Trapped (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 5)

by Becky Durfee

  “Well, if my visions are any explanation, he may have watched two of his siblings die here,” Jenny declared. She turned to Jessica before adding, “Actually, didn’t you say that the whole Davies family had died of illness? Wasn’t that why the house was vacant when the Civil War broke out?”

  Jessica covered her mouth with her hands and silently nodded.

  With her eyes scanning the crowd, Jenny said, “Then maybe Samuel did die as a child.”

  “Maybe,” Ingunn replied, “but maybe not. If the parents died, the surviving kids may have been sent to live with a relative. That would also cause the house to be empty.”

  “Would it also cause unrest?” Jenny felt a rock forming in the pit of her stomach. “I mean, losing half your family, including your parents…wouldn’t that be enough to upset your soul?”

  Ingunn remained emotionless as she noted, “You have to consider that dying from illness was not that uncommon in that era. If this couple had eight children who all survived into adulthood, that would have been amazing. So while I’m sure it was sad for Samuel to lose his parents and siblings, I don’t know if that alone would be reason enough for him to stick around for a hundred fifty years.”

  Jenny had to agree that a century and a half was a long time; something truly must have gone wrong in Samuel’s world if he was to linger that long. Eventually Jenny whispered, “I wonder what could be bothering him so badly.”

  Nobody knew the answer.

  “Thanks for agreeing to meet with us,” Jenny told Officer Howell in the interview room at the station. “I didn’t want to just leave the information on the tip line. It probably would have been thrown into the trash heap if anyone other than you heard it.”

  “No, thank you,” Officer Howell replied. “I am glad you’re willing to work with me. We may have never found those bodies without your intuition leading the way. We didn’t even realize anyone was missing.”

  Jenny assumed a sympathetic tone. “So what’s the body count up to now?”

  “Thirteen,” he replied. “All female.”

  Jenny looked at her lap. For a split second, she desperately hoped she was pregnant with a boy.

  “Have they identified them all?” Zack asked.

  “A few, and even those are tentative. Some of the victims had identification on their person, although with the advanced state of decay we’re going to have to wait for dental records or DNA analysis for confirmation. You would think that IDs in pockets would go with the bodies wearing them, but if someone is sick enough to kill women and dump them off the highway like trash, he might be willing to switch around some IDs to mess with people’s heads.”

  “He didn’t,” Ingunn announced, causing Officer Howell to look up with surprise. She elaborated, “He never intended for those women to be found. If he wanted to mess with people by putting IDs with bodies that didn’t match, he would have put the bodies in locations where they would have been found more easily.”

  Jenny got a kick out of her grandmother’s blunt demeanor, but she could see where others might have been less amused by it. She wondered what Officer Howell was thinking as he cleared his throat and said, “That’s our assumption as well, but we can never rely on assumption as fact. We still need to wait for confirmation.”

  Feeling the need to change the subject, Jenny added, “My grandmother and I both got the feeling that one of the truck stops off the highway may have something to do with this.”

  “Which one?” Officer Howell asked as he jotted down notes.

  “I can’t remember the name of it,” Jenny confessed, “but it was on the southwest corner.”

  “Dale’s,” Howell stated flatly as he wrote. As soon as he said it, Jenny remembered the name to be correct.

  “We were drawn to the back row in the parking lot,” Ingunn explained, “where a blue car was once parked.”

  After Officer Howell made a note of that, he looked up and said, “Do you know what happens at the back row of a truck stop?”

  Admittedly naïve about the ways of the world, Jenny replied, “No, I don’t.”

  “A lot of truck stops house prostitution rings, and Dale’s is no exception. These girls make their living by knocking on windows of trucks and providing their services to any drivers who want them. Generally speaking, the truckers who are looking for company,” he said with finger quotes, “park in the back row; it’s known as the party row.”

  “So these girls get into the trucks willingly,” Zack determined. “That would mean no big, noticeable scene with kicking and screaming as the girls get pulled against their will into a vehicle.”

  “Exactly,” Officer Howell said. “And these girls may get into as many as seven or eight different trucks in a night. It would be hard to tell which one was the culprit’s vehicle—if that’s even what we’re dealing with.”

  Jenny made a face as she considered that the women at Dale’s had more sex partners in a single night than she’d had in a lifetime.

  “And not only that,” Officer Howell continued, breaking Jenny away from her thought process, “but sometimes the girls get tired of where they are, so they agree to go off with these truckers and head to the next town. Essentially, if a girl gets into a cab and is never seen again, it’s no big deal.” He let out a disgruntled chuckle. “It happens all the time.”

  “Wow,” Jenny said. “These are the easiest victims in the world, aren’t they?”

  “Prostitutes often are,” Howell noted sadly. “And truck stop prostitutes are even easier. We’re trying to hurry up and get some IDs on these victims so we can contact family members. We want to know how long they’ve been missing and if they were runaways or addicts or what. If we can get an idea of where the victims had last been seen and when, maybe we can find some kind of pattern in the perpetrator’s travels. Unfortunately, this particular location makes it difficult to determine whether it was north and southbound travel or east and west. We’re right off 95, obviously, which would imply north and south, but with 85 and 64 being as close as they are, the girls can just as easily be from the west somewhere.”

  Howell continued, “If we had to guess, though, we would say that the culprit has ties to this area. You wouldn’t be able to find that dumping ground unless you knew where to look.”

  “And you wouldn’t get to that dumping ground in a big eighteen-wheeler, either,” Ingunn said with conviction. “But you could get there in a blue car, which is what our killer did.”

  Howell cocked a skeptical eyebrow at Ingunn, but he humored her theory nonetheless. “You’re saying it’s a blue car. Do you know what kind of car?”

  “A sedan,” she noted. “Not sure what type.”

  Jenny chimed in. “Another thing I will say is that my grandmother and I both felt no fear at the truck stop. Something terrible obviously happened to these girls, but we don’t think it happened there.”

  “So you think they may have gotten into the killer’s car at the truck stop only to be assaulted elsewhere?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you think they were assaulted at the dumping ground?” Howell posed.

  Jenny thought about that for a moment. “If I had to guess, I’d say no. I didn’t feel any fear there, either. I was drawn to that location, yes, but I think that was just because they wanted to be found. However,” she added, “I would like the chance to go back there with my grandmother. She’s never been at the scene, and she might pick up on something that I didn’t. We tried to go back there the day of the discovery, but we were not allowed to even drive down the street.”

  “Yeah, the whole area got cordoned off,” Howell said. “We weren’t sure how many bodies we were going to find. Or where.”

  “Could you possibly take us there?” Jenny asked.

  “I guess it can’t hurt,” Howell said. “Right now we have absolutely no suspects in mind. All we know is this guy travels a lot and has ties to the area, so that narrows it down to, what, about a thousand people?” He let out a fru
strated grunt as he looked back and forth between Jenny and Ingunn. “I guess I’ll get my coat.”

  Ingunn seemed undeterred by the brush that intermittently clogged the path before them. She marched along with purpose, arriving at the dump site with a furrowed brow. Ducking under the yellow crime scene tape she quickly noted, “No, there’s definitely no fear here.”

  Jenny had been thinking the same thing. She looked around, noticing all of the upturned ground, which made the area look very different than the last time she’d been there. Crews had obviously been searching the area with scrutiny.

  “This is a dumping ground and nothing more,” Ingunn proclaimed. She squinted with confusion before simply adding, “Huh.”

  “What is it, Amma?” Zack asked her.

  “Don’t know yet,” she replied, looking around intently as if trying to find something specific. She wandered off a few yards, away from the other three.

  “I’m getting that letter T again,” Jenny told Howell in a whisper, trying not to disrupt Ingunn’s train of thought. “This time I’m actually seeing it. It’s orange.”

  “University of Tennessee?” Zack asked.

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Howell agreed.

  Jenny made a face. “Is that their mascot?”

  “Their mascot? No,” Zack replied, “but it is their logo.”

  “Same difference,” Jenny whispered with a laugh. She then turned her attention to Ingunn, who still looked puzzled. “Is everything okay, Amma?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Ingunn said in a tone that brought a chill down Jenny’s spine.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She walked in one last slow circle before returning to the rest of the group. “There’s another victim.”

  “We’re not done canvassing the area,” Howell declared. “The crews have just worked out into a wider radius so we can’t see them right now, but believe me—they’re still looking.”

  Ingunn shook her head. “Don’t bother with that.”

  “Don’t bother with what?” Howell said with surprise.

  “Don’t bother with widening your radius.”

  The officer seemed confused. “But you just said there’s another victim.”

  “I know,” Ingunn announced, “and there is.” She looked up at Howell and placed her hands on her hips. “But she isn’t here.”

  Chapter 6

  “She isn’t here?” Howell looked dumbfounded. “What do you mean she isn’t here?”

  “She’s elsewhere,” Ingunn said calmly.

  “Elsewhere? Like fifty-yards-to-the-east elsewhere? Or like South Carolina elsewhere?”

  “She’s not here.” Ingunn gestured all around her. “Not in this area.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Howell whispered to himself. “Do you think there’s only one other victim?”

  “Only one that I’m being made aware of.”

  Howell looked at Jenny for an elaboration she couldn’t make; as a result she responded only with a shrug and a shake of her head.

  He turned back to Ingunn. “Do you know the name of this alleged victim we should be looking for elsewhere?”

  “No, not her name. But she’s fair.” Ingunn waved her hand in front of her face. “She’s got light hair and a pale complexion.”

  Howell slowly wiped both hands from his forehead to his chin. “You know what she looks like but you don’t know her name or where she is?”

  Ingunn shrugged. “I get what I get.”

  “Amma,” Jenny began, “you said you can summon the spirits. Do you think you can do that now? Maybe that can get us some answers.”

  With a shake of the head, Ingunn simply said, “Nope.”

  While amused by her grandmother’s bluntness again, Jenny didn’t laugh. “Do you mind if I ask why you can’t?”

  “I don’t have what I need.”

  “What do you need?”

  Ingunn looked squarely at Jenny. “Quiet—tranquility on a spiritual level—and I don’t have that here. I also need a possession of the deceased, or a photograph, and I don’t have those, either.”

  Jenny understood, at least the part about needing serenity. When there was too much excitement surrounding an area, she also had a difficult time sustaining a reading.

  “Would it help if we went somewhere else?” Howell asked. “I could potentially get my hands on a photograph of one of these girls for you.”

  “I doubt it. Usually when I can initiate a contact it’s because there’s only one spirit in an otherwise quiet space.” Ingunn looked around as if she could see things that weren’t there. “But in this case, there are too many victims occupying this one area. I’ll never be able to single anybody out well enough to establish a meaningful contact.”

  Jenny closed her eyes for a moment, knowing that this crowd of spirits continued to ‘occupy that one area’ because they couldn’t rest; their deaths had been too traumatic for them to be at peace with their fates and cross over. The notion made Jenny want to jump out of her own skin—as if dying in a horrific manner wasn’t bad enough, these women then had to endure years of unrest afterward. It was as if they’d been victimized twice.

  A shudder crept up her spine.

  Seeming a little more patient than he had been just seconds earlier, Howell reiterated, “Okay, so we’re dealing with at least one more victim, and she’s got a fair complexion?”

  With a single vigorous nod, Ingunn replied, “That’s right.”

  “We’ve been inundated at the station,” Howell confessed as he released a sigh. “Ever since this discovery has been made public, just about every family with a missing female has been calling and sending pictures, asking if their loved one was among the victims.”

  Inundated. The word made Jenny’s previous uneasiness even worse. There shouldn’t have been any missing women, let alone enough to cause the station to be inundated with phone calls.

  She placed her hand on her pregnant belly, her faith in humanity temporarily reduced to nothing.

  Howell continued, “We haven’t released any names yet; we’re still waiting on those positive identifications I talked about earlier. But we have requested the dental records of the women whose identifications were found at the scene. Sadly, though, there were more bodies than there were IDs. We are completely at a loss as to the identity of some of these women. And with the amount of decomposition their bodies have endured, the photographs their families send don’t do us any good. Of course, we don’t want to tell the families that. But I guess it’s good to know we should spend a little extra time looking at the pictures of the fair-complexioned women that come in.” Shaking his head, he addressed Ingunn one more time. “But you’re positive you have no idea where this last victim is?”

  “If I knew I’d tell you,” she replied assuredly. Once again, Jenny couldn’t help but smile at her curtness.

  The officer continued to speak, although he appeared to mostly be talking to himself. “There could be bodies all up and down this Goddamn highway. This might just be his Virginia dump site. He could have one in every state for all we know.”

  “Well, would it help if we got closer to the interstate?” Jenny posed. “Maybe there will be more clues at the truck stop.”

  “It can’t hurt, I guess,” Howell said as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll let you lead the way.”

  “It was here,” Ingunn informed Howell as she pointed to the same parking space they’d visited before. “A blue car in this spot will be helpful in the investigation.”

  The officer looked around and said, “Yeah, this is near the party row alright.” After a moment he added, “Don’t be obvious, but take a look at that guy in the Raiders jacket hanging out behind the building.”

  Jenny used just her eyes to glance behind Officer Howell at the man in question. He seemed to be studying their group, scrutinizing them so intently Jenny felt uncomfortable. She was glad to be in the presence of a cop.

  “What’s his deal
?” Zack posed.

  “That’s the pimp who works this stop,” Howell replied. “He goes by Adam X, with Adam and X both being street names for ecstasy. We’ve dealt with him more than once, for both prostitution and drugs.”

  “Do you think he had anything to do with this?” Jenny posed. “The killings, I mean?”

  “I don’t have a clue. We certainly can’t rule it out at this point.”

  “Should we ask him if any of his…girls…are missing?” Jenny asked.

  “His girls go missing all the time,” Howell explained. “They get into trucks and move on to another stop.”

  “Does he ever get mad about that?” Zack asked. “Maybe taking his anger out on some of the other prostitutes?”

  “Maybe,” Howell replied, “but I doubt it. For every prostitute that drives off with a trucker, another drives in with a trucker. He doesn’t particularly care about who any of these girls are; as long as he has some girls bringing in money, he doesn’t care which ones…or how they’re faring. I think the only thing that would make him upset would be if a john stiffed him some money or another pimp moved into his territory.” Howell glanced back in Adam X’s direction. “Or if I went over and started asking him questions.”

  Jenny’s shoulders sank. “I hadn’t thought of that. I guess he wouldn’t be that excited to talk to you about his…employees.”

  Turning back to the crowd, Howell confessed, “He wouldn’t say a word to the police, I guarantee it…even if he knew there were lives at stake.”

  A sickening blend of hate and anger began to rise to the surface of Jenny’s skin. Looking back at Adam X, who had since lost his fascination with her group and had gone about his business, Jenny wondered how someone could be so self-serving and callous. She felt the uncharacteristic urge to march over to him and slap him in the face.

  Zack’s voice put an end to her twisted thoughts. “Can you get a subpoena or anything and make him talk?”