Missing

by Bill Noel

  I grabbed Charles’s arm. “Let’s get to Melinda’s.”

  CHAPTER 57

  HER APARTMENT WAS FEWER THAN SIX BLOCKS FROM Damian’s, but the drive took forever. Traffic was heavy, and more pedestrians clogged the street than usual. I told Charles what Damian had said about the green-haired old lady and Charles said for me to smack the horn and stomp on the gas.

  There were four vacant parking spaces in front of Melinda’s building, so I grabbed the one closest to the front door. I didn’t see a Crown Vic, but there were several hidden drives where he could have parked.

  Charles was out the door before the car stopped moving. I called for him to wait. He didn’t need to confront Damian alone. The corridor was eerily quiet. The only sound I heard was the squeaking floor boards as we ran to Melinda’s apartment. Charles stopped in front of the door, looked at me, and shrugged. I made a knocking motion with my hand. He looked at the door and then back at me and whispered, “that’s the best plan you have?”

  I nodded, and he moved his cane to his left hand and knocked with his right. There was no answer. He put his ear to the door and closed his eyes. He then turned to me and shook his head. I whispered for him to knock harder. He did, but the results were no better. Finally, he smacked the door twice with his cane and said, “Aunt M., are you there?”

  The door flung open. Charles lost his balance and tumbled backward. I ducked like I was afraid some projectile was headed toward my head. Melinda stood in the doorway with a two-foot-tall, iron table lamp in her hand. Its cord snaked behind her.

  “Thank God,” she said. “Thank God.” She sat the lamp on the floor in the hall and threw her arms around Charles and buried her face in his chest.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.”

  I picked up the lamp and ushered them into the apartment. I closed and locked the door. She slowly moved away from Charles and then lowered herself onto the couch. There were now five beer cans on the table.

  “He was here,” she said. “Damned Damian was here.”

  “Like in here?” asked Charles and pointed to the floor.

  She pointed to the door. “Out there. He knocked and knocked. I was so scared.”

  “How’d you know it was him?” I asked.

  “Didn’t at first. But whoever was making such a racket at the door wasn’t a Bible salesman. He pounded and pounded. I had the door locked and wasn’t about to open it. Damn, I was scared.”

  “If you didn’t open the door, how’d you know it was him?” asked Charles.

  “He pounded about four times, and then I heard him curse. I recognized his voice. He then left. I heard the floor creaking on his way out. And then I heard the heavy front door close.”

  “Aunt M., you didn’t go out there?” asked Charles.

  “Yes, sir, I did. I rounded up my courage and peeked out the door. The hall was empty, so I walked out to the front door. I didn’t get too close to the door, but I could see out those side windows enough to see him in that big old car. He figured I wasn’t home.”

  “Aunt M.,” said Charles as he shook his head, “you shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I’m old and dying. What could he do to me?”

  Charles put his arm around Melinda and squeezed. That’s when she began to cry.

  I went in the kitchen and brought her a bottle of water and then sat in the only chair in the room. Charles told her about Erica and how her clue had saved the young woman’s life. Melinda wiped away her tears and smiled when Charles repeated how Melinda was the only reason Erica was alive.

  My pulse was on the path to normal, and I rehashed what Erica had said. I remembered her comment not only about the green-haired old lady but also about the kid. It had to be Samuel—the only person who had actually seen Damian abduct one of the women.

  I stood and looked at Charles. “Call Heather and see if she’s close by and could stay with Melinda while we run an errand?”

  He looked at me like I was out of my gourd. “Errand?”

  “Umm, yeah,” I said. I didn’t want to alarm Melinda more, but I had a sinking feeling about Samuel. We needed to find him. Charles didn’t know what I was thinking, but my expression told him it was important. He looked at my pocket, and I took out my cell phone and handed it to him. He punched in Heather’s number. She answered on the second ring and told him she was on her way home and only a block away. She’d be here in seconds.

  I paced the floor until she arrived and thanked her for staying with Melinda. She said, “No problem. We’ll sit around and talk about Chucky when he was a toddler.” She then giggled.

  To her credit, so did Melinda.

  * * *

  Traffic had thinned some, and we made it to Samuel’s street in less than a minute.

  “Oh no,” said Charles as he pointed to the right side of the road. We were a block from Samuel’s modest home. There were two houses, two vacant lots, and one other house before Samuel’s. A gravel drive separated the two vacant, overgrown lots. A black Ford Crown Vic was backed into the drive. A porch light across the street was the only reason we saw the Ford. It could have belonged to anyone, but I knew better.

  I slowed as we passed the car but didn’t stop. Lights were on in Samuel’s living room. Someone was home.

  “Now what?” Charles asked as I parked on the street a half block from the house.

  If Damian was as erratic and hyper as Erica had described, we didn’t have time to think. He would have killed Melinda if she’d answered the door, and she hadn’t seen him abduct anyone. Samuel was in grave danger, and we couldn’t wait for the police.

  “We’ll figure it out as we go,” I said and then opened the door.

  Charles got out and carried his cane over his shoulder like a bat. It was one of the few times I wished I had a weapon more substantial than my arthritic hands.

  “Let’s call the police?” asked Charles. We were in front of Samuel’s house.

  “No time,” I said.

  Two windows faced the street. The illuminated living room was on the left. The dining room window on the right was dark. The living room window treatment was sheers rather than drapes, and I saw movement from the room. I stood to the side of the window and stooped low enough to see under the fabric.

  Samuel was in the upholstered chair that faced the sofa that I’d sat on when I had visited his dad. His arms were twisted in an awkward position, apparently bound behind the chair. He sat rigid, and his head was tilted to the left. His eyes were closed; his hair was matted down with sweat.

  Damian’s back was to me, and he paced back and forth in front of the teen. His black wig was crooked on his head, and he brandished long, black hair shears like a sword. I couldn’t hear everything he was saying, but he was yelling. I made out, “Why … open … big mouth?” and something about minding your own business. He then turned away from Samuel and yelled to no one in particular, “All I wanted … be nice to me. What was so hard about that?” Samuel opened his eyes and watched him pace. Damian had lost it.

  I leaned close to Charles and whispered for him to go around back. I said that when he heard me making a ruckus, he needed to get in the house any way he could. “Don’t dally,” I suggested—strongly.

  I gave Charles a couple of minutes to figure out how he would get in and then pounded on the front door. “Hey, Damian!” I yelled. “Come here.” I pounded again and again. I hoped it was enough noise to mask Charles’s breaking in, but I figured if I was any louder, everyone on the island would be stepping outside wondering who was going crazy.

  The door swung open, and Damian glared at me. Who was crazier, Damian or me? The look in his glassy eyes answered that question. He looked toward the street and stepped back out of my range. “Get in here,” he said through clenched teeth. He then rushed back to the chair where Samuel sat and pointed the shears at the trembling t
een.

  I was afraid that he would lash out and stab Samuel. I put my hands in front of me and said as calmly as I could. “It’s okay, Damian. I just want to talk.”

  The heat slapped me in the face as I stepped into the room.

  He put the shears at Samuel’s throat. “Shut the door,” he said.

  I looked at him and reached back and pushed the door closed. I leaned against the doorframe, as far away from Damian as I could get. I needed to calm him down before he hurt Samuel. The air conditioner roared but clearly was not providing cool air. Maybe the noise from the worthless machine combined with the ruckus I had made at the front door had masked the sounds of Charles breaking in.

  Damian faced me but held his arm back with the shears pointed at Samuel’s face. “Talk?” he growled. “You must be kidding. Talk about what?”

  I lowered my head. Hopefully he would see it as an acknowledgment of his dominance. “What did those women do? I know you’re a good guy. Melinda thinks the world of you. Those women must have been terribly cruel.” I nodded like I fully understood that he had to do something. “They must have been horrible.”

  He moved the shears from Samuel’s face and pointed it at the door. “Horrible? Yeah. Came in the shop, wanted to frou-frou their hair, flirted with me. I knew they wanted me. That Gildehous lady asked me to show her the island. She wanted to check out the bars. Even had me put a red streak in her hair—what does that tell you?”

  I had no clue but nodded. The more he talked the safer Samuel would be—I hoped.

  “I didn’t mean to kill her, you know.” The knife was back in Samuel’s face.

  Sweat rolled down my cheeks. My polo shirt stuck to my body. “What happened?” I asked.

  “We were in my sister’s car. I was showing her the county park out at the end of the island. The sun was going down behind us. She turned to look at the sunset, and I put my arm around her shoulder. Just put my arm around her shoulder. That’s all.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She screamed bloody murder!” he yelled. He then turned and slashed Samuel’s right ear.

  CHAPTER 58

  SAMUEL HOWLED AND TURNED HIS HEAD AWAY FROM the blades. Blood streamed down his cheek. I took two steps forward and calculated whether I could get to the slasher before he took the shears to Samuel again.

  Damian turned back toward me. He took a deep breath and then said. “I had to shut her up, didn’t I?”

  He appeared to have forgotten Samuel and acted like we were having a normal conversation. It was anything but.

  “What happened then?”

  “All I did was squeeze her neck. Wanted to stop her yelling.” He looked down at the floor and at the shears in his hand. “She stopped screaming,” he whispered. “She stopped.”

  “You buried her out where they were rebuilding that pier to the marsh?” I said.

  He laughed. “Yeah. What was I supposed to do with her?” His laughter stopped as quickly as it had started. “No one was supposed to find her. Nobody even knew she was here. Nobody would miss her.”

  Blood continued to run down the side of Samuel’s face and neck and mixed with perspiration. His breathing was labored, but his eyes were alert.

  “What about Nicole Sallee?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Such a sweet girl, so smart. She was a model, you know. She loved me working on her hair—came in twice the first week she was here. I asked her out. She didn’t know anyone. She said yes and wanted to see Folly from the ocean after dark. I had to steal a boat, but it was worth it.” He glanced at the ceiling and then back at me. “I thought it was.”

  “Didn’t turn out that way?” I said.

  Where was Charles?

  “How was I to know that she couldn’t swim—how?” He waved the shears at me but quickly returned them to Samuel. He was less than a foot from my friend’s throat. “All I did was reach out to kiss her. She pushed me. I had to stop her from making too much noise. We weren’t that far from shore. I shoved her. Her foot caught on the seat. She hit her head on the side and she fell out.” He slowly shook his head. “Maybe I should have tried harder to find her. It was dark, you know. It was pitch dark; no moon, no stars … no Nicole.” He stared at me, waiting for a sympathetic response.

  I saw movement from the kitchen but didn’t want to look.

  “I understand,” I said. “What about Corman-Eades?”

  He smiled. “She was a spry one, yes, she was. Bopped into the shop telling me about all the beauty pageants she’d won, how she’d run to Folly to ‘find herself,’ whatever that meant. I followed her to the beach and saw her swimming out where the dolphins were feeding. She was beautiful. I waited for her to get out and asked her if she wanted to get a drink.”

  I was getting used to his mood swings and wasn’t surprised when he gritted his teeth and then said. “She laughed at me, so I grabbed her and forced her into the car.” He hesitated and quickly turned to Samuel. “And this damned kid saw me. I didn’t see him, but when your buddy, Charles, started telling everyone on the island about it, I knew who it was.

  Damian stepped closer to Samuel and lifted the shears over his head. He stopped and abruptly turned toward the kitchen and saw Charles. Instead of going after him, he lunged at Samuel.

  I bolted toward Damian and grabbed his arm before the deadly shears slashed Samuel.

  Damian reached around with his free arm and hit my head. I stumbled on Samuel’s leg, and the two of us fell away from the chair. Damian pushed off the floor and tried to stand. I rammed my foot into his left ankle. He screamed and rolled away.

  Charles had pushed Samuel’s chair out of the way as Damian and I were rolling around on the floor. I grabbed a small wooden side table and shoved its leg into Damian’s stomach. I had given it my best shot, but the nearly four-decade age difference was in his favor. He stood, picked up the shears, and started toward the door.

  I was ten feet away when he reached for the knob. I used the couch to pull myself upright and then charged after him. Not one of my brighter moves.

  Damian had the door half-open, but instead of running out and easily winning a footrace, he turned and pointed his shears at me. Pure evil was in his eyes. Charles saw what had happened and came at Damian from the side. All the years I had known Charles, he had never seriously explained why he carried the wooden cane. He swung it at Damian’s hand, and I promised myself that I’d never ask him again.

  The cane hit Damian just above his wrist. He howled, and the black shears flew in the air. He turned back toward the door and started to run. Too late. I was close enough to get my arms around his middle and slammed him against the wall. This time I had leverage. He struggled but couldn’t break away. Charles grabbed his left arm and twisted it behind his back, and the two of us dragged him back into the living room and hurled him down on the couch.

  Charles then untied the rope holding Samuel’s hands. Samuel’s legs were wobbly, but he managed to stand. I asked him to call 911, and Charles got the rope and started tying Damian’s hands behind his back. I heard Samuel on the phone. He had trouble giving the address but got it right on the third try.

  Damian pushed himself up from the couch, but Charles tapped him on the head and said, “Don’t even think about it.” The killer’s wig had fallen off and was on the floor.

  I took my phone from my pocket and called Detective Burton. I gave him an abbreviated version of what had occurred and directions to Samuel’s. He said he’d be right over.

  It seemed like the entire Folly Beach police department arrived in minutes. Cindy and Officer O’Hara were the first through the door but were closely followed by Brian Newman and an officer I didn’t know. O’Hara slapped handcuffs on Damian and removed the rope that had been holding his hands. Cindy read him his rights.

  I flopped down in the chair that Samuel had been held captive in. Sa
muel sat at the kitchen table a few feet away. The bleeding had already stopped, but I asked Brian to call the EMTs to check him out. Samuel said he’d better call his dad at the Pig. Melinda would be worried, and I handed Charles the phone so he could call her.

  By now, the small living room was full. When Detective Burton arrived, he looked around and said to no one, “Am I late to the party?”

  I was beginning to like the grumpy detective—almost. Burton pointed to me, Charles, and Chief Newman and asked us join Samuel in the kitchen. He told Officer O’Hara to go ahead and take Damian into custody. Cindy said she would wait in the living room for Samuel’s dad and straighten things up. I looked back at the room. It looked like a tornado had stopped by for cocktails.

  Samuel told the detective how he had been home watching television when someone knocked. He had talked to his friend, Jason, earlier and expected him to stop by to work on a school project. He assumed it was Jason and said, “I nearly pissed in my pants when I saw that hairdresser standing there.” He said Damian pushed his way in, called Samuel a couple of names that he wasn’t going to repeat, and took the scissors from his pocket and stuck them in Samuel’s face.

  Samuel started shaking again. Where was the ambulance? He then said that the hairdresser accused him of causing all this trouble and said he would have to eliminate the problem. “I thought he was going to stab me to death right there and then. Instead, he had a rope and tied me to the chair.” He looked at Burton and then at me. “I don’t know why he didn’t kill me—except that he said the others were accidents and that he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer.”

  He would have fooled me, I thought.

  Burton asked Samuel a few more questions before Samuel’s dad burst into the room, looked around the table, and asked what happened. I told him that his son had been courageous and had helped the police solve the string of murders. Samuel said that his ear had a little cut on it and an ambulance was on the way to check him out.

  His dad pulled a chair up to the table and carefully removed the kitchen towel that Charles had wrapped around Samuel’s head. He inspected the gash and gave a sigh of relief. I told him that if Samuel hadn’t brought the abduction to my attention, we never would have caught the killer. Samuel beamed from ear to gashed ear.