A Dark Mind

by T. R. Ragan

  Sacramento

  Friday, June 1, 2012

  Lizzy’s eyes darted from one side of the street to the other as she drove. Her car window was half open. Ten seconds ago, she had seen Eli Simpson make a right on this very street.

  Where did he go?

  Watchful and alert, she drove down the quiet street with her window rolled down. It was late and it was dark. The air outside was brisk. The only sound was the slow grinding of tires against asphalt. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Unlike the street where she lived now, there were no street lamps on Bunker Street—no signs of life, for that matter. Most of the houses were dark, inside and out. There were a few cars parked in driveways, but that was it.

  Her hands held tight to the steering wheel.

  She finally spotted Eli’s truck, parked to the left, empty. He had to be around here somewhere. Yep, there he was. Two blocks down, a shadow of a man. So this was where he spent his nights. Although Eli Simpson had given her his cell phone number, he hadn’t answered any of her calls since she’d talked to him in the parking lot at the police station. She’d finally given up and driven to his house instead. No sooner had she turned onto his street than she had seen his truck pull out of the driveway. So she had done what any curious private eye would have. She had followed him.

  She didn’t know Eli, nor did she trust him, but there was something about him that made her believe his story. She had also run a quick search on Eli Simpson. His parents used to live in Lincoln, California. His mother had passed away recently from cancer. His parents’ house was sold, and Lizzy assumed Eli’s father had moved in with him at that time. Eli had two sisters. One was married with two kids and lived in Citrus Heights. The other sister had gone missing five years ago. There was no mention of her being murdered. No names had been cited in connection with her disappearance. In an article run in a local paper at the time of her disappearance, friends of Eli’s sister told reporters that Rochelle was friendly and outgoing, the type of person who would never hesitate to help someone out if she could. For that reason, they suspected she might have been abducted.

  Nice girls finished last.

  A few feet away, Lizzy saw Eli’s dark shadow. She pulled up to the curb next to him and shut off her lights. Eli Simpson was not a small man. He worked construction and it showed even beneath a dark hooded sweatshirt and denim.

  She hit a button and rolled down the window on the passenger side.

  He hesitated, but did finally come to the passenger side of her car and bend down so that he could pin her with a steely-eyed gaze.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “You wouldn’t answer my calls. What was I supposed to do?”

  “You were supposed to take a hint and leave me the hell alone.”

  “Yeah, well, there is that, but I don’t give up easily. Last time we talked, you seemed interested in having me help you.”

  “Changed my mind.” After a short pause he added, “I don’t think you should be here.”

  “I know you shouldn’t be here,” Lizzy said. “Get in the car. Please. We need to talk.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think you should be here. The man is dangerous.”

  “Are you worried about me, Simpson?”

  He said nothing.

  “Tell me something: Let’s pretend this man really did take your sister. If that were true, why would he take the risk of using your name on a workers’ compensation claim? Why take the added risk of being found out?”

  Both of Eli’s hands were on the frame of her car door, his forehead pressed against the top part of the window frame. “I told you the guy was fucked up. Fucked-up people don’t think logically. They just do.”

  “They just do what?”

  “They screw with people’s minds. Screw with people any way they can. A dozen people were shot and killed last month at a popular fast-food restaurant in Idaho.”

  “I heard.”

  “People sitting there having a bite to eat, everyone minding their own business, taking a break after a long day at work and school—families bringing their kids for a bit of fun. So some asshole comes in the place and blows their heads off. They didn’t have a chance. Evil never dies.”

  Chills raced up her spine. She pointed to the house she assumed he’d been watching when she drove up. “So, who is that guy? What’s his name?”

  A light went on in the house.

  They both watched as somebody moved around the front room. Eli’s gaze was intense as he observed every movement the shadow made.

  “Is that him? Is that your guy?”

  Without answering her question, he looked back at Lizzy. His eyes were filled with distrust. “How did you find me?”

  “I’ve been digging since I saw you last, looking up anything I could find regarding your missing sister—”

  “You followed me here.”

  She nodded.

  He arched a brow. “So you consider yourself to be the real deal?”

  She figured he was asking whether or not she was a real investigator, so she answered in the affirmative.

  “I already know you carry a gun.”

  “I do.”

  “Do you understand privacy rights—the difference between videotaping from the building across the street versus looking into someone’s front window?”

  She sighed. “I crossed the line. I’m sorry about that.”

  “I bet you’re only sorry you were caught.”

  “Not in this case,” she said. “If you hadn’t caught me, I would still be watching your father collect the mail every day—boring and a huge waste of time.”

  “Are you calling my father boring?”

  Before she could attempt to pull her foot out of her mouth, he said, “I bet you cross the line more often than you would care to admit.”

  “Truthfully,” she said, “I don’t think I cross it nearly often enough.”

  He smiled, realized he was doing so, and quickly put a stop to it.

  Lizzy was beginning to see that Eli Simpson was a lot of bark and not too much bite. She relaxed, but only a little. “So, how many of these people in the neighborhood have you talked to?”

  “I’ve knocked on every door dozens of times over the years. Only one person agreed to talk to me in all the years I’ve been coming here. By the time I convinced a detective to follow up, she recanted her story.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m guessing my guy, as you’re fond of calling him, had a chat with her, threatened to put an end to her Tuesday-night bingo or maybe kill her pet canary. Whatever it was, it worked.”

  “Not too much action around here, then?”

  “I don’t come here every night. I do have a business to run.”

  “Can I ask you for a favor?”

  “You can ask.”

  She reached into her glove compartment and pulled out a sleek little camera. “This beauty takes pictures, close up and far away, night and day. Since you’re here anyhow, could you try to get a picture of him?”

  “Of John Robinson?”

  “Is that his name?” Lizzy asked.

  “I thought you said you’ve been digging.”

  “Let’s just say I’ve been preoccupied. That’s why I followed you. I needed a name.”

  “Well, now you have one.”

  “So, you’ll take a picture if you get the chance?”

  He took the camera. “Digital?”

  She nodded.

  “I hope the pay is good.”

  “It depends on the quality of the picture.”

  “I was joking.”

  “I know.”

  “So, I guess this means we’re working together.”

  “I guess it does.”

  “What’s next?” he asked.

  “Do you know what John Robinson does for a living?”

  “He works for a small business downtown. He also buys nice clothes and drives a Camry. Every once in a while he has some wo
rk done in the house or in the backyard, which tells me he must be independently wealthy.”

  She gave the house and the neighborhood another fleeting look. “If that were true, why would he live here?”

  “Because monsters don’t just live in closets and caves; they live in dark scary houses on neglected streets like this one.”

  She looked more closely at Eli and asked, “Why is there a restraining order against you?”

  “Are you being nosy?”

  “We’re working together,” she said with a shrug. “I need to know who and what I’m dealing with.”

  He leaned his body closer, his face jutting in through her window.

  She stiffened as she watched him transform back to his intimidating self.

  “What you need to know,” he said, “is that you’re now working with one pissed-off motherfucker. I’ve done nothing wrong and yet the monster living in that house over there has managed to turn my entire family against me. Me,” he said with annoyed emphasis, his face a maze of angry lines. “The only guy in the world who seems to care enough to want to know what happened to Rochelle Simpson, my sister.”

  Silence hovered over them, thick and palpable. Lizzy remained silent.

  “Rochelle didn’t deserve to die.”

  It made Lizzy nervous, the way he kept talking about his sister being dead as if he truly knew that for a fact. Nobody could know whether or not a person was dead until a body was found.

  He pulled away, giving her some distance, and rested his arms against the window frame.

  She took a breath.

  “John Robinson wasn’t the first loser Rochelle brought home to meet the family,” Eli said. “She liked to make everybody’s day a little brighter. I wasn’t the only one who told her that one of these days her kindness was going to get the best of her, but I was definitely the last person to tell her so.”

  “Was she dating him?”

  His shoulders sank, not in defeat but in maddening resentment. It was obvious he was fighting to control his own monstrous demons, fighting to keep them tucked away somewhere inside him where they belonged. Finally he lifted his head, his jaw clenched as he said, “Nope. Never. Read my lips: she was just being nice.”

  “Did John Robinson think they were dating?”

  “Absolutely.”

  CHAPTER 21

  There is no happiness without tears, no life without death. Beware! I am going to make you cry!

  —Lucian Staniak

  Carmichael

  Saturday, June 2, 2012

  Lizzy hadn’t comprehended how much she missed Jared. And the funny thing was that at that very moment, she was sitting in the passenger seat of his car, admiring his hard jaw, handsome lips, regular chin, and nose. He was right there. If she reached out, she could touch him, yet she still missed him.

  “Thanks for coming with me,” she said. Lately he’d been away more than he’d been home. Long conversations were no longer the norm. They rarely had time to talk, which had led to a downward spiral in the intimacy department. She hadn’t helped matters by keeping the attack in the park from him. He felt betrayed, as if she didn’t trust him enough to tell him what had happened. Clearly, he was disappointed.

  Thirty-two years old and she’d never been in a long-term relationship before now. Maybe this was how the whole thing worked: incredible highs and depressing lows, inner turmoil, loud silence, hot sex, no sex, start over again.

  Although Jared had his own caseload to deal with, they were on their way to Michael and Jennifer Dalton’s house. Soon after Michael was arrested, his parents had moved into his house so they could take care of things like collecting mail and feeding the cat. They knew that Lizzy believed Michael was innocent, and since they wanted to help him, they agreed to let her look around. Mostly, Michael Dalton’s parents wanted their only son back home, where he belonged.

  “Anything new on the case you’re working on?” Lizzy asked.

  “The Lovebird Killer is doing a decent job of staying one step ahead of us, which tells me he’s a quiet man, living what appears to most to be a normal life.”

  “Haven’t most of the killings occurred in Sacramento?”

  Jared nodded. “I suspect the unsub is living in the area.”

  “What’s his MO?”

  “In three of the cases, including the most recent one, the female is taken first. Husband, boyfriend, or partner reports female missing, and within forty-eight hours husband disappears, too. Every police department within Sacramento County has been instructed to inform the FBI immediately of any missing person reported.”

  “Do you think he targets couples because of a relationship gone bad?”

  “I would guess that the unsub is lonely and has had continuous problems with lasting love. Maybe he doesn’t want others to have what he feels he’s been denied.”

  “Any suspects?”

  “Nobody specific. Caucasian. Single male. An introvert. A man in his thirties who likes to inflict pain because it makes him feel powerful and in control.”

  She reached a hand to Jared’s shoulder and squeezed. His muscles were tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away.”

  “Are you going to fight me on hiring security?”

  “No.”

  Following the navigator’s instructions, he took the next exit. A few minutes later, they arrived at their destination. Jared shut off the engine and then looked at Lizzy and said, “It’s going to be OK. Me, you, Hayley, life…everything is going to be OK.”

  Davis

  Saturday, June 2, 2012

  Before Jessica reached the entrance to Lizzy’s house, Hayley opened the door and said, “Lizzy and Jared left, let’s go.”

  Jessica made an about-face and limped back toward her car while Hayley locked up the house.

  “Something wrong?” Hayley asked as she caught up to her.

  “No.”

  “You’re usually all saccharine and gushy smiles.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re limping.”

  “I’m not as good at jumping fences as you are,” Jessica said. “Did you tell Lizzy what we did last night?”

  “No, she has enough problems right now.”

  “What did Jared say when he saw Lizzy’s face?”

  “He was upset with her. I have a feeling he’s going to be her shadow for a few days.”

  “What do you think is going on? Break-ins, car crashes, weird bugs left in her office, and then she’s attacked in the park. It’s like Spiderman all over again.”

  “She definitely attracts the weirdos,” Hayley said.

  Jessica looked from her left to her right and then over her shoulder.

  “What are you looking for, a hit man?”

  That was exactly what Jessica was afraid she might see: a giant of a man with bulky arms, hands the size of melons, and shiny metal teeth like the guy in the Bond movies.

  The man coming toward the model home last night had been scared off by the blaring sounds of the police sirens. When Jessica peered out the window again, both cars in the driveway across the street were gone. A few minutes after that, two patrol cars showed up. It took three uniformed officers only ten minutes to check out the house before they returned to their vehicles and drove away.

  “You need to settle down,” Hayley said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Easy for her to say. Was Magnus OK? Jessica wondered. Had he driven away in one of the cars? She wished she had given Magnus her number, because then he might call. If she could at least hear his voice, she would know he was alive.

  Jessica climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. It was Saturday. She should be sitting on a park bench reading a good book, or reorganizing her closet. Instead, she was headed for a strip joint with one of the surliest, most hardheaded people she’d ever met.

  Hayley was grateful for the quiet while they drove on Highway 50 toward Rancho Cordova. During her last visit to the same city, Hayley had shown Ade
le’s picture around, and it wasn’t long before she was told by a man working at a doughnut shop that Adele Hampton worked at Centerfold. He’d recognized Adele right away—not that the doughnut man ever went to Centerfold, of course, but because, apparently, as the man stated, “Adele was pregnant at the time and she really liked doughnuts.”

  When Hayley did a search on the Internet, sure enough, Adele’s photo had been listed on the Centerfold website, and she was scheduled to dance this afternoon.

  “Are you sure you only have to be eighteen to get into this place?”

  “Positive,” Hayley said. “They don’t serve alcohol. It’s just a bunch of half-naked women walking around selling lemonade and sandwiches.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to.”

  “I can handle it.”

  Hayley rolled the window down so she could get some air.

  “Can I ask you something?” Jessica asked.

  Hayley breathed in, filling her lungs with fresh air, before she said, “Sure.”

  “Have you ever really felt strongly about a guy, someone you just met? Someone you hardly even knew?”

  “You’re talking about Magnus, aren’t you?”

  Jessica kept her eyes on the road as she nodded.

  “You hardly know him and he’s obviously not the kind of character you want to get to know better.”

  Jessica sighed. “I keep telling myself it’s crazy, but I’m worried about him. What if they hurt him last night?”

  More silence.

  “What if there are bodies buried in that garage?”

  “Right now we need to stay away from that place and lie low. You could call the police again, but they’ve already been there once and I don’t think they’re going to start jackhammering the garage floor based on what little you saw. You never gave Magnus your number, right?”

  “No, but he did give me his number when we met in the coffee shop.”

  “The business card he gave you was a fake, by the way.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m telling you now. I called the number and it was disconnected. Then I did a quick search on the handyman business, and his name doesn’t exist. What did he tell you in the coffee shop? Was he expecting you to call him?”