A Dark Mind

by T. R. Ragan

Jimmy reached over and picked up the phone, listened for a second, and then handed the receiver to Drew. Panicking, Drew dug into his pocket, deposited a few coins, and then frantically pushed the lever up and down.

  The phone was dead.

  Davis

  Saturday, June 9, 2012

  “We’ve been at this all night,” Lizzy said when she saw Jessica asleep on the couch. “Stacey probably needs to get home to her family. Let’s go over what we have so far and then reconvene—” Her phone rang, interrupting her announcement. She checked the ID and saw that it was Jimmy Martin. She hit Talk. “Hi, Jimmy. What’s going on?”

  “It’s not good, Lizzy. You might want to sit down.”

  She didn’t bother looking for a chair. “Out with it, Jimmy.”

  The tone of her voice was gruff enough to cause everybody in the room to look her way.

  “He’s got Jared.”

  “Who?”

  “The Lovebird Killer.”

  That didn’t make any sense. Jared was competent and smart. He carried a gun, for God’s sake. There was no way he would have walked off with a killer, but Jimmy wouldn’t screw around with her, wouldn’t call at all unless what he was telling her was the truth. “How?” she asked. “How could that happen?”

  “He was betrayed by Drew Scott. We have the man in custody. He helped the killer overpower Jared after being assured his wife would be spared if he did as the killer asked.”

  Lizzy did find a seat on the couch; she sank into the cushions and tried to wrap her mind around everything Jimmy was telling her. “Do we have any idea where he might be, any idea at all?”

  “No.”

  “Nobody saw a car leave?”

  “Drew was instructed to drive to a pay phone on Madison. Two of my men followed him. Jared had made contact minutes before. There was no reason to believe there was a problem. He did not sound as if he was under duress. He must have been overpowered soon after making contact.”

  “But how could the killer have gotten Jared out of the house without being seen by you and your men?”

  “There’s a greenbelt running through the backyard, behind the house. Jared was moved across more than ten acres of weeds in a wheelbarrow, probably to a car that was waiting. After the tracks in the field end, there are no trails. It was still dark and there are no witnesses so far.”

  Lizzy rubbed her temple and tried to remain calm. “I have my task force here, Jimmy. There’s been a lot going on these past few days. I’ve received strange calls. I wonder if there might possibly be a connection to the case you’re working on. I think you might want to come by the house so we can talk.”

  After Jimmy agreed to meet with her, Lizzy hung up the phone and looked toward the dining area, where Hayley and Stacey had been working all night long: making calls, taking notes, and searching for information on the Internet. Five minutes ago, Stacey had been getting ready to head home. Now her jacket was off and her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. She looked at Lizzy. “We’re going to find him.”

  Saturday, June 9, 2012

  Jared awoke with a pounding headache. Dazed and groggy from whatever had been shot into his bloodstream, he tried, unsuccessfully, to lift his head. He put a hand to his forehead, feeling strangely disconnected, as if he were floating. For the next ten minutes, he concentrated on his breathing until his surroundings became less hazy.

  He was inside a cage: a ten-by-ten cage with the same diamond mesh used as fencing around most sports fields. All four sides and the roof were made from the same material. Jared wasn’t sure how much time passed as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

  When he opened his eyes again, Jared heard someone moan. He was lying on a thin mattress with no blankets. He crawled off the mattress and used the diamond mesh to pull himself to his feet. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw that there were two cages in the room, only inches separating them. It took a moment to figure out what he was looking at. There was a woman in the cage next to him. She was lying faceup. She wore no clothing. Her long hair drifted over the edge of the mattress behind her head.

  “Kassie?” he called out, his voice raspy.

  Another moan.

  Jared looked around, his eyes settling on another woman, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. She had on a colorful dress, tights, and black heels. Her head rested to one side. A large hat made it impossible for him to see her face, but she had long auburn hair that fell across thin shoulders. “Hey!” Jared called out. “Wake up.”

  The woman in the chair didn’t move.

  The woman in the cage next to him moaned again, but his gaze was now focused on the wall of souvenirs: teeth, bones, fingers, and toes. Driver’s licenses and scalps with hair. Pushpins and nails had been used to hang jewelry, pictures, newspaper clippings, dried organs, and skin. If these were the doings of the Lovebird Killer, it appeared he’d killed many more people than they’d given him credit for.

  Jared felt for his gun. Of course it was gone. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. No cell phone or wallet. His gaze returned to the room he was being kept in. There was a desk pushed up against the souvenir wall. To his right was an old model television set atop a small table. Above the table was a shelf covered with jars of all sizes filled with what he assumed was formaldehyde, since the organs inside looked to be well preserved.

  “Leave me alone,” the woman in the cage cried. “Don’t touch me.”

  Jared returned his gaze to the woman in the other cage. “My name is Jared Shayne,” he told her, his voice calm. “I’m with the FBI. I’m not going to harm you.”

  The woman turned her head so that she could see him. Her eyes were wide and fearful. “Are you here to help me?”

  “If I can get out of this cage, I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  “I’m cold,” she said.

  “Can you move?”

  She nodded, and then winced in pain as she tried to climb off the mattress.

  Jared took off his jacket and then peeled off his shirt since his jacket was too thick to fit through the wire mesh. He rolled his long-sleeved button-down shirt into one long piece of fabric and began to snake the fabric through the wire mesh until the cotton fabric touched her cage.

  She saw what he was doing. It took her a while, but she managed to crawl across the cage floor, reach for the end of his shirt, and pull the fabric through. Upon closer view, Jared could see she’d been cut in more than one place. The incisions were neatly sewn, each stitch short and precise. One of the longer wounds across her collarbone looked red and swollen. He leaned close to the cage for a better look, and that’s when he saw movement beneath her flesh. “What the hell did he do to you?”

  Tears slid down both sides of her face as she struggled to slide her right arm into the sleeve of his shirt. There was nothing he could do to help her and it frustrated him. They needed to open the wound and get whatever the hell was crawling inside out of her.

  She looked at him and easily read his thoughts. “The stitching is small and precise and the wound hurts too much to touch. I can’t do anything about it.”

  Jared gritted his teeth. Stay calm. Find a way out. “Your husband reported you missing,” he said as he walked from one side of the cage to the other, pushing here, pulling there, checking for weak links.

  “Is he all right?”

  Jared climbed the cage to see if he could find a way to push through the top. The cage was made of galvanized steel and was wired together. He would need wire clippers. “Your husband is worried about you, but he’s fine. He won’t be harmed.”

  “How can you be sure? He got you, didn’t he?”

  “Apparently, the abductor wanted me instead of your husband.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  She crawled to her mattress and then propped herself up against the wire mesh, legs straight out as she buttoned the shirt. “Does the FBI know where we are?”

  “No.” If they did, Jared t
hought, they would have knocked down a few doors already.

  Jared gestured toward the woman in the corner. “Is she sleeping?”

  Kassie shrugged. “She hasn’t moved since I’ve been here. Wherever here is.”

  “Are we inside a house?”

  “I was locked inside a trunk on my ride here. I have no idea.”

  “We’re going to get out of here,” Jared assured her.

  Their gazes locked and she forced a tight smile. “I’m a big girl,” she said. “You can save the glass-is-half-full bullshit for somebody else.”

  “Sorry. You’re right.” Jared slid on his jacket. “Habit. I’m usually sitting on the other side of the table from the bad guy after he’s been caught, not before.”

  “No,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. You’re not the one to blame.” Her eyes probed his for answers. “Were you looking for this guy before I was kidnapped?”

  Jared nodded.

  “Who is he?”

  “He’s known as the Lovebird Killer. He seems to focus on couples, taking the female first, and within twenty-four hours, the husband or partner goes missing, too. As soon as your husband reported you missing, we went with a hunch. We talked to Drew, asked him to play it cool and take a trip to the market so I could climb in his car and get inside your garage unseen. The killer found a way to make contact with your husband and make a deal—me in exchange for your release.”

  “Oh, Drew,” she said.

  “He was desperate,” Jared said in her husband’s defense.

  “While I was in the trunk,” she said, “I kept track of how long it took to get here. It was no more than twenty minutes from my house to wherever we are.”

  Jared continued to examine the cage. He tried to lift one of the corners, but it wouldn’t budge. Metal clamps and concrete screws had been used to keep the cage in place.

  He opened and shut the porta potty, picked up the mattress, examining it closely, looking for something he might be able to use as a weapon. There were two water bottles and a granola bar next to his mattress. He looked inside Kassie’s cage, wondering whether she had water and food. He followed her gaze across the room, where he could see two full bottles on the ground and out of reach.

  “I lost my cool,” she told him. “I threw the water bottles at him; didn’t even take a good shot. At least I was able to stab him with a steak knife when he opened the trunk to get me out. I didn’t hit any major organs, but I tried.”

  Jared remembered seeing a steak knife on the floor of her kitchen. She must have dropped one and hidden the other as he dragged her out of the house. He squeezed one of his water bottles out of his cage and pushed it close enough to her cage that she could get to it.

  “Thanks.”

  Jared nodded.

  “I’m a child psychologist,” she said when Jared took a seat on the mattress. “Every day I talk to emotionally disturbed children, kids who have been verbally and physically abused. I try to convince them that everything will be OK. I tell them how brave they are and how sorry I am that these horrible things happened to them. I tell them they’re not alone and that I’ll do everything to help. But you know what? In the end, they really are alone. I’m not there in the middle of the night when they wake up in a cold sweat. Until now, I never really understood the true horrors of what some of those kids have been through.” She shook her head. “At the time, though, as I listened to their stories of horrific abuse, I really thought I understood. Nobody understands what another person has been through until they have walked in their shoes.” She sighed. “I’ve always been passionate about my work.” She winced in pain and clutched her stomach as if she were cramping. When she recovered, she said, “I realize now that I’m a fraud—nothing but an impostor.”

  Jared was about to try to comfort her when he heard a sound and saw the man’s giant booted feet descending a steep set of narrow wooden stairs.

  “Ah,” the man said as he finally stepped onto solid ground. “I see you two have become fast friends. Charming.”

  He focused on Kassie and shook his head. “Poor, stupid Drew. Do you think he’s still waiting for my call?”

  Jared didn’t take the bait. Neither did Kassie.

  “You gave her the clothes off your back, I see,” he said to Jared, then chuckled. “So gentlemanly of you.” As he continued to stare at Jared, his head cocked in a bizarre manner, his eyes widened. “You don’t appreciate a woman’s body?”

  “She was cold,” Jared said flatly.

  “Ah, silly me. Why didn’t I think of that?” The man rubbed his bald head as he looked around. “What do you think of my special place?”

  Silence.

  “Is that woman in the chair OK?” Jared asked.

  The man turned toward the woman in the corner of the room. “The nice FBI man wants to know if you’re OK.” He walked toward the woman, leaned over, and whispered into her ear. Then he put his ear to her mouth and nodded like she was whispering into his ear.

  He straightened and said, “She appreciates your concern, but she had a long day and she’s tired.”

  “Who is she?” Jared asked.

  “She’s the love of my life—my everything. She’s my Lizzy.”

  Jared tried to appear undisturbed by his answer, although he was anything but. By mentioning Lizzy’s name, this man was letting Jared know he knew intimate details of his life. Most killers liked to get a reaction, which was why Jared refused to give him one. “What’s her name?” Jared pressed on, wanting to know more about the woman in the chair. He couldn’t tell if she’d been drugged or if she was dead. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if she was real. She was sitting in the darkest corner of the room. She wore tights and gloves. A scarf covered her neck and a hat covered her face. Her head appeared to be resting on her shoulder as if she were sleeping.

  “She’ll tell you her name when she’s ready.” He rubbed his hands together. “I have a big day planned—there’s a lot to do.”

  Jared noticed that Kassie was now lying on the mattress, her body shaking. “Let Kassie go,” he said.

  The killer looked at Jared. “Your chivalry has no end. No wonder Lizzy is so drawn to you.” He crossed his arms. “Sorry, no can do. The woman stays. I have big plans for Kassie. Plans I have no intention of telling you. Show, don’t tell. That’s my new motto; do you like it?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he said, “Kassie is fully aware of what her fate will be.” He cupped a hand around his mouth as if he didn’t want the woman sitting in the chair to hear what he was about to say. “To be honest, I would tell you, but I can’t…not in front of my fiancée. She doesn’t like it when I bring other ladies home. She’s a jealous female,” he said with a wink.

  CHAPTER 28

  I was born with the devil in me. I could not help the fact that I was a murderer, no more than the poet can help the inspiration to sing…I was born with the evil one standing as my sponsor beside the bed where I was ushered into the world, and he has been with me since.

  —H.H. Holmes

  Davis

  Saturday, June 9, 2012

  It was seven o’clock on Saturday morning. They had been up all night. Jessica had dozed off for a few hours, but she was awake now and making a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen.

  Stacey had been making calls for hours. At 5:30 a.m., her assistant had personally delivered the transcript Stacey had been looking for, the story she’d been talking about. The embalmer couple who stuffed dead bodies with pine sawyer beetles. Sure enough, Karen and Todd Beck used to live at the same address in Lincoln where Lizzy had gone yesterday.

  Lizzy clicked shut her cell phone. “That was Jimmy,” she said. “The FBI talked to the Becks about a year ago. They searched the property and found nothing to tie them to the Lovebird Killer, but he’s agreed to take another look. They’re scouring the grounds in Lincoln now. The trees are infested with the beetles, but nobody appears to be home and they won’t be able to get inside the house until they have a warrant.”<
br />
  “You have to look at this,” Hayley said. “I found a listing for Beck’s Limousine Service. Could Jennifer have written Beck’s Limousine instead of Best?”

  “I’ll talk to Jimmy about that,” Lizzy said. “Have you learned anything about the Becks’ adopted son? Do we know where he is or what he’s doing?”

  “Robert Beck, who lived with quite a few families before he was adopted by the Becks, was eleven or twelve when he was taken in by the Hargroves. The Hargroves were the last foster family to take Robert in before he went to live with the Becks. I can’t find much information on Robert Beck, but when I searched the name “Hargrove” I learned that the Hargroves had taken in three boys and they all attended the same school. A boy named Robert was listed as a student of Maria Trumble. His age is consistent with Robert Beck’s age at the time. In a blog written by a teacher of that same name, she wrote a post about a boy in her class who once had extreme discipline problems. He’d been passed from foster home to foster home, but she believes he was finally adopted. She doesn’t mention a name, although he was only in her class for one year, which is consistent with my records of Robert Hargrove being at Twin Rivers Unified School District, where she still teaches. I have her home address if you need it.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Lizzy was in her car, headed for Maria Trumble’s house on Cottage Way in Sacramento. The traffic was heavy for a Saturday morning. Lizzy counted to ten, trying to keep her mind off Jared and what he must be going through.

  What if something happened to him?

  She couldn’t think that way. She couldn’t live without him.

  One. Two. Three…She counted all the way to Maria Trumble’s house.

  Cottage Way was a quiet street in Sacramento. The house was surrounded by colorful flower beds and a nicely manicured lawn. Lizzy parked at the curb and headed for the front door. There was a gray Prius in the driveway. It was early, but the only thing on Lizzy’s mind as she pushed the doorbell was finding Jared.

  Before she could hit the doorbell again, a gray-haired woman peeked through the living room curtain, then opened the front door a few inches, leaving the chain in place. “It’s Saturday and it’s early. Do I know you?”