Into the Dark

by Rick Mofina

“I’m going to let Detective Joe Tanner with the task force answer.”

  As Tanner took Bronson’s place at the podium he cleared his throat. Tanner had discussed strategies on how to communicate to the killer with the task force and his supervisors.

  In analyzing the letter, the earlier message, the crimes, the patterns and all the information they had so far, the FBI’s profilers had determined that the killer was above average intelligence with an enormous ego.

  “We invite you to contact us again,” Tanner said. “You’ve demonstrated your intelligence, talent and skill at getting our attention, and the attention of the world. Contact us again, let us help you bring this to an end without any more people getting hurt. Please.”

  37

  Maywood, California

  “Looks like a lot of people are attending this thing,” Robert said, scanning the vehicles in the lot, taking Claire’s hand as they walked to the entrance of the Maywood Gardens Community Center. He looked good in his navy suit, she thought. She wore a green mock-wrap dress that draped nicely around her figure, finishing with a pin at her waist.

  The stucco building sat between the chain-fenced yard of a transmission recycling shop and a line of small bungalows, circa World War Two. Music spilled from the hall as Claire struggled with Julie’s urging to use this evening to draw more information from Robert about his life with his first wife. Claire was unsure how she would do it.

  Inside, the crowded hall bunting and colored lights looped from the rafters and stretched the length of the main room. Music flowed from speakers suspended high on walls covered with blue and gold crepe-paper streamers. To one side there was a long table where servers navigated platters of food around people.

  On the main floor, twenty round tables covered with white tablecloths were arranged before a stage with a podium. It was flanked by tables adorned with flowers. Claire’s eyes widened slightly at the backdrop’s banner that read:

  Great Light and Hope Association Thanks Robert Bowen-A True American Hero!

  “They’re venerating you.” Claire nudged Robert, who took it all in without speaking. After several seconds, she added, “Let’s mingle and try to find Ruben.”

  As they worked their way through knots of conversations, people began recognizing Robert. Men slapped his back or shook his hand. When two pretty young women, their faces beaming, asked Robert to let them have their pictures taken with him, he obliged.

  Claire was proud of her husband, but her smile yielded to a sudden ripple of unease at the manner in which Robert had inserted himself in the middle of the women. It was the way he’d slid his hands around their waists and pulled them closer to him. For an instant Claire thought he’d gone beyond a normal pose. He brushed against the line of propriety with a motion so smooth, Claire thought it revealing. It was as if he were accustomed to putting his hands on other women and the way his fingers spider-walked along their sides as he gently squeezed…

  The way a shopper might check for quality.

  It was so swift, so subtle, Claire wondered if she’d misread it.

  “Claire! Robert! There you are!” Ruben Montero was battling his way to them, accompanied by several other people.

  “You remember my wife, Maria. Thank God, you met!” Ruben hugged Robert. Then Maria stepped forward.

  “My baby and I would not be here today, if not for you.” Maria flung her arms around Robert, as well.

  Acknowledging their gratitude, Robert introduced Claire before Ruben and his wife excused themselves.

  “My apologies, we have a few last-minute details to take care of before we get started,” Montero said. “We’ll join you at the guest table in a moment.” He turned to a man and woman waiting to meet Robert. “Let me introduce you to our senior board members, our president, Gloria Rosario, and our treasurer, Eddie Melendez.”

  “Welcome,” Gloria said. “We’re so happy you’ve come this evening.”

  “Thank you for being our guest of honor.” Eddie shook Robert’s hand. “Would you like something to drink?” He flagged one of the servers and ordered for the group.

  “As a pilot, you must see a lot of the world,” Eddie said.

  “I have, but not as much now that I fly corporate charter,” he said. “I’ll be flying to India next month and I’m going to Toronto in a few days.”

  “Canada? I’ve never been there but I hear it’s beautiful,” Eddie said.

  “It is. I lived there when I was first married,” Robert said.

  Canada? Claire threw a look to Robert, thinking it odd that he would mention any aspect of his time with Cynthia, especially socially. She couldn’t recall him ever saying he’d lived in Canada. This was a revelation. Their drinks arrived, diverting her attention.

  “So, Claire, are you Canadian?” Gloria, a retired school principal, asked.

  “No, but close,” Claire smiled. “I’m from Minnesota.”

  “Yes,” Robert interjected. “I was referring to my first wife-” then he slid his arm around Claire “-that was before we met.”

  “And,” Gloria asked Claire, “do you work outside the home?”

  “I’m a psychologist.’

  “A psychologist? That must be fascinating and challenging.”

  “Much like being a principal, I’m sure,” Claire replied.

  “Oh, goodness,” Gloria said, waving the air. “Don’t get me started.” Gloria took refuge in her sangria. “Do you have children, Claire?”

  The question resurrected a familiar hurt and Claire reached for her worn response.

  “Not yet, but we hope to,” she said, preparing for Gloria to do what most women did to her in this situation-secretly guess at her age and the time remaining on her biological clock. But Robert intervened.

  “We’re working on it. We love kids,” he said.

  The music stopped, a squeal of feedback pierced the air before the loudspeakers crackled.

  “Welcome to Great Light’s annual banquet!” a woman’s voice said to cheers. “Now, if everyone would please take their seats. The kitchen staff tells me that everything’s ready for us to begin.”

  After the food, the evening progressed with small speeches highlighting the charity’s work to help the underprivileged people of the community. They touched on reports on donations, bake sales, carnivals, scholarships, awards and future goals. Then the agenda moved to recognition of donors and volunteers before it was Ruben Montero’s turn at the podium.

  “Friends, members of the board, it gives me great pleasure to tell you about our guest of honor, Robert Bowen.”

  Ruben unfolded a sheet of paper.

  “But it’ll be hard for me to get through this without choking up.” Ruben cleared his throat, then recounted the events of the day and how Robert Bowen saved his family.

  Then Ruben folded his sheet, blinked away his tears and turned to Bowen and patted his shoulder.

  “Robert Bowen embodies the great light and hope that our organization represents and for that, it is our great, great pleasure to honor him tonight. Robert, please say a few words.”

  The room shook with applause that grew into a standing ovation as Ruben reached under the podium for a plaque to present Robert, who stood to join him as cameras flashed.

  Robert began by thanking Ruben and the association.

  “I really didn’t expect this, nor do I think I deserve it but I accept this gracious honor.” Robert passed his plaque to Claire before he resumed speaking. “In some small way each of us is called to help someone every day. We can be selfish when we get that call, or hardened by indifference, or paralyzed by fear. We must overcome the easy choice of doing nothing. You have to look inside yourself and determine how you will answer the call when faced with the temptation to turn your back, to let your heart go cold.”

  Robert paused, and, as some in the audience nodded in agreement, he took in the crowd. A long moment passed and he remained silent. The air became uncomfortable, people coughed and shifted in their seats.
>
  Ruben turned to his wife, then looked up at Robert as if wishing him to continue. Claire gently touched his arm and whispered, “Robert, are you okay?”

  Without looking at her, he nodded, letting another moment pass before he resumed.

  “Now each of us must ask, how will I answer the call to help? You must overcome the temptation to do nothing. We overcome it with action. That’s how we defeat it, that is how we find our humanity. That is our great light and that is our hope. Thank you.”

  People rose to their feet again and clapped. Some cheered and whistled. The overpowering sound made the hall vibrate. Ruben and Maria embraced Robert, and as the applause continued, they were joined by their son, Alex. Then someone brought Bonita, their baby daughter, to the podium and Maria passed her to Robert. Robert held her in his arms, smiled and waved to the audience. Again, cameras flashed throughout the hall, some people crowded before the stage to take better pictures.

  Standing next to Robert, seeing him holding Bonita during the deafening applause, Claire’s heart swelled.

  Her husband looked every bit the hero. He was a hero, and holding Bonita, he looked like a natural father.

  How can I justify any misgivings about him?

  Yet how could she dismiss them?

  Should she ignore the way he’d held the young women or his unusual remarks about evil, and the look on his face during his long awkward pause?

  He had been reveling in the silence, leaving Claire to wonder: Where did he go in that moment?

  38

  Los Angeles, California

  Robert and Claire drove home in the afterglow of the banquet and as they got on to the freeway, he glanced at her.

  “All in all that went pretty well, don’t you think?” he asked.

  “Yes, everyone was thrilled to have you there.”

  Claire’s tone dropped the temperature and Robert looked at her again.

  “What is it?”

  As hard as she tried, Claire could not stop her concerns and troubling questions from gnawing at her.

  “Are you happy you married me?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “Are you happy you married me?”

  After a moment he took her hand and squeezed it in his.

  “More than you’ll ever know.”

  Claire withdrew her hand and stared straight ahead.

  “Why are you keeping things from me, Robert?”

  “What things? What are you talking about?”

  “You never told me you’d lived in Canada with Cynthia.”

  “That’s what this is about? Claire, I did tell you that Cindy-”

  “Cindy? I’ve never heard you call her that before.”

  He exhaled and repositioned his grip on the wheel to remain calm.

  “Claire, I did tell you that my first wife and I lived in Canada. I told you that when we first met.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I did, and I also told you most of my life with her was miserable and I don’t like talking about it.” Robert paused to soften his voice. “Claire, meeting you was the greatest thing-the best thing-that ever happened to me. You’re everything I ever wanted.”

  She continued staring ahead at the freeway traffic.

  “Do you want us to have a baby, Robert?”

  “What?”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, I do. What kind of question is that? What’s troubling you?”

  “I’m angry.”

  “At what?”

  “Robert, I can’t help but feel that lately you haven’t been entirely honest with me. It’s like you’re keeping something from me.”

  “I don’t understand where this is coming from.”

  “You say you want a baby, but ever since Dr. LaRoy started us on this new treatment you’ve barely showed any interest. When I talk about the future, you shut me down. And recently, when I walked by your office, I thought I overheard you talking to Cynthia on the phone.”

  “We went over that, I was talking to a reporter.”

  “I also saw a snapshot that had fallen from somewhere onto your office floor. It was a picture of you with ‘Cindy’ during happier times by the mountains, but I shrugged it off.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  “Are you still in love with Cynthia?”

  “What? That’s so ridiculous. Why would you even ask that? The answer is no. She’s out of my life.”

  “What am I supposed to think, Robert?”

  “I can’t tell you what to think. But I’ll tell you what I think. I think it’s immature of you to eavesdrop and snoop in my office, but it’s our house so snoop and eavesdrop all you like. I’ve always told you I don’t like talking about my first marriage or my childhood. They were agonizing times for me.”

  “My childhood was no bed of roses.”

  “I know that, Claire.”

  “Getting people to talk about their pain is my job, Robert, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “I’m not one of your patients,” he said. “Tell me something, Claire. Why are you doing this? Why on this night?”

  She didn’t answer for several seconds.

  “Robert, I didn’t like the way you held those two young women who took their picture with you tonight. It was inappropriate.”

  Robert’s jaw tightened and he said nothing.

  “And that long pause you made during your acceptance speech was not only awkward, it was disturbing. What happened?”

  A tense moment passed before Robert answered.

  “Nothing happened. As for the women, I was posing for a photo. As for my speech, I was gathering my thoughts and pausing to make a point.”

  He looked away from her before continuing.

  “What is this, Claire? Is it a hormonal thing because of the treatment? Or are you spooked after dealing with that asshole in the parking lot? What about the burglary at your office? Maybe you should talk to somebody?”

  “Robert, you’re deflecting my concerns and you’re being cruel.”

  He shook his head bitterly.

  “You’ve accused me of a million crimes and I’m being cruel. Claire, I’ve always been there for you and I always try to help. You’re going through something. I don’t understand it but I’ll be there for you, because I love you and I vowed to stand by you.”

  Claire looked at him.

  The headlights of oncoming traffic brightened the interior, creating a web of dark shadows on his face, and she answered him softly.

  “It’s like a different side of you is emerging. It worries me, Robert.”

  He stared into traffic and didn’t speak another word for the rest of the evening. He slept on the sofa that night while Claire, alone in their bed, bit back tears until sleep finally came.

  39

  Downey and Commerce, California

  “So, can I go, Dad?”

  The question surprised Tanner.

  His thoughts had been buried deep in the case as he drove Samantha to school. He glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

  “Go where?”

  “Dad! Are you listening? Lindsay’s birthday party!”

  “Oh, right, sorry, honey.”

  “Aunt Kim said she would take me on Saturday. And today, after she gets me at school, we’re going to the mall to get Lindsay’s present, re-mem-burr?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Tanner brought their car to a stop in the drop-off zone at school. He put his holstered gun in the glove compartment, got out and helped Sam with her backpack. In the seconds he looked into her little face, he caught a glimpse of Becky and his heart warmed. “Love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you, too.”

  After watching his daughter head into the school, Tanner drove off with a load of guilt as he shoved any thoughts not connected to the case from his mind.

  Ever since they’d found the gruesome fingerprint message, proving that one killer was responsible for five cold case homicides, Tanner needed to ensure he hadn
’t missed anything, or overlooked a new angle. The monster having surfaced brought them a step closer to the suspect, but the pressure on the new task force to make an arrest was mounting.

  Will we stop him before he kills again?

  Tanner arrived at the bureau and checked the time. He had half an hour before the next case status meeting. Inside, he got a fresh coffee and set to work at his desk, following the same routine. He looked for any new leads or breaks and resumed examining the files. As he reread them for the thousandth time, something was materializing-something in a corner of his mind that had niggled at him the other night. He’d been drifting between sleep and consciousness when an idea took shape, but he couldn’t identify it.

  What the hell was it?

  Tanner was still concentrating on it when the status meeting began with FBI Special Agent Brad Knox saying that the task force had now received 323 tips from across the state and across the country. Police agencies everywhere were helping pursue each one. Even though most were vague, superficial or just plain weird, seasoned investigators knew that each one had to be cleared.

  “Here’s a sampling.” Knox presented the summary. “This is from Anaheim. ‘My neighbor talks to his dog and I overheard him confess to his Great Dane that he killed them girls.’ Then we have this from Texas, ‘A trucker in a bar in Fort Worth was bragging that he had all the information cops needed, but was waiting for them to post the right amount of reward money.’ Then we have this, an anonymous call to Bakersfield P.D.-‘This was channeled spiritually so receive it as you wish. The killer is Delbert Gill Gettysen, age forty-three, recently paroled from a prison in California after serving time for assaulting women. Gettysen told his parole officer that he was the Dark Wind Killer and was going to continue offing bitches.”

  Knox acknowledged that on the face of it, the tip was consistent with the pause from the time of the fifth victim to the killer’s communication.

  “We checked with parole and prison officials in California. Nothing surfaced for the name, variations of the name, the age, nothing. The call was from a public phone near a mall. Nearby security cameras were not working,” Knox said. “And, I should add, we were already involved in reviewing the status and whereabouts of known offenders.”