by Becky Durfee
Two unsolved murders, both girls, ages 15 and 21.
Jenny paid for her meal with cash and walked slowly out the door. Once she exited the building and rounded the corner she immediately dialed Zack. “Holy shit,” Jenny exclaimed as soon as he picked up. “Are you kidding me?”
“I wouldn’t joke about this.”
“How long ago did these murders happen?”
“Three years ago,” he said. “They don’t know who did them, and nothing has happened since.”
Jenny opened her car door. “What happened? Were they strangled?”
“Sure were. They were both plucked off the street and their bodies were found a short time later.”
“Dear God,” Jenny started her car but then she realized she didn’t know where she was. To remain inconspicuous, she pulled out of the parking lot with the intent to only drive around the corner. “Were they together or were they separate incidents?”
“Separate. A few months apart. But that’s about all I know. I want to look into this more.”
“Are you home? Would it be okay if I swung by and looked with you?”
“My apartment’s a mess,” he confessed, “but you’re welcome to come by.”
“Why don’t you text me your address? I’ll be there as soon as I can, probably about a half an hour.”
“Half an hour? Where are you?”
Jenny was a little afraid to admit where she was. “Braddock.”
“Braddock? What are you doing there?”
“I was led here.”
Zack sighed impatiently. “Is that how you found out his name?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
Jenny recounted the story to Zack, who got somewhat angry. “You approached him? Are you crazy? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t know I was being led to him until it was too late,” Jenny protested. “Besides, we were in a public place, and I didn’t give him my real name. I was careful.”
“I still don’t like it,” Zack argued. “At all.”
“I’m sorry,” Jenny said. “Next time I’ll send you a text. Speaking of which, I need you to text me your address so I don’t have to just sit here in this parking lot forever.”
“Okay. Just give me a minute.” A few seconds later Jenny received Zack’s address and headed toward his apartment.
“I’ve done a little more research,” Zack said upon Jenny’s arrival. She sat next to him on the couch as he thumbed through some papers next to his laptop. His apartment was indeed a mess. “The first murder occurred in July, three years ago. Her name was Allison Pope, and she was fifteen. Apparently her mother was a single mom and was sick as a dog in the middle of the night, so Allison walked to a convenience store about a mile and a half away to get her some medicine. She made it there, but never made it home.”
Jenny shook her head.
Zack continued. “They didn’t find her body until a few weeks later, and with the heat of summer there had been a lot of decomposition. She was in a wooded area, so animals got at her too. There was little more than a skeleton, and an incomplete one at that. A broken bone in her neck indicated strangulation, but as far as evidence goes, there wasn’t a whole lot. At least none that was given to the press. From what I understand, they usually hold out on a few things so they know which confessions have merit.”
“I’ve heard that too,” Jenny said.
Zack flipped to another piece of paper. “The second murder happened in early November. Lashonda Williams was driving home from work late at night and got a flat tire. She called her roommate to come get her, but by the time the roommate got there Lashonda was gone. They found her body a few days later in a field. She’d been raped and strangled, but there was apparently no semen left at the scene.”
“Because he uses condoms,” Jenny said. “We knew that already.”
“And what I’ve found definitely aligns with the fact that our killer was a cop. It would make perfect sense that these girls would willingly get into his car—especially Lashonda. She must have already known about the first murder; I would imagine she would have been pretty careful about who she’d accept a ride from. But a cop…” Zack paused. “You won’t get a safer ride than that.”
Jenny thought about the fear those girls must have experienced when they realized their savior wasn’t what he’d seemed. How long did their terror last? Minutes? Hours? It must have felt like days. The notion caused her to shudder.
Zack’s words rescued Jenny from her thoughts. “I’ve also started looking to see if they had any suspects. So far as I can tell, they can’t come up with anyone who may have had a personal vendetta against Allison. She was an honor student who essentially kept to herself. Besides, nobody would have known she was going to be there at that hour, so they’ve pretty much concluded it had to be random. That means it could have been anybody.” Zack looked at Jenny. “I honestly doubt they’d suspect one of their own in a case like that. There’d be way too many other people to consider…for all they knew it could have been someone just driving through.”
“Even if they suspected Orlowski, do you think they would have gone public with that?”
“I doubt it. That’s probably the kind of thing they’d want to keep quiet unless they were positive.”
Jenny didn’t say anything, her mind consumed with thought. Zack looked up a few more articles on his computer until he found one he liked. “It says here that they aren’t sure the two cases are connected.” Interrupting himself, he scrolled up the page. “This article was written shortly after Lashonda was killed.” He found his previous spot on the page and continued. “The girls were different ages, different races…one was from Ivory Heights, the other was driving through town on her way home from work. With more than three months between them, they couldn’t eliminate the possibility of coincidence, or even copycat.”
Jenny grunted but remained otherwise silent.
Zack scanned the words of the article. “Lashonda did have an ex-boyfriend who came under fire. Seems he wanted her back but she wasn’t interested. Apparently he couldn’t let her go.” Zack mumbled as he quickly read through the details, summarizing when he was finished. “The ex was considered a viable suspect when this was written. It seems he didn’t have a good alibi for that night. He says he was home alone sleeping.”
“It’s possible at that hour. Didn’t you say it was late at night?”
Zack regarded his notes. “She was a bartender at a night club. She left the bar around 2:30 in the morning.”
“I’d be sleeping at that hour.”
“But it’s possible he was out killing his ex-girlfriend, too.” Zack leaned back against the couch. “You got any gut feelings about this one?”
“I don’t get gut feelings about any of them. I get visions when the victims are inclined to give them to me.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Unfortunately, I doubt I’ll get anything from a thousand miles away.”
Zack once again turned his attention to the computer, looking up more articles. Jenny curled her legs into her chest and rested her chin on her knee. Zack didn’t notice Jenny’s distance as she weighed the pros and cons of a plan she was considering. After a few moments, Jenny declared, “I’d like to go there.”
Zack removed his focus from the laptop and turned toward Jenny. “Go where? Ivory Heights?”
Jenny nodded. “I think it would be a good idea.”
“Do you think you would get good readings there?”
“Possibly,” Jenny said. “I’m not sure. But now would be a good time to go. I don’t think I’ll be able to get many decent readings here…not for the next few days, anyway. There’s too much excitement still.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “When I was trying to figure out what happened on Armistead Lane, it was like I was trying to tune into a radio station that had too much static. No matter how hard I tried to listen, I couldn’t make anything out. I know there was something being communicated, but the crowd gav
e too much interference. I won’t be dealing with that up in Connecticut. I imagine most people have largely forgotten the crimes. Well, maybe not forgotten them, but at least have gone on with their lives. I doubt we’ll encounter crowds of people at the crime scenes. If there is any message to be heard, I think I’ll have a much better shot at receiving it up there.”
“What if there’s not?”
Jenny shrugged. “Then we turn around and come home. By the time we get back, hopefully some of the excitement will have died down here and I’ll be able to get a better reading.”
“Fair enough,” Zack said with a smile.
“I’d like to go as soon as possible,” Jenny added. “I don’t want to waste any time. What’s the earliest we can get out of here?”
Zack immediately began searching for flights, and soon his smile turned into a grimace. “There are no flights into Hartford, but there’s one into Providence, Rhode Island at five thirty tomorrow morning.” He scratched his head. “Damn. That’s early.”
“Book it,” Jenny said decidedly. “That way we can spend the whole day there, and if nothing happens we can come back the day after.”
“But we’d have to be up at, like, two thirty in the morning.”
Jenny patted his leg. “Then you’d better get to bed. After you pack, of course.”
“It’s almost ten,” Zack noted. “That’s, like, four and a half hours of sleep.”
“Yup,” Jenny said standing up. “So are you going to drive to the airport or am I?”
“Actually, only four hours if you count packing time.”
“You know what? I’ll drive,” Jenny said as she headed toward the door. “You’re always late, and I don’t want to miss this flight.”
“I don’t function well if I don’t get enough sleep.”
“While you’re at it, can you book us a hotel in Ivory Heights for tomorrow night? Separate rooms, of course, but adjoining if you can arrange it.”
“We’ll need to stop for coffee.”
Jenny paused just before she reached the door and turned toward Zack. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Flight into Providence, five thirty, you’ll pick me up, I’m always late, hotel in Ivory Heights, separate but adjoining rooms.”
She looked at the goofy, adorable man on the couch and smiled. “Be ready at three. I’ll show up with coffee.”
“Black,” he replied. “At that hour I’ll need it.”
Chapter 6
Jenny sat across from Zack in a restaurant just over the Connecticut border as she referred to some notes she had written on the plane. “I was able to figure out where Lashonda Williams worked and where she lived, so I mapped out the route she most likely would have taken home. One of the articles said her car was found on Chamberlain Avenue, which appears to be a pretty major thoroughfare, and it’s right along the route I suspected she’d take. When her tire went flat she apparently pulled into a dollar store parking lot where she called her roommate. As you know that’s the last anyone heard from her. The roommate showed up and only her car was there. I’ve got the address of the dollar store already programmed into my phone. I figure it might be helpful to stop by there and see if I can get some kind of reading.”
“Wow,” Zack replied sipping his coffee. “You accomplished a lot while I was sleeping.”
“It wasn’t easy with you leaning on my shoulder,” Jenny said with a smile, “but I managed. Anyway, I also discovered her boyfriend’s name was Michael Boyd, and he apparently still lives in the area. While no charges have been filed, he’s been taking some heat in the court of public opinion. It seems the town is divided as to whether or not they think he did it. I’m hoping Lashonda will be able to answer that question for me.”
“That would suck if he didn’t do it,” Zack surmised. “Imagine living in a place where half the people think you’re a murderer.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here. We’ll hopefully either clear his name or help put him in jail.” Jenny tapped her pen on the table and referred to her notes. “I also found out what street Allison Pope lived on and what convenience store she was going to when she vanished. I mapped out her most likely route as well, but if she was on foot she may have taken some short cuts. I’ll have to see it for myself when we get there to see if that’s likely. But anyway, I’m having a tougher time determining if her family still lives there. I looked up the ownership history the house she lived in at the time of her disappearance, and her mother never owned it. She must have been renting, and I don’t know if she still is or not. I’m not even sure how I’d find that out, other than knocking on the door.”
At that point their food arrived. “Excellent,” Zack said to the waitress. “Thank you.” He turned his attention to Jenny. “You sure are thorough at five thirty in the morning.”
“I have to be,” Jenny said, spreading her napkin across her lap. “I feel like the clock’s ticking. I don’t know how long it will be before Orlowski strikes again. I can’t stand the thought of someone else getting attacked because I couldn’t work quickly enough. If I didn’t have to sleep at all I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” Zack said. “You’re doing the best you can, and that’s all anyone can ask. Besides, if that sick bastard does strike again, nobody in the world is going to blame you for it.”
“I will.” Jenny poked at her scrambled eggs with her fork. “I’ll always feel like there was something more I could have done.”
“You went to the police, said this is the man who did it, and they laughed at you. If anyone dropped the ball it’s them.”
Jenny shrugged but didn’t answer.
In an obvious attempt to change the subject, Zack posed, “So how did your husband take it when you told him you were coming here?”
Jenny made a guilty face. “I didn’t tell him. I left a note.”
“That sounds like something I would do,” Zack took a big bite of pancake.
“It wasn’t cowardice…necessarily,” she argued with a giggle. “It was consideration. He was asleep when I got home, and he was still asleep when I left. I didn’t want to wake him.”
“Has he tried calling you?”
Jenny checked her phone. “Nope.”
After an awkward silence, Zack said, “Forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds, here.” Jenny felt her blood run cold. “But I think you can do better than him. I know I’ve never met the guy, but from what I’ve seen and what you’ve said, I’m not impressed.”
Jenny hung her head. “I’m not either.” She took another drink of her coffee and said with renewed vigor, “So…where do you think we should start looking today?” Greg was not a topic she felt like discussing.
“At the police station.”
“The police station? What do you think we will find there?”
“No. Not find. Show. You should go to the police, show them your picture of Orlowski, and tell them your story. For all we know he may already be a suspect. And if he isn’t, I think these folks would find it very interesting that the murders followed him from Ivory Heights to Braddock.”
Jenny snorted. “I’m not sure I’m ready for ridicule again. I guess I was hoping to find out something more concrete before I went to the police.”
“What’s more concrete than Morgan Caldwell?”
Sadness crept into Jenny’s bones. “Nothing.”
With Zack a step behind, Jenny approached the desk at the Ivory Heights police department. “Hi,” she began apprehensively, “I’d like to speak to someone about the Allison Pope and Lashonda Williams cases. I may have some information.”
The young officer behind the desk got very wide eyes. “Hang on a second,” he said, disappearing through a door. After a moment he returned with a slightly overweight, gray-haired police officer who seemed much more sure of himself.
“Danny Fazzino,” the older gentleman said, extending his hand.
“I’m Jenny Watkins, and this is my friend Zack Larrabee.” T
ypical pleasantries followed.
“Please, come on back with me,” Officer Fazzino said as he opened the door he’d emerged from. “I’ll take your statements.”
Jenny and Zack silently followed Officer Fazzino into a small room, presumably designed for confessions. The officer took a seat on one side of a table, gesturing for Zack and Jenny to sit on the other. He wrote their names on paper, adding, “Do you mind if I record this interview?”
“Not at all,” Jenny replied.
The officer pressed a button on a recording device and stated the date and Zack and Jenny’s names. Then he said, “So what information do you have for me?”
Jenny let out a sigh. “I have the feeling I may know who killed Allison Pope. And maybe even Lashonda Williams.”
“And who do you suspect it was?”
Another sigh. “You may not want to hear this, but I believe it was Tom Orlowski. He used to be a police officer from Ivory Heights.”
“Yeah, I know who he is,” Officer Fazzino replied, eyeing Jenny suspiciously. “What makes you think he did it?”
Zack interrupted before Jenny had a chance to respond. “I can answer this one.” Jenny glanced over at Zack, and he smiled at her reassuringly. “She’s probably too modest to say so, but she’s a psychic. A good one. A few days ago she had a vision back in Georgia of a young woman being strangled. This was before she even knew anybody was missing. Come to find out a fifteen year old had been abducted and murdered a few towns over.”
Officer Fazzino’s face grew more serious.
Zack continued. “She painted the image of the man from her vision.” He turned to Jenny. “Show him the picture.” Jenny pulled the folded up picture out of her purse and showed it to the officer. “We found out later he was a cop in the same town as the murdered girl. We then determined he previously worked here, where two other girls had been murdered in a similar fashion. Now maybe that’s just a coincidence, but I think it’s worth looking into.”