by C. M. Sutter
“Good enough. The transfer is complete. Come on in and sit with me for a while.”
He opened the door fully and walked through. “I’ll get that IV bag disconnected. Did you watch your soaps?”
“Sure did, then I watched a crime show. I’m starting to get hungry, though. What time is it?”
“It’s after four o’clock. I’m going to start dinner soon. How about hot dogs and macaroni and cheese?”
“We’re running out of money, aren’t we? I’m sorry I’m too weak to work.”
Sam swatted the air as if to dismiss her comment. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. I have other ideas of how to support us. It’ll be fine.” He turned toward the door. “I’m going to start dinner, but do you need help getting to the bathroom first?”
“Please, if you don’t mind.”
Five minutes later, and after Sam helped her out of the bathroom, Adeline sat at the kitchen table in her wheelchair. Sam made a cup of tea and placed it in front of her. He began making dinner.
“So what did you do this afternoon?” she asked.
“I needed to find a new person to bring home. She’s sleeping it off in the workroom.”
“Sam, you’re going to get caught, and it just isn’t right.”
“As soon as the state health insurance accepts you, I’ll stop. The killing will end, and nobody will be the wiser. We’ll get back on our feet, I promise, even if it’s in an apartment.”
“What’s your plan?”
Sam stood at the stove and stirred the milk into the drained noodles. With the cheese powder package open, he sprinkled it over the saucepan and began stirring. The water rolled to a boil in the pan to his right, and he dropped four hot dogs into it.
“Sam, I asked you a question.”
“I’m still researching it but—”
“But what?”
“But there’s no reason to let the women die. I’ll keep them alive and sell their blood.”
“Are you crazy?”
“No, Mom, I’m not.” He tapped the spoon against the pan, turned the burner to low, and set the spoon on the counter. “I’ve researched this. There’s actually an enormous market for blood, especially Type O Positive, which is a universal donor.”
Adeline sipped her tea. “I imagine there is, but are you going to ask what blood type a person has before you snatch them? Plus, that’s a black market enterprise. How would you get involved in that to begin with? And how do you know it wouldn’t be a trap?”
“Like I said, I’m figuring it out, but I know one thing for sure. If there isn’t a body for the cops to find, I’m less likely to get caught.”
“So what are you saying? You’ll keep live women here in the house and harvest their blood?”
He pulled two plates from the cupboard, scooped up a heaping spoonful of macaroni and cheese, and placed it on the first plate with two hot dogs. He carried the plate to the table and set it in front of his mom. “We’ll see. I haven’t made a firm decision yet. Do you want me to cut the hot dogs for you?”
“I’ll cut them myself. I can still manage that.”
After dinner, Sam stacked the dishwasher and wiped the table. He checked the time on the microwave as he passed by. Adeline sat comfortably on the couch, watching TV, so she was set for a while. Sam had been home for several hours. From his calculations of how much GHB Molly had ingested, she should be waking up by now. He was sure he’d hear her screams soon enough.
“I’m going to check on our guest, Mom. I’ll be right back.”
Sam exited the kitchen through the laundry room and took the cement steps into the garage. He hit the light switch and crossed the garage to the workroom. With the junk gone and the walls well insulated, that room was used almost entirely for draining his victims’ blood, which would then be given to his mom.
The rusty hinges creaked as he opened the door and turned on the light. He stared at the table, where straps dangled near the floor on either side. It took a minute for Sam to compute what he was seeing. Had he really snatched a girl on the trails that day, or was he confused? What day of the week was it? There was no way in hell she could have escaped, yet she had. Molly was her name. He remembered that clearly now as he noticed two empty water bottles on the floor. Sam spun and looked at the chair in the corner. Her clothes and lime-green running shoes had been stacked there. Now they were gone. Only her underwear remained.
She had been there—he wasn’t imagining it—but somehow she’d gotten away.
Chapter 9
We had spent the latter part of the afternoon speaking to the deputies and the lieutenant at the sheriff’s department. Since we were in the vicinity, we wanted them aware of our involvement in the case. Nobody from the sheriff’s department had been called in on the murders, but they were well aware of the three young victims that had been found. They didn’t know any more about the murders than we already did. We left our contact information and took the lieutenant’s card.
I glanced at the sky as we climbed back into the cruiser. “It’s almost dark. Do you want to knock on a few doors before we call it a day?”
J.T. suggested we get the conversations with Corrine and Taylor’s folks out of the way and worry about knock and talks tomorrow. “Why don’t you call the numbers for the parents? Give them a heads-up that we’ll be there soon. Let’s begin with Corrine’s mom and dad and tell them to expect us in a half hour. Call Taylor’s folks too and set our appointment with them for six thirty. The families live how far apart?”
I opened the folder to double-check before I placed the first call. “The paperwork doesn’t say the distance from house to house, only dump site to dump site. I’ll check it on my phone.” I typed in the addresses and hit Enter. “Give me just a second while it’s thinking. Here we go. From Corrine’s house to Taylor’s is eleven miles. Looks like the best way to get there is on city streets. It’s going to take a half hour between houses.”
“Okay, set up Taylor’s for seven o’clock instead. I hope you don’t mind a late dinner.”
“Nope, it’s okay with me. Priorities first.” I called the number for Corrine’s mother. She answered on the third ring.
I heard her clear her throat before she spoke. “Hello.”
“Hello, this is FBI Agent Jade Monroe calling. Is this Claire Lionel?”
“Yes, it is. Why would an FBI agent be calling me?”
“Ma’am, my partner and I would like to conduct an interview with you and your husband about Corrine’s death. There seem to be similar murders in the Gary area, and we were brought in on the investigation. Were you aware of the other cases?”
“Nobody specifically told us about them. I did see something on the local news recently, but they didn’t go into detail.”
“Mrs. Lionel, it’s imperative that we speak to you tonight. We’d like to come by in a half hour. Will your husband be home to join in on the conversation?”
“One second, please.” I heard her blow her nose, then she came back to the phone. “Yes, he’s here. We’ll be expecting you soon.”
I stared at the blank screen on my phone.
J.T. turned his head. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I guess. She just hung up abruptly, and it kind of took me by surprise. Anyway, we’re good to go. I’ll call Taylor’s family now.”
I made the call, and they agreed to speak to us even though they said the detectives had already asked them plenty of questions. I assured Mrs. Dorsey there were always more questions that hadn’t been considered.
We reached the Lionel home a bit after five thirty. They lived on a city street typical of an older neighborhood of Gary. The houses appeared to be from the 1920s or so. They were all two-story, average-sized residences, each with five cements steps that led to the stoops. Other than the different shades of gray, green, and tan, each house looked the same.
J.T. parked in the narrow driveway, behind what was probably the family car, and we got out. The uneven, cracked sidewalk took us to the steps and up
to the stoop. I pressed the doorbell, and we waited. Footsteps sounded, and the porch light came on. A woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties pulled the curtain aside and peeked out.
From inside my coat, I pulled out the lanyard holding my badge. She nodded and came to the door.
“Mrs. Lionel, we’re Agents Monroe and Harper. It’s nice to meet you.”
She opened the door wide enough for us to slip through. “Please, come in, and you can call me Claire. My husband, Joe, is in the living room. Right this way.”
We followed her past the dinette and kitchen to the back of the house, where we entered a room that looked to be an addition. A fawn-colored pug lay at the feet of a man seated on a corduroy recliner in the corner of the room.
I smiled as I approached him and shook his hand. “May I?”
Mr. Lionel nodded. I knelt and petted the adorable pup. I wanted everyone, including the family dog, to feel comfortable with our presence.
“That’s Lucy,” he said.
“Well, hi, Lucy. You sure are a cutie.” I gave the dog a quick scratch behind the ear then pushed off my knee and stood.
“Please, agents, may I take your coats?”
I was happy to be wearing a blazer over my shoulder holster. I didn’t want anyone distracted by the sight of our guns. We handed our coats to Claire.
“Thank you,” I said as J.T. and I took seats on the couch. I waited for J.T.’s cue as I made small talk until Claire returned. When he pulled his notepad out from his inner pocket, I knew I would be asking the questions and he would be taking the notes. I was fine with that.
Claire picked up the dog and snuggled it against her side as she took a seat on an upholstered chair next to her husband.
I was sure the pup helped calm her nerves. “Shall we begin?”
Claire stole a glance at Joe. “Yes, I suppose.”
“First, we’d like to establish what Corrine’s daily routine was like, then we’ll move on to her work environment and finally her friends. Sound good?”
Joe grunted with a nod.
“Thank you. Instead of me asking every question about Corrine’s usual routine, why don’t you just give me your best recollection of how she went about her day?”
“Joe, do you want to start?” Claire asked.
He shook his head then tipped his chin at his wife. “You’d know more about her day-to-day activities than I would, so go ahead.”
Claire began. “Her normal workday at the lumberyard was from nine to five, Monday through Friday and two Saturdays a month. The hours were the same on Saturday except she was paid time and a half.”
I glanced at J.T. He nodded for Claire to continue.
“She usually was up and dressed by eight o’clock, had a bowl of cereal, and left the house at eight thirty. Her routine never varied unless there was bad weather, then she’d leave a little earlier. After work, she usually came right home, gabbed on the phone until dinnertime, then watched TV until she went to bed. Sometimes she would go out with her best friend, Mia, maybe to the movies or the mall.” Claire shrugged. “That was about it. She didn’t have a huge social network.”
J.T. flipped the page and continued writing.
“How far is the lumberyard from here?”
“Six miles, and it usually took her twenty minutes to get to work.”
“Did Corrine ever mention anyone at work that she didn’t like?”
“Sure, but we told all of this to the detectives.”
I smiled. “Sorry, but it’s important we know that too. All of the conversations aren’t necessarily documented on paper. Sometimes things slip by that we haven’t been told. Anyway, go ahead.”
“She said Bobby Lang was a creep. He flirted with her nonstop, and she didn’t feel comfortable around him.”
“Did Corrine tell her boss about it?”
“Bobby was the son of the owner.”
“I see. That had to be difficult. How long had she worked at the lumberyard?”
“Two years. There was only one other woman that worked there, the bookkeeper, and she was older. Corrine answered the phones. The only reason she stayed was because the job was easy, the location was convenient, and the pay was decent.” Claire paused for a moment. “Agents, she didn’t have a college degree. We couldn’t afford that kind of expense.”
“We understand, ma’am. So other than Bobby, she didn’t mention anyone else that she had issues with?”
“Nope, she never said.”
“Okay, let’s move on. You said Mia was her closest friend?”
“That’s right. They got together at least once a week. They were best friends in high school.”
“Do you know if Mia was interviewed?”
Claire gave Joe a questioning look.
He responded as he repositioned himself on the recliner. “The detectives said they were going to.”
“Sure. We’ll check into that. Did either of them ever show an interest in the occult, any type of cult culture like vampirism, sacrifices, that sort of thing? Did you ever hear any of that mentioned?”
“Oh my God, no. Is that even a possibility?” Tears sprang to Claire’s eyes.
“Nothing has been said, ma’am. We just need to cover all possibilities. Was Corrine on social media sites?”
“Yes, only Facebook, but we don’t have her log-in information.”
“Okay, we can investigate that. I think that’s it for now.” I looked at J.T. “Anything else you can think of?”
“That should do it.”
We both stood, and Claire went to get our coats.
“We appreciate your time,” I told Joe. I set two cards on the coffee table. “Please, if you think of anything else, give us a call. We’ll show ourselves out.”
We waited in the foyer as Claire gathered our coats. With our condolences and a handshake, J.T. and I walked out and took the sidewalk back to the car.
I clicked my seat belt as J.T. backed out of the driveway. “What do you make of the Bobby Lang thing? That wasn’t in the police report. I wonder if the PD had the tech department check out Corrine’s social media page. That wasn’t noted, either.”
“Don’t know, but we’ll find that out tomorrow. Let’s move on to Taylor Dorsey’s house.”
Chapter 10
Sam was in a near panic. He had no idea how or when Molly had escaped, but it couldn’t have been long ago. She would have been too groggy and unable to comprehend what was going on. She couldn’t have gone far in that condition.
How in the hell did she get out of those restraints? They mustn’t have been tight enough. I have to find her, and quick, before somebody else does.
He searched the garage in a frenzy, looking in and under the van, in the storage cabinets, and behind the stacked boxes along the wall. He raked his hair as he checked every nook and cranny. A cold breeze swirled in and engulfed the garage. He turned and noticed the door that led to the side yard was ajar. Sam smashed his fist against the wall and bloodied his knuckles. It was his fault he’d trusted the restraints while Molly slept off the GHB. He should have locked her in the workroom.
Sam slammed the garage door and stomped into the kitchen.
“What in the world?” Adeline called out. Sam glanced quickly into the living room, where his mother craned her neck and looked at him.
He began pulling out kitchen drawers. “I need the flashlight, Mom. Where is it?”
“It’s under the sink. Why? What happened?”
“The girl got away, and I have to find her fast. She couldn’t have gotten too far.”
Sam grabbed his jacket and ran out into the dark. From the side of the house where the door opened off the garage, Molly could have taken to the street or headed into the woods. Luckily, the five-acre parcel at the end of the cul-de-sac, with no neighbors nearby, afforded Sam some much-needed time. The home sat on the edge of Gary before the countryside took over. The closest neighbors in any direction lived five minutes away by car. Since Molly was impaired a
nd stumbling through the dark, that could add another twenty minutes to her getaway time. Molly wasn’t wearing a coat, either. She’d chill quickly in the nighttime temperature, which had dropped to twenty-two degrees.
Sam spun on his heels and ran back inside. He grabbed the van keys off the hook, climbed in the van, raised the overhead garage door, and backed down the driveway. Driving would make his search along the road that much faster. If he didn’t find her wandering the street, he would head into the woods on foot. Frightened and unfamiliar with the area, she would probably try the street first, he assumed. Luckily for him, the night was pitch-black, and his road didn’t have street lamps.
He drove slowly with the high beams illuminated. Sam craned his neck to the left, then to the right, while he searched the shoulders and ditches along the quiet road. He drove west to the stop sign at the next intersection. He was more than a mile from his house, and he was certain she couldn’t have gotten that far. He pounded the steering wheel and pulled a U-turn at the intersection. Then he headed in the other direction. By the time he reached his house, he hadn’t seen any movement along the road. He continued on, this time driving east. At the half-mile mark, he spotted something ahead on his right. It could have been any type of nocturnal animal except this one was stumbling in the fresh snow cover and wearing a stretchy purple jogging suit. Sam slammed on the brakes and jammed the shifter into Park. He jumped out, rounded the van, and slid the door open on the passenger side. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
The sight of him sent Molly scrambling into the woods. He went after her. They both knew she didn’t stand a chance. She screamed for help while lumbering through the slippery snow. Sam was on Molly in seconds and grabbed her by the waist as she kicked and scratched, sending them both sliding into the ditch. As hard as she fought, getting her to the van was nearly impossible—he had to silence her. With a swift blow to the back of her head, he knocked her senseless and threw her into the van.
Within ten minutes, he had her nude body strapped down tightly this time. Sam shook with the chill of wet clothes and anger. Molly would learn her lesson this time—no mercy and no sedative. He’d drain her blood while she was fully awake.