coffee. He had been nearly asleep in his chair when she had emerged from the bedroom minutes earlier.
“The door to your stairwell was jammed. I fished this out of the arm on the top of the door. It looks like someone wedged it in to make sure the door couldn’t be opened. It could be a coincidence, but since it was on the floor of the detective who happens to be working the case involving the crime scene that was just broken into, I thought I would check it out.” Ben still had his eyes closed when Rilynne sat the coffee down in front of him.
“I don’t have to be in for an hour you know. Do you want to lay down for a little bit? You look like you haven’t slept at all.” At her offer, Ben’s eyes shot open.
“No, I, uh…” he started as he picked up his coffee and took a quick drink. “I’ll be fine,” he finished after he drained nearly half of his cup.
Rilynne moved her mug to her mouth, just to hide the grin that was sneaking across her face. “Are you sure? I really wouldn’t mind.” Again Ben’s ears reached the familiar shade of red. Rilynne caught his eyes shift from his coffee to her bedroom door, before quickly returning again. “No,” he replied again quickly before draining the last of his coffee and standing up. “I really should get this into the lab to get it checked out.”
Rilynne transferred her coffee into her travel mug and followed him to the door. As the door swung shut behind them, she quickly turned to stop it, but was too late. She cursed under her breath, trying to open it again.
“What’s wrong?” Ben asked looking both amused and taken aback by her choice of words.
Rilynne kicked the door out of frustration. “I forgot my keys, and the door was set to lock automatically,” she explained. She let out a heavy sigh and turned around. “I will have to call the landlord to meet me with a spare. You might as well go ahead without me.”
Ben flashed a mischievous grin before handing her the box and reached for something in her pocket. When he knelt down at her door, Rilynne saw that he had pulled out a lock picking kit. It took mere seconds for him to unlock it and swing the door open.
“Really, Ben? I mean… really?” Rilynne laughed as she walked back into her apartment. “I don’t know whether I should be impressed or bothered.” She grabbed her keys from the bowl on the table and walked back out.
“I think impressed is the better of the two,” he sounded almost smug with his response. Rilynne caught sight of his impish grin again before he turned and led the way down the hall.
“Huh,” Rilynne mumbled to herself before following him. “Do I even want to know why you know how to do that, or why you happen to carry around a lock picking kit?”
“As a detective… no, not really. But aren’t you glad at the moment that I do?”
“Well, yes. Although it’s kind of scary how quick you were with it. Makes me feel not quite as safe and secure in my own apartment,” she said jokingly.
“Afraid I’m going to break into your apartment?”
Something about the question made Rilynne’s cheeks burn again. She was glad Ben was in front of her and couldn’t see it this time. She was usually so good at keeping her thoughts hidden from others, but her cheeks seemed to be betraying her today. “Why, should I be?” she asked quickly.
Ben chuckled, but remained silent.
* * *
“Did they find any evidence at the scene this morning?” Wilcome asked when Rilynne walked in.
“They didn’t find any prints. The window had been locked from the inside, so they had to have entered from the front door. There were no signs of breaking and entering, so whoever it was must have had a key. I called the landlord, and he still has his copy of the key. The girlfriend said she gave us the only copy she had. She claims to not know anyone else he might have given a key to. Nothing in the apartment appears to have been touched. The lights in every room were turned on, but that appears to be the only thing the intruder did at the scene,” she replied. It didn’t make sense, though, she thought to herself. Why would anyone break into a crime scene just to have a quick look around and leave?
“Could it have been the perpetrator?” Detective Davidson asked from across the room.
“There has been no evidence of him returning to any of the other abduction sites. Why would he have started now?” Wilcome asked.
“Maybe he’s evolving. It could be he isn’t getting the same satisfaction out of it as he was,” Ben offered as he walked into the room. “You should look at this.” He was holding a stack of photos. He laid them out across Rilynne’s desk for the detectives to see.
“What are we looking at?” asked Detective Wilcome.
“Is this the thing that was stuck in the door to the stairwell?” Rilynne asked as she picked up one of the pictures. It was a shiny piece of metal that had been twisted and crushed, making it impossible for her to tell what it had been previously.
The detectives in the room started to gather around the desk, all trying to get a look at the pictures. Detective Wilcome took the photo from Rilynne to examine it. “What about your door?” he asked, looking puzzled.
“When I heard the footsteps this morning I tried to take the stairs up, but the door was jammed. Ben found this jammed in the arm at the top of the door, preventing anyone from being able to open it. What is it?” she asked.
Ben pulled a report out of the file that was in his hand and
handed it to Detective Wilcome. “Here is where it gets interesting. It’s titanium and carbon fiber,” he said confidently. Rilynne noticed that Ben seemed to have an air of coolness around other people that he did not have when they were alone. It was times like this that she could see why he was so admired in his field. “Titanium and carbon fiber are both materials commonly used in the production of prosthetic limbs,” he continued. “Based on the rough edges, it looks like it has been cut off of something bigger. It very well may have been part of a prosthetic leg.”
“And someone put that in the arm of my door to slow me down in case I heard them. He knew I would have to take the elevator, which is louder and would have let him know when I was coming. That’s why he had time to get out the window before I got there. He was right there; if he hadn’t blocked the door I could have caught him.” She threw the pictures down on her desk. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered to herself, loud enough for only Ben, who was standing next to her, to hear. He shot her a sideways glance that was both understanding and amusement.
No one seemed to know what to say. Eventually the detectives dispersed, until only Rilynne and Ben remained. “He’s taunting me,” she finally broke the silence. “He knew I would hear him, which is why he blocked the door. Why else would he go back? He wants to prove he’s better than me.”
“Well, he has underestimated you then, hasn’t he.” Ben walked out of the room without waiting for her to respond.
Rilynne grabbed the photos of the fragment Ben had left, and studied them carefully. There had to be some kind of significance behind them. This had to have meant something to the killer, and if she could figure out what that was, then she would be one step closer to finding him.
She closed her eyes and thought hard about the fragment.
The sun was again shining brightly on her face. She opened her eyes to see the familiar black birds dancing circles above her. The sound of the water slapping the rocks was just out of sight. Her lips were so dry, and she was so thirsty that all she wanted to do was reach the water, but as hard as she tried, she could not make her body obey. Her eyes again were feeling heavy. Maybe just a little nap, she thought. But another voice in her mind was yelling at her to stay awake. Just a little longer, it was saying, just stay awake a little longer. Suddenly there was another sound coming through the trees. Is it an animal? No, the footsteps are too loud. I need to hide, the voice was now screaming, I can’t be found! Another sound accompanied the footprints: voices, a man and a woman. I need to yell, the voice pushed, but as hard as she tried, she could not make herself move or make a sound. As two dark figures appeared through the trees, her eyes could not stay open anymore. As they shut, she heard one last thing, a woman screaming.
A file dropped down on her desk, causing Rilynne to jump. Detective Butcher just gave her a hateful look before handing the files to the rest of the detectives. Rilynne opened the file to find the complete list of the homes that had been built in the woods. Although only a handful had basements listed, she knew she would have to check them all. This was going to be a long day.
“Of the twenty-eight homes we have within our search radius, two have basements listed on their blueprints, and another four have basements listed on real estate listings. There are also eight homes that have never been sold, so we could not get information on them other than what is listed with the tax office,” Butcher said as she walked to the board. “That also does not mean the homes that have sold have not built something onto the property since it changed hands last.”
That was only too true. There was a lot of privacy in the woods, and Rilynne was not positive what she had seen had been the basement of a house. It could have very well been an underground bunker of some kind. If that was the case, she knew they had very little chance of ever finding it.
By lunchtime, they had pulled the background checks on the majority of the property owners. So far, nothing was standing out. Several of the properties were used as rentals for campers, and two were listed as vacant properties owned by the bank due to foreclosures. Another home had burned down the previous summer and was in the process of being rebuilt. Rilynne flipped through the pictures of the homes they had, and sat aside the ones she knew could not have been the home. She had been able to eliminate half of the homes from the list, and the remaining ones she split between Matthews and herself. They were on the way out to start visiting them when Detective Wilcome rushed into the room, his cell phone pressed against the side of his head. The look on his face told Rilynne to stay where she was.
“Some hikers just found Derek Hartley in the woods,” his face was white, as if he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.
Rilynne dropped back into her chair. “It’s only the fourth day. We should have still had at least two days left before…”
“No,” he interrupted. “That’s… Derek Hartley is still alive.”
Chapter Nine
No one moved, or dared say anything for fear they had mistaken what their ears had just heard. When Detective Wilcome finished the call, he slowly sat down in his chair and let out a great sigh of relief. All eyes were still on him when he finally spoke again.
“This information does not leave this room. As far as the public is to know, hikers found the remains of Derek Hartley in the woods. I will be picking up Ms. Martin and taking her to the hospital. Jerkins and Evans, I want you to meet us there. Limited staff will be working on Mr. Hartley, and I want you to make it very clear that no one is to release his identity for his own protection. Matthews, Ochoa, and Butcher, I want you at the scene. Use scent dogs. I want to know where he came from. The perpetrator would not have let him go willingly, and with a fresh leg amputation, he would not have been able to make it far on his own. The rest of you, keep working on the interviews with the family members. If he didn’t get what he wanted from Mr. Hartley, he might have the urge to take another victim sooner than normal.”
Rilynne and Detective Jerkins rode silently to the hospital. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. Rilynne knew Derek Hartley had seen the perpetrator, and with any luck would be able to identify him. This could all be over by this time tomorrow.
She thought back to her last vision, though. He had been so weak that he could not move or talk. What kind of shape was he going to be in when they arrived?
That question was answered quickly when they arrived at the hospital. Detective Wilcome and Ms. Martin met them in the waiting room of the ICU. A doctor joined them just moments later. “Detective Wilcome, I’m Dr. Jordan Abrams. I have been taking care of our patient since he arrived this morning.”
“Thank you for your discretion Dr. Abrams. This is Ms. Emily Martin, the patient’s girlfriend. And these are detectives Evans and Jerkins. What can you tell us about his condition?”
“He has endured quite a lot, and his body is in shock. His right leg has been partially amputated, which led to an infection. He was also extremely dehydrated when he was brought in. He coded just after being brought in, but we were able to get him back quickly. Right now he’s in a coma, and I’m afraid I cannot tell you when, or even if he will wake up.”
Emily let out a deep sob, and collapsed into the chair behind her. Dr. Abrams motioned for an older nurse to come join them, and after introducing her to Detective Wilcome, instructed her to take Emily to see Derek Hartley.
“As you had requested, I had all of the clothes the patient was wearing bagged up for you. I have also talked to each member of the staff who is in contact with the patient, and informed them of the seriousness of keeping his identity hidden. Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked, handing Detective Wilcome the bag with Hartley’s clothes.
“Not right now. Thank you for all of your help. Please contact me if anything should change with his condition, or if anyone should show up asking about him.” When Dr. Abrams left, he turned towards Rilynne and Jerkins. “I want a list of every person who has been in contact with Mr. Hartley, or will be. I
want two officers posted at his door at all times, and get a crime scene tech down here to collect evidence off of the body.
“If Mr. Hartley escaped, then the killer would not have had time to clean the body. Something on him should tell us where he has been, and who has had him. If he can’t tell us who this guy is, maybe his body can. Have the crime scene tech run the evidence under a separate case number, and inform them not to tell anyone what it’s for. The fewer people who know about Mr. Hartley, the better.” Detective Wilcome handed the bag to Rilynne, and walked away.
Derek Hartley was in worse shape than Rilynne had imagined. She had expected the amputation, but it was clear he had spend at least two days out in the woods before being found. His hands and legs were raw from dragging himself across the ground. The parts of his body that had not been covered by his clothes were also extremely sun burned. The worst being his head, which had been shaven when he was abducted.
Ms. Martin refused to leave his side, even when the nurse told her visiting hours were over. Dr. Abrams was finally called in, and in the end, gave her permission to stay in the room with him. Rilynne had gone to her apartment to pack a few things for her so she wouldn’t have to leave.
Rilynne admired that level of dedication. She remembered how it felt to be so in love with someone that even the thought of losing them tore your insides apart. It was at the same time the best feeling, and the worse feeling you could have.