by Lane Diamond
A minute later, Chief Radlon returned as the agent headed in the other direction. "Well, Tony, as long as you're here, we'd like to talk to you about a few things. Maybe you'll even learn a little more about what's going on. Please come with me."
He extended a hand and guided me down a hallway toward the back of the building, into a room with a small conference table and four chairs. A mirror covered much of one wall, with small speakers, possibly microphones, to the left and right.
My skin crawled a bit. I knew they'd considered me a suspect from the beginning of this mess.
He slid out a chair and motioned for me to sit, and headed back to the door. "I'll be right back, Tony. Would you like some coffee or a Pepsi?"
"Pepsi sounds good, thank you."
Five minutes later, he returned with the two FBI agents. Sergeant Harker came in with refreshments and immediately left again. The chief handed me a Pepsi and made introductions all around. Special Agent-in-Charge Arnie Jackson was black, fiftyish, balding and wearing glasses, thick but not fat, with a friendly smile and pronounced southern accent. Agent Linda Monroe was white, late twenties, with exceptional green eyes and a pleasant smile.
It was a good thing I hadn't yet tried to take down Norton. I'd planned to do something tonight, but things were definitely more complicated with the FBI here. Perhaps I'd hear, at any rate, that my efforts would be unnecessary. With the information I'd provided, they must have already latched onto Norton.
"Tony," the chief began, "let me start by saying that there's been more activity recently. Three more kids have gone missing: a boy named Dan Helton, another named Bobby Keller, and a girl named Jacque Fuller."
I knew Bobby and Jacque.
"In the case of the last two, they missed school on Monday, and there's no sign of Bobby's vehicle. Dan Helton was last seen leaving work on Sunday night, but his car remained abandoned in the parking lot where he works. That's what everyone knows at this point."
He paused and glanced at the FBI agents. Special Agent Jackson blinked in a kind of eye-nod, and the chief continued. "Since kidnappings and disappearances are the FBI's bailiwick, and since this case has grown considerably in scope, we've asked for their assistance. Before I turn it over to Special Agent Jackson, there's one more thing we need to do. Tony, because you're in a police station, and because an officer is questioning you regarding direct involvement in an open case, the law says I must advise you of your rights. Okay?"
"Okay." I tried not to let on, but this brought my nerves back into action.
He went on to explain my Miranda rights, remaining friendly and informal about it, though that did little to comfort me.
I sat through it and agreed to each part as he went along—about as enjoyable as having a tooth pulled. Despite my innocence, and the chief's nonchalant tone, my hands were sweating as if I'd just shot the president.
"Thanks for bearing with me through that, Tony. Now I'll turn it over to Special Agent Jackson."
"Thank you, Chief." He threaded his fingers together and placed his hands under his chin. "Tony, I'd like to walk through a couple things to get us started. First, do you know Dan Helton, eighteen years old, who works at the Eagle Foods of Crystal Lake?"
"No, I don't think so."
"How about Bobby Keller, seventeen, who goes to your high school?"
"Sure, I know Bobby, but not well. We were both on the basketball team, but I was varsity and he was JV—junior varsity. I didn't play with him much, just some practices, and I don't hang out with him away from the court."
"And Jacque Fuller, sixteen, also from your school?"
"Sure, she's Bobby's girlfriend, but I don't know her well."
"I see. Of course, your girlfriend, Diana, has been missing since Saturday night. That makes four missing persons in a short time, all kids, in a town where such matters are rare indeed. And your brother was killed the Saturday before, isn't that right?"
It still made my gut tremor every time I thought of it. "Yes."
"And you can think of no connection to this Dan Helton boy?"
"No sir."
"Is it possible that your girlfriend, Diana, knows any of those three other kids?"
I nodded. "Bobby and Jacque are in her grade, so I imagine she's had some classes with them and that she knows them a little better. As for the other guy, I doubt it."
"All right, let's talk about your whereabouts on Sunday night, and again on Monday night."
"Come on, are we going down this road again?"
"Which road is that, Mr. Hooper?"
All three of them watched me closely, as if waiting for some earth-shattering revelation.
"The road where everyone thinks I'm involved," I said too loudly. "Do you have any idea what Alex's death has done to me? Do have any idea how much I love Diana? I would have killed or died for Alex, given the opportunity, and I would do the same for Diana. I would never—could never—hurt them."
"That's most admirable, but you still haven't answered my original question. Where were you on Sunday and Monday nights?"
I sighed loudly. "I was home both nights. My dad can confirm that."
"And I understand you weren't in school Monday or Tuesday."
Not a question; it was more an accusation.
"My brother was buried Saturday afternoon, and then I found out Sunday that my girlfriend was missing. I was too upset to go to school. I spent most of those two days with Frank Willow. You can check that with him."
"Frank Willow?"
"He's an old man, kind of like a grandfather to us, who lives a short ways behind me."
"I see. We'll do that, and we'll check with your father as well."
"My dad doesn't know about me skipping school. Frank called in for me, playing my grandfather."
"Is that right?" Jackson looked at the chief, who tightened up his lips and subtly shook his head, as if to say, Don't ask, I'll tell you later.
"All right," Jackson said, "let's talk about this Mitchell character. Chief Radlon mentioned him briefly, but I believe we could all use an update. I think you should hear this too." He turned to the chief and nodded.
Chief Radlon sighed and returned the nod. "Right" he said, seeming none too happy about it. "First, his last name is Norton and he lives right here in Algonquin. I stopped by his house late this morning and spoke to him, and briefly to his mother. She appeared... I don't know... out of sorts. Mitchell remained steady throughout most of my questioning. He even offered—without my asking—to allow me to search the house. He was angry at the end, but that wouldn't be inconsistent with innocence."
He paused.
Across the table, both FBI agents zoomed in on me, as if waiting for me to react.
The chief continued. "I must admit, I found his offer unusual, but I took advantage of it and searched his home and the shed in his back yard. I wasn't as thorough as if I'd taken a team in there with a warrant, but I got a good look around. Despite Mr. Norton's odd behavior, and the fact that he became more resentful at the end, I found no evidence to suggest his involvement."
What are you saying? I can't believe this!
"Thank you, Chief Radlon," Jackson said. "Now, Tony, I'm sure you can see our dilemma. In our experience, family is almost always involved in—"
"You're out of your damned mind if you think I did this!" I leaned over the table, having almost jumped out of my chair. Every inch of me shook under a volcano of molten anger.
"Let us calm down, shall we?"
"Calm down? Is that a joke? What's wrong with you people? My brother is dead! And my girlfriend is missing! And you... you...." This was the part where, had this been a cartoon, my head would have exploded into a rainbow of confetti.
Jackson held up his hand to silence me, and leaned back in his chair. He looked at the chief, who seemed... well, I'd swear he was on my side.
Jackson sighed and said, "All right, then, let's talk about this Mitchell Norton. The chief has told us about your concerns regarding Norton,
but I think it would be best if we heard it directly from you."
I glanced at the chief, who smiled almost imperceptibly and nodded. I took a deep breath and tried to relax my shoulders, which felt like nine tons of concrete, and sat back.
I recounted the entire story for them exactly as I'd told the chief, but with a special emphasis on the coincidental nature of the two encounters. It would have been a hell of a lot easier if I could have told them about the hypnosis. I was so damned tempted to do so, but I couldn't betray Frank.
There had to be another way. They had to see the truth.
"It's just that he was in those places," I said, "watching us. What other reason could there be? I mean, I suppose one instance is nothing, but two? And there was something about the guy, especially the way he looked at Diana. He was creepy."
"I'm sure you know we can't arrest someone for being creepy," Jackson said.
"Yeah, I think I get that!" Geez, this guy is starting to get on my nerves! "But can't you question him? Intimidate him, like you're doing to me?"
He gave a slight smile, like a politician about to pick my pocket. "We don't mean to intimidate you, Mr. Hooper."
Sure, Dick Tracy, whatever you say.
"Let's step back for a moment," he said. "First, there is no current evidence to support the idea that your brother's murder and these disappearances are related. I believe the chief will concur with that."
Chief Radlon nodded.
Good grief, this is hardly rocket science. Why don't you understand?
"However," Jackson continued, "neither is there evidence to preclude such a possibility. Therefore, we will keep an open mind."
Geez, don't do me any favors, Deputy Dog!
"Tell me, Mr. Hooper, why do you think those events are related?"
"Are you kidding?" I ticked the reasons off on my fingers. "First, my little brother is murdered. A week later, my girlfriend disappears. Shortly thereafter, three more kids disappear. You don't find that too coincidental?"
Nobody answered. They just stared at me.
"Ah geez, we're back to me being a suspect. I can't believe this is happening."
"No one has been able to confirm an alibi for you on either of those two occasions, and you yourself said you were the last to see each of them. One problem: no one can confirm that you left them safely at home."
What could I say? I stared at him for a moment.
Then it occurred to me. "What about these last three disappearances? You will be able to confirm my alibis for those. Are you suggesting those are also coincidental to Alex and Diana? Do you think I'm responsible for killing the two people I love more than anyone in the world, and that someone else is responsible for the other three? All this in sleepy little Algonquin, where such things are—What were your words?—rare indeed? Is that what you're suggesting?"
Nothing terribly positive happened after that. They asked me if I could think of anyone who might want to hurt me by hurting those close to me. All I could say was that I didn't think so. Since I couldn't tell them about the hypnosis, I couldn't explain how I knew—I knew—that it must be Mitchell Norton.
If they wouldn't follow him, I would, and if he hadn't killed her already, he would lead me to Diana. He must. I was drowning here.
You must stay alive, Diana. Please, whatever it takes, just stay alive.
Chapter 51 – May 31, 1978: Mitchell Norton
I ate dinner with the family again, a nice break after nothing but sandwiches with Diana. I made up a story about the previous two days, telling them that Frankie Walters and I had this marathon Risk tournament in the works, and that we'd probably spend a few days finishing the games.
After a quick phone call, Frankie said he'd cover for me—so long as he didn't get too stoned to remember.
I called work and said I had to deal with a family emergency. Since I rarely asked for time off, my boss said he understood, and that he'd have his idiot son cover for me.
Just after six o'clock, I packed my supplies into the van, anxious to return to the shop. With the distraction of Chief Radlon's visit, I hadn't given adequate thought to Diana.
I would do that back at the shop.
I'd keep her foul mouth gagged so she couldn't light into me with more of that vile language. Such a display! I couldn't believe she'd fucked with me like that, but lying bound, gagged and naked for the last thirty hours had probably brought some sense to her. Come to think of it, thirty hours was a long time to hold it. She'd probably pissed all over herself.
It served her right.
I climbed into the van, but something about the chief's visit still bothered me. Why was I so nervous? Everything appeared normal around the neighborhood, but my sphincter puckered like a girl about to lose her virginity.
If the police were onto me, wouldn't they be watching me? I couldn't shake the feeling.
I stepped back inside, grabbed my dad's binoculars from the den, and ran upstairs to the attic. I crawled to the south window and looked down the street. Two blocks south, someone had parked an unusual car with tinted windows, and there was definite movement inside. The driver slouched down in the seat, as if that made him the fuckin' Invisible Man.
That car did not belong in this neighborhood—must be hard to hide a car where residents rarely parked on the road, especially when the entire street was only three blocks long. Officer Dumbass down there had almost pulled it off. Almost.
Shit, I'll have to figure out how to lose him before returning to the shop.
The east and west windows looked on other homes—nothing suspicious there. I crawled to the north window and looked toward Pioneer Road.
Another car sat there with someone inside, also slouched down in his seat, but definitely watching the house.
Wait one fuckin' minute! Isn't that...? Well, I'll be damned.
I'd have recognized that old Bonneville anywhere. The cops must not have known about him; they'd never allow such a thing. My nemesis had jumped into the game.
How did you find out about the game, Hooper?
Diana would clearly have to wait. Another phone call was in order, but I'd have to be careful; couldn't let on that I knew who Hooper was.
Fifteen minutes later, things were about to get interesting. If Officer Dumbass hadn't known that the chief was stopping by, he was gonna have a cow.
I stood on the lawn as he pulled into the driveway. "Thanks for coming by, Chief."
He popped the door open and grunted as he stood up. "You said you have some urgent news about the case?"
"Not exactly, but I wasn't sure how else to get you out here."
His eyes narrowed. "Excuse me? What's going on here, Mr. Norton? Are you looking for trouble?"
"Listen, if anyone should be upset, it should be me. Your visit earlier was bad enough, quite annoying in fact, but this is over the top."
"What are you talking about?"
Without looking, I pointed up the road and put on my best betrayed voice. "Come on, we both know I'm talking about your men watching me. Are they supposed to follow me wherever I go?"
I thought I'd played this right, pointing out Hooper without naming him. The chief must have been trying to figure out the plural "men" now.
"And which men are those, Mr. Norton?"
"Let's see, there's that black Chevy parked south a couple blocks...." I looked down the street to point it out, but it was gone.
"What Chevy is that?"
"What the hell? It was there, and I know it was a cop."
"I think you may be confused."
Bullshit!
He must have radioed Officer Dumbass after I'd phoned in. I hadn't seen the car leave, but I damn sure knew it didn't belong in this neighborhood, and someone had been inside.
"Well done," I said. "You got me on that one, but we still have the blue Pontiac on Pioneer Road. That old bucket of bolts is a nice touch, by the way—truly undercover. I probably wouldn't have thought much of it if it weren't for your man in the Chevy."
I held a hand up. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You don't know nothin' about that. What about the guy in the Pontiac?"
He looked north, and when he spotted the Bonneville, a strange look overtook his face.
This was my chance. "What's the matter, Chief, no response? Screw this shit!"
I darted toward Hooper's car before the chief could stop me.
"Wait one minute!"
"No chance," I yelled back as he followed me. "I've had enough of this harassment."
Nice indignation again, the Reaper said. Damn, you're getting good at this.
I approached the car, and the face of my nemesis.... How precious! He looked stunned, nervous and confused. He could only sit there and wait. Perfect.
The chief came fast on my heels and still yelled, but I ignored him and pressed on. When I got alongside the car, I smiled at Hooper. The look on his face was hilarious—like he'd tried to swallow an entire lemon. I'd have laughed my ass off if I hadn't been so fuckin' mad.
Radlon arrived three steps behind me.
"You're hiring them young, aren't you, Chief?"
He motioned for Hooper to get out of the car, and I waited for the whole thing to blow up in Hooper's face.
"Tony, what are you doing here?" The chief's voice dripped with disappointment. "I told you to leave it to us."
This was my chance. I yelled, "What? He's not a cop? Who the hell is this.... Wait a damn minute! Did you say Tony? That article I read about the Hooper kid—it said he had a brother named Tony and.... Are you kidding me? He's watching my house? This is Tony Hooper?"
"Calm down, Mr. Norton," the chief said. "I'll take care of this."
"Calm down? Bullshit! I want this guy arrested."
"That's quite amusing, Mitchell." A new voice—the quiet, confident voice of my nemesis—spoke.
He seemed way too calm for my tastes. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
The chief jumped in. "Look, I want you two to—"
"I know you recognize me, Mitchell, just as I know what you've done, even if Chief Radlon can't prove it yet."