by Becky Durfee
Jenny remained quiet as Zack searched. After a few moments she posed, “Even if it was cloudy, wouldn’t the light of the moon shine through? I would think I’d have been able to see something if the attack happened outside.”
“We may have to go with that theory,” Zack surmised. “I’m not having any luck finding out what the weather was that night.”
“And with the clanking sound,” Jenny went on. “You’re right. It sounded like the ring hit something metal. Maybe I was in a basement? That would explain the darkness, and there are always pipes and furnaces and stuff in basements.”
Zack shrugged and nodded. “Could be.” After taking a bite of his breakfast, Zack continued to search the computer. “Let me just take a look at what’s happening down in Braddock. Maybe there are some new developments.” A few moments later, he sat back in his chair and said, “Holy shit.”
“What is it?”
“See for yourself.” Zack spun the laptop around so Jenny could see the screen. She saw a mug shot of a baby-faced, brown-eyed young man who looked like a deer in headlights. The headline next to the picture said, in very large print, “Arrest made in Caldwell case.”
Chapter 11
“What!?!” Jenny exclaimed louder than she had intended. The smattering of people in the dining room looked her way. She lowered her tone and added, “That can’t be right.”
“Let’s see what it says,” Zack replied as he turned the computer back to face him. He began to read. “Jeremy Stotler, 18, of 56 Hancock Drive in Braddock was arrested and charged with the kidnapping, rape and murder of fifteen-year-old Morgan Caldwell. Stotler is a senior at Monroe High School, the same school where Morgan had been a sophomore...”
Jenny shook her head in disbelief. “What proof could they have had?”
Zack scanned the article, noting “Cell phone records show she had plans to meet up with him in the middle of the night that night, and his DNA was apparently left at the scene.”
“That’s impossible,” Jenny declared angrily. “He wasn’t at the scene.”
Shrugging, Zack said, “I’m just telling you what the article says.”
“Cell phone records,” Jenny muttered out loud. “I bet I know who found her cell phone.”
Zack continued to convey the story. “Apparently this Stotler kid originally said he didn’t see Morgan that night, and then he changed his story saying he did.” Zack’s eyes met Jenny’s. “That probably screwed him.”
Jenny rubbed her face with her hands. With a sigh she added, “This is horrible.” She heard Zack’s fingers typing, prompting her to ask, “What are you doing now?”
“Give me a second,” he replied. A moment later, he added, “Yup. Just as I thought.”
“What?”
“Well, clearly Morgan snuck out that night, and I figured maybe she walked to this Stotler kid’s house, picked up a sample of his DNA—if you know what I mean—and then encountered Orlowski on her way home. And take a look.” Zack spun the computer around so Jenny could see the screen, revealing a road map of Morgan’s neighborhood. “The article said Jeremy Stotler lives on Hancock Drive. If you trace out the path she would have taken home from Hancock Drive, it would put her right on Armistead Lane, the place where you had that funny feeling that something had happened.”
Jenny processed the information, trying to make sense of the swirls that occupied her mind. “Orlowski used a condom,” she eventually whispered. “Apparently Jeremy Stotler didn’t.”
A long and painful silence followed. Pushing her half-eaten plate to the center of the table and leaning back in her chair, Jenny asked, “What time is the next flight back to Georgia?”
“You want to go back already?”
Jenny nodded.
After a moment of searching, Zack said, “There’s a flight later tonight. It takes off at 7:30.”
“That would be great, actually. That will give us some time to talk to Fazzino again today, letting him know what we’ve come up with. Then we can get back down to Braddock and make sure that poor kid doesn’t spend any more time in jail than he needs to.”
“Do you think that’s the place we’ll be the most effective? You don’t think we stand a better chance here?” Zack, whose appetite remained unaffected by Jeremy Stotler’s incarceration, took a bite of a muffin and added, “I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m genuinely asking where you think we’d be better off.”
Jenny shook her head with disgust; the pathetic look on Jeremy Stotler’s face had disturbed her deeply. “I don’t know the answer to that. I guess we should hit the pavement hard today, gather as much information as we can up here in Connecticut, and then head back to Georgia tonight. And we’d better pray to God that Morgan has the strength to give me some more clues when we get there. Who knows how long it will be before Orlowski strikes again?”
At the police station, Officer Fazzino reviewed his notes. “So you think the attack happened indoors, and Lashonda left her ring behind?”
“Yes, sir,” Jenny replied. “I don’t think Orlowski knew what she’d done. The ring is possibly still there.”
“Well, he didn’t know what she had done at the time,” Fazzino added. “But that missing ring was all over the news. I’m sure he was able to figure out what that clanking sound had been. It’s quite possible he went back and got the ring the next day.”
Jenny’s shoulders slumped. She hadn’t considered that scenario. “I guess that’s why you’re the detective.”
With a smile Fazzino added, “So tell me a little more about this arrest in Georgia.”
This time Zack spoke. “It appears Morgan made midnight plans with this Jeremy Stotler kid through messages on her cell phone. At first he denied meeting up with her, but he had left a little calling card behind, if you know what I mean.”
Jenny rolled her eyes.
“I’m guessing you mean semen,” Fazzino said flatly.
“Exactly,” Zack replied. “Now Jenny clearly recalls Orlowski using a condom, so none of Orlowski’s…semen…would be present. But what the cops are looking at down there is a body that had been raped and strangled, coupled with the semen of a boy who denied seeing her that night. I can see why they’d jump to the conclusion that Stotler did it…especially since there’s probably a ton of pressure from the public for this case to be solved quickly.”
“And you’ve also got Orlowski on the inside making sure the evidence points squarely at Jeremy Stotler,” Jenny noted. “Is there any way you can call them up and tell them they have the wrong person?”
Fazzino let out a chuckle. “Unfortunately, no. But what I can do is call them up and let them know I’ve got two similar cases up here. I don’t have to tell them I think they arrested the wrong guy; I can pretend I didn’t even know anyone had been charged.”
“Are you going to tell them to look at Orlowski?” Jenny posed.
Fazzino wiped the back of his neck with his hand. “Now that’s a touchy subject. I’ll have to tread lightly on that one. I’ll throw out some feelers—let them know that Orlowski used to be one of ours—and see their reaction. If they act like his shit don’t stink, I’ll keep quiet. If they feel the same way about him that I do, I’ll mention the possibility that Mr. Gunslinger may have had something to do with this. I’ll have to play that one totally by ear.”
While ideally Jenny would have liked a more definitive answer, she understood why it couldn’t be that easy. “I appreciate anything you can do to set the record straight.”
“Well, listen, I’m really impressed with your insight. I have to confess that the reason I was willing to talk to you at first was only because I was desperate. I’ve been working on this case for three years and I literally had nothing. I was so tired of having to tell Natalie and Quinette that I had no new leads about their daughters I was willing to try anything. But after seeing you yesterday…there’s no way you could have known about Jimmy or about that rain shower. I have to believe you’re for real. I never thought
in a million years I’d be taking advice from a psychic, but I do honestly think you’re a credible source.”
“Thank you sir.”
“But despite how I feel, I can’t call up the people in Georgia and tell them they’re wrong. I don’t know what other evidence they have against this kid. For all I know they might actually have the right guy. I haven’t seen enough proof for me to formally declare that Orlowski is a killer. Or a rapist. Or anything other than an overzealous cop.”
“I understand.” Jenny looked at her lap, aware that her disappointment was probably visible.
“Welcome to the world of police work,” Fazzino said with another chuckle. “It’s definitely a marathon, not a sprint. You’ve got to have the patience of a saint to be in this line of work.”
“Patience has never been my strong suit,” Jenny confessed.
“Well, my friend, that has to change.”
Jenny didn’t like that answer. “Zack and I have a flight to catch later tonight, so I’d like to make the most of today,” she began. “Would it be possible for me to visit the place where Lashonda’s body was found?”
“Sure,” Fazzino said, “I can take you there. Do you want me to bring you by the place Allison’s body was found too?”
“Maybe, if we have time,” Jenny replied, “But I haven’t gotten any messages from Allison so far; I’m not sure I’d get any today. I think I might want to spend the day focusing on Lashonda since I know she’s trying to contact me.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Fazzino replied. “Let me grab my coat and I’ll take you to the field.”
The officer led Zack and Jenny through the tall, yellow stalks that covered the field. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, a concept which puzzled Jenny since there were so few landmarks to use as references. After a relatively long walk, the officer stopped and pointed to the ground. “Her body was found here,” he noted. “She was lying face up with her head facing north-east.” He gestured in that direction.
Jenny held up her hands. “Don’t tell me anything else. I don’t want any preconceived notions to cloud my mind.”
Fazzino immediately stopped talking.
Jenny stuffed her hands in her pockets and took a few steps toward where the body had been located. She looked up at the sky, observing the same view Lashonda would have had from the ground. Jenny felt no fear as she had the other times Lashonda had contacted her. “Lashonda was never alive here,” Jenny said mechanically. “She was killed in that other location and was already dead when her body was brought here.”
Fazzino wrote frantically on his notepad.
“She was dragged,” Jenny noted, “from that way.” She pointed in the direction they had just walked. Closing her eyes for better focus, Jenny added, “She lost a shoe. She was being dragged from under her arms with her feet sliding along the ground, and one of her shoes fell off. It was along the path down there.” Again Jenny pointed in the direction they had come.
Jenny was getting another message, although she was having a difficult time discerning what it was. She paced around, eyes still closed, trying to determine exactly what she was supposed to understand. She shook her head slightly and added uncertainly, “There’s something significant about a bug. I don’t know what. Just…a bug.” After a moment, Jenny opened her eyes and declared, “That’s all I’ve got.”
“Well,” Fazzino said, “You were right on target with the shoe.”
“Was I really?” Jenny asked with a shiver. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her head.
“Yup. Her left shoe was found about 150 yards from her body. The broken grass blades indicated that she had been dragged to this location, and the missing shoe corroborated that idea. We weren’t sure, though, if she was already dead when she was brought here or if she had been left here to die.”
“There’s no fear here,” Jenny reiterated. “There was fear in the parking lot and absolute terror during the attack, wherever that was, but there was no emotion here. I have to believe she was already gone.”
“That’s good news,” Fazzino said. “I hate the thought of someone being left out here to die. If it has to happen at all, the quicker the better, I say.”
“So what about the bug?” Zack asked.
Fazzino shook his head. “That’s a new one. I’m going to have to look into that. It did take a few days to find the body, so I imagine that the flies had found their way to her by then. It was an unseasonably warm fall that year, too, so perhaps the bugs were more of a factor than they usually would have been that time of year. I’ll have to see if any notes were made about that.”
“I’m freezing,” Jenny said.
With a laugh, Fazzino posed, “Does that mean you want to head back to the car?”
“If you don’t mind,” Jenny replied. “Can we potentially drive to where Orlowski used to live? Maybe that’s the dark place he brought Lashonda.”
“Sounds good to me,” Fazzino said as they filed away from the location. Jenny took one last look around as they left, noting the barrenness of the area, feeling a great deal of sympathy for Lashonda. This was much too lonesome of a place for such a spirited young woman to be left. Discarded like trash, Jenny thought to herself as hatred of Orlowski consumed her.
With a glance to the sky, Jenny made a silent promise to Lashonda that she would do everything she could to make Orlowski pay for what he’d done.
Fazzino stopped the car in front of a modest, nondescript house near the center of Ivory Heights. “Here it is,” he remarked. “This is the address we had on file for Orlowski.”
Zack and Jenny stepped out of the car and stood at the edge of the lawn. Jenny studied the home carefully, doing her best to keep her own emotions out of the way. She shook her head as if to remove any thought from her mind, and with a sigh she closed her eyes, awaiting another contact from Lashonda.
She received nothing.
After several minutes of failed attempt, she opened her eyes and proclaimed, “I don’t think she was ever here. The silence is speaking volumes.”
Again Fazzino broke out his notebook. With a quick swirl of his pen, he asked, “So you aren’t getting anything?”
“Nope. Not a thing. And like I said, if anything I would conclude that this is her way of telling me we’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“She seemed to be smart like that,” Zack noted.
“Indeed she was,” Jenny said sadly. “Indeed she was.”
“So is there anywhere else you’d like me to take you?” Fazzino asked.
Jenny and Zack looked at each other, but neither had an obvious answer. “I might want to go back to the dollar store parking lot,” Jenny suggested, looking to see if Zack had any objections. After noting Zack’s silent approval, she turned to Fazzino. “But I know where that is. You don’t need to come with us if you don’t want. I’m sure you have a lot of other work you need to be doing.”
“Always,” Fazzino remarked. “But I do need to eat lunch, too. Would you guys like to grab a bite real quick?”
“Always,” Zack replied in the same tone Fazzino had used.
“He’ll never turn down food,” Jenny added. “He’s like a bottomless pit.”
“Enjoy it now,” Fazzino said, placing his hand on his slightly overweight stomach. “Once you get to be my age it catches up with you.”
They all piled into Fazzino’s car and headed to a local deli. While there, Zack and Jenny recounted the story of how they had come to work together and how, thanks to Elanor’s generosity, they were now able to dedicate themselves to solving crimes full time. Fazzino shared some stories about his brother Jimmy, who seemed like he had been quite a character during his short life. Jenny felt both joy and sadness during Fazzino’s accounts; as was the case with the other spirits she’d encountered, she wished she could have known Jimmy during his lifetime.
With a quick goodbye and a promise to pass along any new information, Zack and Jenny headed off in their rental car toward th
e dollar store parking lot. Once there, Jenny reclined comfortably in the driver’s seat, leaving the keys in the ignition just in case she felt the sudden urge to go anywhere. Zack sat silently in the passenger seat watching the sparse traffic go by on Chamberlain Avenue.
A moment later Jenny turned the key to the car, pulling out of the parking lot as she and Zack wordlessly put on their seatbelts. She made familiar lefts and rights, once again landing in front of the Hawkins’ house. She turned off the car and said, “Here we are again. Clearly we’re supposed to be here for some reason.”
Jenny looked out the window at the house. It was an older home, not in the best of shape. The shed was equally as run-down. “If Orlowski didn’t used to live here, I can’t imagine what the significance of this place would be,” Jenny confessed. “It’s just an old house.”
Zack nudged Jenny’s arm with his elbow. “Hey, check it out,” he said. He gestured toward the side of the house where a gray-haired, heavy set woman in a thick housecoat appeared from the back yard. She walked exaggeratedly, indicative of hip trouble, as she carried some firewood in each hand. Taking note of the car in front of the house, the woman stopped for a moment, looking inquisitively, before she continued on her way through the front door.
“Do you suppose that was Kimberly?” Zack asked with a smile.
“You’re a funny guy,” Jenny replied flatly. At a loss, she shook her head. “I have no idea what’s going on. This is the strangest thing ever. What does that old woman have to do with anything?” Jenny sat back in the driver’s seat and closed her eyes. Her investigation was providing more questions than answers, and her frustration level was elevating.
“Three thirty seven,” Jenny suddenly said.
“What?” Zack asked.
“Three thirty seven,” Jenny repeated. “I just saw the number flash in front of me.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know,” Jenny confessed with a sigh.
Zack looked at the house number in front of them. “It isn’t part of this address.”