by Sean Platt
“Oh, God, no.”
“And Wes recorded it.”
Jasper closed his eyes, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure where the story was going, but he needed to hear the rest if only it gave him leverage with Paul if he had to negotiate for Jessi’s freedom rather than kill for it.
A part of Jasper felt terrible for the young Paul Dodd, an innocent kid who never had a chance at being normal. A kid who was screwed over by a father who left, a crazy drug-addict mother, and by a pure demon — the rotten recipe to fashion the man who would go on to kill Ashley Black and kidnap Jessi Price.
But Paul was no longer an innocent. Now he was the monster, and someone had to stop him.
Rachel continued. “Eventually, Wes began having sex with Katie while Paul watched, joined in, or screwed whatever other girl Wes had roped into his sick little parties. This all continued for a bit until Katie turned ten, which was incidentally the time she started getting breasts.”
“And then he kicked them to the curb?”
“Yep.”
“But Katie didn’t take it well.”
“What happened?”
“She told her mother that Wes was raping them both. She didn’t mention that Paul had sex with her or that Wes had filmed it, but the minute the shit hit the fan, Paul was terrified that the cops would find out and that he’d be arrested too.”
“Did they find out?”
“No. They never did. Paul doesn’t know what happened to the video Wes recorded, but no cop ever asked about it. And it never came up in trial. It was as if it never happened. Their mother died shortly after the trial. Paul and Katie were both sent into foster care. Paul was adopted by a good foster family. They were supportive and made sure that he did well in school. He quit hanging out with drug addicts and started making something of himself. He enlisted in the Army after graduation. Was in Special Ops or something; he doesn’t like to talk about that time. But he got a full scholarship from the Army, then came home, went to school, and got a teaching gig. He was living a normal life. Somehow, he managed to escape his abuse relatively untarnished. Katie wasn’t so lucky.”
“What happened to her?”
“She had the opposite experience, bounced around from home to home, never got along with other kids. She was sexually abused and eventually ran away. Paul didn’t hear from her for a long time. She reached out a few years ago. She was living in Portland and got herself into some trouble. Heroin, I think. She asked Paul for money. He said he couldn’t help her unless she went into a treatment facility. That was the last time they ever spoke.”
Rachel took another drink of her water, then stared at Jasper. Finally, she said, “Paul isn’t a bad guy. Yes, he has this other side, a deep, brooding side that he’d go into every so often. I figured it was from his abuse, or maybe things he saw in the Army. That stuff messes with everyone, right? But I didn’t think he was bad. At least not enough to ever hurt his own child.”
It looked like she believed it. “Then why the divorce?”
She blinked back tears. “I guess because I couldn’t be certain. And if anything ever did happen to Lily, I’d never forgive myself. The way he explained it was that he didn’t exclusively like kids. He said he loved me more than I could know, and I think that he meant it. Paul wasn’t one of these pervert child molesters. He hated that he was attracted to children, that he was so twisted at an early age. How do you come back from that? How do you cure that? He loves kids, in the platonic sense of the word, and teaching. Can you imagine if he went to a shrink and told them what he was feeling? How quickly he’d be ostracized and out of a job?”
Jasper hated how she was defending her ex-husband, but also knew it must’ve been hard for her to reconcile the man she loved versus the things he hid, and now the fact that he might have kidnapped a child. She was clinging to illusion even as truth’s light eroded the facade.
“He said he’d never hurt Lily or any kid. Said that he knew all too well how it felt to be a victim and would never put that on anyone. I believed him. That’s why I didn’t report Paul to the police. I just wanted him out of our life. I demanded full custody, and he said he wouldn’t fight it. I thought this would be easier, on all of us. Just make him go away. I never thought he’d touch a child. I … I should’ve said something.”
Rachel was starting to crack, realizing that her inaction might cost another little girl her life. She looked at Jasper, face in anguish, desperate for absolution.
But he wasn’t the one to forgive. And there could be no solace, at least not until Jessi Price was alive and home with her parents.
“Do you know where he is now?” Jasper already had an address for Paul, but given that the man had used a decoy, his public info could also be false.
“Yeah, now and then I get mail and send it to him.”
“May I have his address?”
Rachel stood, went into the study, then returned a few moments later with a piece of paper. She handed it to Jasper.
He looked down at the address. It was the same one he already had. “Does he have any other places that you know about? Places he might hide a child?”
“No, not that I know of.”
Jasper stood, thanked Rachel for her time, and was about to head toward the door when he stopped and turned. “Did you happen to keep any copies of the things you saw on his computer?”
Rachel’s eyes moved ever so slightly, giving her away even if she attempted denial. But she didn’t. “Yes, I did.”
“Could you make me a copy?”
“Um … I … I dunno.”
Jasper could understand her reservations on a few levels. One, she’d be handing over photos of her daughter to a stranger. Two, she probably wondered if her having these things would make her liable either criminally or for withholding evidence.
“Okay, you don’t need to give me a copy. But I suggest that you put one in a safe deposit account and inform your lawyer that if anything happens to you, that copy goes straight to the police.”
Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t think he’d come after Lily or me, do you?”
“I don’t know. But we ought to take care of this, just to be on the safe side.”
“Do you think I should call the police and give them the evidence?”
Jasper didn’t want that. At least not yet. He needed a chance to move in on Paul before the sheriff’s department. He was the only one who could guarantee Jessi’s safety and ensure that Paul was taken care of once and for all before the monster could hurt anyone else.
“No need to thrust yourself into the headlines just yet. That wouldn’t be good for you, your daughter, or Jessi Price. Just make a copy, and I’ll be in touch soon. I’m working with a few deputies make sure this is done as quickly and as quietly as possible.”
Rachel looked ever so slightly relaxed. “Thank you, Mister?”
“Houser. Cole Houser. And thank you, ma’am.”
Jasper left.
It was time to end Paul Dodd and save Jessi Price.
* * * *
CHAPTER 32 - MALLORY BLACK
CHAPTER 32—MALLORY BLACK
Mal lined up her shot, aimed down the sight, and fired at the target, a gray paper silhouette on a cardboard backing showing vitals in dark circles for the head and heart.
She emptied her Glock 22, half heart-shots, and half head. None missed.
So many times, she’d pictured her daughter’s killer on the receiving end of her gun. She had no idea what he looked like, and that made it harder to imagine, and therefore prepare, for his death; but she could at least be certain that with practice she wouldn’t flinch once eye-to-eye with the opportunity.
She’d always been a great shot, one of the top in her graduating class at the academy. Since leaving the force, Mal had hit the range at least three times a week, and she’d only improved.
Mal smiled and hit the button to bring the target closer, examining her results with no small amoun
t of pride. She replaced the target, then sent it back to ready her next shot.
She thought back about Ray coming to her house, saying that she ought to be attending meetings. Mal could admit to having a small problem, but it wasn’t like she was off the rails like after Ashley’s death.
She was managing fine.
What did Ray know? He was living his new life with Julie. He wasn’t there with her and didn’t see how well she got along most days.
Could an addict make such precise shots?
She lined up her shot and aimed again.
The first one missed, and so did the second.
But the third found its home, as did every one after.
She scowled for allowing thoughts of Ray to ruin her game.
She recalled her target, tore off the sheet, and was about to line up a new one when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.
She pulled it out and saw a text from Mike: Got something to show you.
She gathered her stuff, left the range, removed her headphones, and went to the car.
Inside, she turned the engine to get the air going and dialed Mike.
“Hey, Mike. What have you got for me?”
“We ran the names of people at the coffee shop, cross referenced them with times, and I’ve pulled a few photos for you to look at. Where you at?”
“Westside Shooting Range.”
“Hang tight; I’m about five minutes out.”
**
Five minutes later, to the tee, Mike pulled up alone in his unmarked car.
“Where’s your partner?” Mal asked when he got out of his car.
“Back at the precinct running down leads.”
Mike opened a manila folder and spread its contents on top of her trunk. “I pulled driver’s license photos from the DMV. Any of these men look familiar?”
Mal had no idea what her daughter’s killer looked like, nor did they ever land any credible suspects. But it was possible that these photos could trigger a memory of someone she’d never considered — maybe a guy she locked up years ago, or someone on the periphery that she’d never viewed as a suspect. Sometimes missing data, like who was in the coffee shop spying on her, was the missing link that allowed a person to finish the puzzle.
“These are all the guys at the coffee shop at the time of the login to my cameras?”
“All that we’ve not already ruled out.”
There were eleven photos with names and DMV info attached. She picked up the closest one and examined it, waiting for some recognition.
Nothing.
She moved to the next, then the third.
Something clicked on the fifth.
Mal stared at the photo of the handsome man with the brown curly hair and the piercing blue eyes.
He looked so familiar, yet she couldn’t remember any context.
She looked at the name. Paul Dodd of Cantille Street.
But there were no ringing bells.
She wondered if he was one of her drunken one-night stands. He was prettier than her usual type, but a hookup was possible. Mal hated that her life was so out of control that she couldn’t remember if she’d slept with a man. Before Ray, there had only been one other man. Since Ray, she’d lost count.
She stared at the photo trying to shake something loose.
Then it hit her.
The toy store.
The morning Ashley vanished.
She’d been looking for that Kewl Chic doll and had run into this man in the toy aisle.
He’d made small talk. She thought maybe he was even flirting. Then she was interrupted by a call from work; the burglary turned double homicide.
She hadn’t thought much of him at the time, or since — until now. Even in the days after Ashley went missing, and anyone she’d ever met was practically a suspect, she’d never thought of the man in the toy store. She’d always seen that as a random encounter.
But now she knew better.
Paul Dodd had been stalking her even then.
Plotting, planning, and brazen enough to bump into her the day he planned to take Ashley. She stared at the photo and finally had a face to go with two years of rage, pain, and hate.
“Him,” she said, handing the paper to Mike. “It’s him.”
* * * *
CHAPTER 33 - JASPER PARISH
Jasper’s heart raced as he stepped out from the dark woods, hopped the fence, and landed in Paul Dodd’s back yard — practically pitch black beneath the new moon.
There were lights on in the windows along the back of his home, but the blinds were all drawn so that Jasper couldn’t see inside.
He adjusted his ski mask, tightened his gloves, then reached back and pulled his backpack around to his front, unzipped it, and withdrew the pistol. He’d already done a Google Maps search to see photos of Paul’s home and yard. It was the only house on this side of the street with a fully fenced-in back. He double checked to make sure there were fences on either side.
Jasper patted his front pocket to make sure his cell hadn’t fallen out. He’d need to call Jordyn — parked at a nearby gas station — once he was done killing Paul and saving Jessi.
Paul’s house didn’t have any doors along the rear, meaning he’d either need to climb in through a window or circle around the front and hope nobody spotted him picking the lock.
He crept up to the closest window along the back and pressed his gloves against it, trying to slide the window open.
But it wouldn’t budge.
He tried the other windows: same results.
Why can’t things ever be easy?
He crept toward the side of the house, hearing the muffled sounds of classical music from the other side of the walls. He wondered if that was where Paul was keeping the girl.
He continued along the side of the house, reached the tall privacy fence’s gate, slowly unlatched it, and peered into the front yard.
Jasper froze when he saw movement on the sidewalk.
He watched shadows form the shape of a rotund man walking a Chihuahua.
The dog sniffed the ground, taking forever, looking for a place to do its business.
Come on.
Being so close to his kill, and yet unable to reach him, was a torment to Jasper. He wanted to get inside and get this over with. He didn’t even intend to take his time with Dodd as he had the others. No ritual of knocking him out and then waiting for him to wake for a speech about why he deserved to die. No drawn-out process to make Paul regret his sins.
This would be quick and efficient, so he could ensure that Jessi was alive and well. Then he would call the cops so they could come and get the girl after he was long gone.
This one wasn’t about a kill.
This was about saving a life.
And though he hated Paul Dodd for the hell he’d put Mallory through — a hell that Jasper had followed on television in the weeks and months that followed Ashley’s disappearance — this wasn’t even about revenge for the Black family.
This was about Jessi Price.
Oh, yeah, if this isn’t about the kill then why the hell didn’t you just call the police in the first place? Let them know where to find the girl?
Because I can’t trust the police not to screw this up. Especially after that press conference where they threw Mallory under the bus.
The man and the tiny dog finally moved on.
Jasper opened the fence and made his way into the front yard.
He spied a few other people out for late night walks along the cul-de-sac, but fortunately for Jasper, Paul’s front yard had plenty of trees and shrubs, making it easy to stay out of sight as he made his way to the front door.
The porch was dark, comforting Jasper as he retrieved his lock picking set and worked the door.
He had it unlocked in less than a minute.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t trigger an alarm.
Jasper swallowed hard, gripped his gun, and crossed the threshold into the killer’s home.
* *
* *
CHAPTER 34 - MALLORY BLACK
Gloria’s office was the last place in the world Mal would’ve expected herself to be this morning. But there she stood opposite her old boss, waiting for the woman to deliberate on what she and Mike had just told her.
Gloria looked up over her glasses. “And you think he has Jessi Price?”
“Yes.”
“But we have no evidence?”
“Other than my hunch, no.”
Mike took the ball. “But we’ve got this guy on possible burglary, logging into Mallory’s account, stalking, if not outright being Ashley’s murderer. So, is it a reach that this Dodd also has Price? Maybe. But not by much.”
“I’ll never get Judge Cansell to green light a search warrant tying this to Jessi Price.”
“We don’t need it for Jessi. We go after him for breaking into my house. We just need to get in the door. We find evidence of Jessi being there, then we call the judge and update our warrant. Or, we can use exigent circumstances.”
Gloria looked back at the packet on Dodd. Former military, honorable discharge, a teacher, divorced due to irreconcilable differences. His wife had sole custody of their nine-year-old daughter. He had no record — unfortunate for them as that might have helped make their case. Maybe some B&E, stalking, or indecent exposure — anything to nudge Gloria’s eventual yes.
She met Mal’s eyes. “And you said this guy came up to you the day Ashley vanished? You’re certain it’s him? I mean, how do you remember something like that, a random guy in a store, especially given everything else that happened that day?”