Promised Box Set

by James Kipling

  Nobody answered.

  “I have one!” cried Laura.

  “And what is that?” I said to her.

  “How can you prove any of this?” she said with a fairly smug look on her face.

  “Please, don’t let her get away with it!” one of the parents begged.

  “I won’t,” I replied, “and I do in fact, have evidence. For one thing, I know that the love note that was written to Richard would have your fingerprints on it. If you are innocent, you would have no need to touch the piece of paper, so they would not be there.”

  “And you Laura, are the only one with access to drug a whole club full of people, to render them unable to assist.”

  Laura looked very vexed by now.

  “By the way, DNA testing has evolved so much over 20 years. It should be interesting to see just how many things we will find now, simply because that testing wasn’t available at the time.

  The high color in her face and her fidgeting revealed the anxiety Laura was experiencing.

  “And today, right this minute while we are all here, evidence is being gathered from your home, and from John’s home.

  “Ridiculous! You have nothing! You have no right to be in my home!”

  Evidence that will prove you posed as John’s mother. The yellow cardigan, covered with your hair and skin. Proof of your presence will be all over that house.”

  “You are bluffing, all easily explained. It made him happy!”

  “Laura. How could you? My mother? It wasn’t real? All these years it wasn’t real?” Broken hearted, John wept, as Monica tried to console him.

  “Oh shut up, you stupid twit!”

  Needing to push a little more to get a confession, I struck a bit below the belt, hoping to tip her over the edit. “Ironic isn’t it? That the dog would be your undoing?”

  “Oh that stupid mutt! And it’s not their brains you idiot, they follow their noses. Of course he could have found his way home! But no not this one, following me around like I was his new best friend—I couldn’t take the chance—” She gasped audibly, as she realized what she had done.

  The room was silent as everyone realized that it was true, and that the case was finally solved.

  “Damn you! You tricked me! Alright! Fine!” she cried, “I am the Minot Hacker! I did it! Are you all happy now?!”

  Monica looked at her. Everyone else looked at her, and the parents began to weep as they realized that their boys died over a petty prank and that finally justice would be done. After a nod from me, Patricia began to read Laura her rights and placed her under arrest.

  As people began milling around and preparing to leave, many of them gathered around me.

  “Thank you so much!” cried the parents of the victims. “We’ve waited twenty years for this day!”

  “I’m so glad you finally got answers and justice,” I said. “Laura will never get out of prison again, you can count on that.”

  “I never thought it would be a woman,” said the father of Daniel Gibson. “I thought about who the killer might be a lot, and I prayed to God for this day. Without you, we might never have found true justice!”

  The parents left, emotional but relieved somehow. However, there were still two people I wanted to speak to. Monica slowly approached us.

  “Thank you,” she said, nearly crying.

  “What for?” I asked.

  “For having faith in us.”

  Monica and John then held hands, and walked out of the police station and into the sunlight. I almost cried when I watched them give each other a hug. He looked exhausted, but calm.

  “It’s over now, John,” said Monica. “It’s all over.”

  And I’m so glad it is!

  Chapter 13

  June, 1974

  The Green family was similar to any typical family living in a rough housing project in the town of Minot, North Dakota. They were unemployed, had little money and overall, were experiencing a tough time during an economic depression. During this time, many people turned to alcohol, and no one cared about anyone else but themselves and their own families. Times were hard, and many did not see a way out of it. Nobody knew if they were ever going to experience happiness again. The country was going through a terrible time, and that was just the way it was.

  Ian Green was like any other child going through these times. He was eight years of age, and often had little to eat outside of school hours. He was an innocent child who was always making people laugh. He had no idea of the situation the country was in, as he was too young to understand, and was too occupied with his own childhood to even try or be aware. He had spent his whole life so far in one house in a housing project, as had his older sister and younger brother. His brother, Evan, was six years of age, while his sister, Alison, was almost seventeen.

  Evan was known as a geek, or a nerd. He wore square glasses and had two teeth at the front of his mouth that stuck out. Very few people talked to him in those days. He was always in the background, and a target for bullies. Ian could not do anything but watch him get picked on, as he was powerless against the large groups that gathered. Evan didn’t fit in at all with the rest of the family either, he was too intelligent, though nobody else in the family seemed to notice.

  Alison, on the other hand, was a typical teenage girl. She was the complete opposite of Evan in some ways, as she spent most of her time going out and fussing with her hair.

  One evening in 1984 was a completely typical night. It was quiet outside, and there was no one around, except the entire Green family, excluding the one who did not bother to speak to any of them.

  “Bitch, I asked for a steak pie, not a pork one!” cried Thomas, the patriarch.

  “Do I care?” asked Iris, drinking a large glass of wine. Iris was the matriarch of the family, and most of the time didn’t care much about anything.

  “You will in a minute if you don’t keep your damn trap shut!” screamed an enraged Thomas.

  The rest of the family was watching from the background in the living room, knowing what was about to happen next. Iris’ parents who lived next door, Margaret and Fred, were watching too, and all three children were there. The two boys watched in fear, while Alison did not care at all. She was too busy putting on makeup for her night out. Iris’ sister, Ellen, was also there. Ellen and Iris were nothing alike at all. Iris was plump and had short, brown hair, while Ellen was a skinny blonde.

  “Here they go again!” laughed Margaret, and Fred laughed along with her.

  “And if you don’t shut up I’ll ram your head into that door!” yelled Thomas, even more angry that his mother-in-law was chiming in. Those threats were not at all empty, as the entire family knew the extent of his violent behavior.

  “Don’t talk to her like that!” Iris cried, getting up to deal with Thomas. She stood up, but could barely walk. She was obviously drunk, as usual. The rest of the family had no idea where she got those amounts of alcohol from. Maybe there was a secret supplier, they thought. Iris half-limped over to Thomas and as she tried to hit him, he jumped up and punched her repeatedly in the mouth. Two of her teeth fell out, and her face turned red. She screamed at him to stop but he didn’t listen, and neither did anyone else. Nobody cared anymore.

  “You go, girl!” cried Iris’ father, enjoying the action.

  Iris then picked up a knife and Thomas got a cut on his hand.

  “I’m gonna kill you!” he cried.

  Iris tried to run away, but he grabbed her hair and yanked it. She screamed for someone to help her.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, Ian got up heroically and tried to stop the fight. He could not bear to see his mother abused like this; it was becoming more and more frequent.

  “Let go of her… now!” Ian cried.

  Everyone in the room was bewildered by this. Thomas let go of his wife.

  “What did you just say?” he said, in complete shock that the eight-year-old boy stood up to him.
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  “I hate you! I’m gonna tell the police!”

  This made Thomas even angrier. He grabbed hold of little Ian and smacked his head against the wall. Forcing the boy onto the wall, he then repeatedly punched Ian in the stomach. Poor Evan was screaming in fear.

  Alison, on the other hand was laughing, saying, “Go on, Dad! Kick the shit out of him!”

  Thomas eventually finished beating his child. Dropping him to the floor, Ian, covered in bruises, and bleeding in places curled up, trying to get his bearings. He coughed and spit up blood, and just lay there, trying to be invisible.

  “And don’t you ever, ever stand up to me again!” he screamed, kicking the child a few more times.

  Ellen, who was still there in the background, stood next to her parents who were watching the scene just as if they were watching a television program. She decided at some point that enough was enough.

  “Right, I’d best be off then,” she said, her voice trembling.

  “See ya, love!” said Margaret, kissing her on the hand. Ellen left, telling herself that she had not witnessed any of what she had just seen.

  Alison then got up.

  “Right, I’m ready,” she said.

  “And where are you going?” Thomas asked.

  “I’m going to my friend’s party,” she replied. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m wearing a pink dress!”

  “Well, go on then,” said Thomas.

  Alison left, leaving the rest of the house in tatters. Evan was hiding under a table, while Ian was still in shock and agony. He had been hit a few times before, but this was the worst by far. Iris carried on drinking, and Thomas sat down to eat his pork pie.

  It was a cold night, actually the early hours of the morning, and there was a person out in the middle of a field, digging. The person dug a hole, and they placed something into that hole. That thing was a person. A woman. A young woman. A young woman wearing a pink dress.

  Chapter 14

  It was one week after the ‘Minot Hacker’ murder case had been solved, and I was still receiving vast amounts of media attention, although there was now little left to be said. To me, it was done and in the past, and I now focused all of my energy on the next murder case I was assigned to, even if that meant going back to the steady stream of gang killings.

  “Has everything settled down now?” asked Miranda, my colleague and to some degree at least, my friend.

  I had thought that maybe Miranda was jealous of my achievement, since I knew that she had never used a fraction of that sort of deductive power in her life, and even if she had been assigned to the Minot Hacker case, she would not have solved it. The true murderer would have gotten away with it, sending an innocent man to prison. Although I was very proud of what I had done to help those families, I didn’t brag about it, nor did I ever mention to the others that I was pleased with my success.

  To my bewilderment, there was still a newspaper article about me pinned up on the boss’s wall when I entered the room, even though seven days had gone by. I was very pleased that Clive Mitchell thought so much of me – though that was something else for Miranda to be jealous of.

  “Yeah, and to be honest, Miranda, I’m kind of glad the whole thing is over with,” I replied, before I went into the boss’s office, ready to be assigned to my next murder case. I assumed it was another gang killing, because that was what they generally were; the gang violence in North Dakota was at the highest rate ever in 2012, which made me weary sometimes. However, I knew I should never assume anything, and indeed I was about to be proven wrong, which I discovered when, Mitchell assigned me to the case.

  “Williams,” he began, smiling slightly as I entered the room, “I have a new case for you, and I think you’ll like it.”

  “Alright,” I replied, waiting for more information, eager to discover what the man had in store for me. Inside, I was thinking that not many could be trickier than solving the Minot murders, but I knew I could be surprised.

  “Well,” said Mitchell, “this morning we—or should I say, a dog—found the body of an unidentified victim. There is not much left but bones, and they appear to be female. I’ll let you look at it and you’ll see the rest. It’s obvious that this person died decades ago. I’ve chosen you for this case because I trust you. I have faith that you will find the killer, no matter how hard it will be. You have already demonstrated your instincts, skills and tenacity, so this should be no problem for you.”

  I was quite annoyed at Mitchell’s assumption, because he shouldn’t have put that much pressure on me. Sometimes murders are unsolvable, especially cold cases, since there are no leads from the start. It’s sad, but true, except unfortunately, Mitchell didn’t see it like that. He was talking like I was some god or guru of detectives, and I knew I wasn’t. I have to admit that I also wondered if he had enjoyed the positive attention we had received by solving the Minot Hacker case, and was going for another success story. But although I was talented at what I did, no argument there, I could not make any deductions about things if there wasn’t anything to deduce from, and this case seemed on the surface that it may be just that. On the other hand, it was worth a shot, and it was better than working on the gang killings all the time, which honestly were kind of boring, so I was ready for the challenge, leaving others to work on my own for a second time. I predicted they would be pretty annoyed, but for now I had more important things to focus on.

  I arrived at the crime scene—an empty field in the middle of nowhere, seemingly. There was nothing else around except nature. There were no houses and no public facilities, it was just an empty field. In the distance, just a few hundred feet away, I could see several small hills which were clumped together, but that was literally all there was to see. There were no roads around, as this field was connected to other abandoned fields. It was only then that the local forest could be seen.

  I approached the forensics team, knowing that the body would still be there. As a matter of fact, what the boss said was right—it was not actually a body, only bones. However, there was something on the body that I noticed quite quickly… a pink dress. The person who was killed obviously wore a pink dress that night, so anybody could deduce that they were likely out at some sort of a social event.

  “Will you be able to get any DNA?” I asked the forensic technician nearest me.

  “It doesn’t look very good. We’ve looked pretty carefully—as best we can in these conditions—and there are no obvious fingerprints on the victim’s dress. Obviously, any fingerprints that would have been on the victim are gone now, and we didn’t see any hairs on the body, aside from her own. So no, I don’t think there will be much for DNA evidence, I’m afraid,” he replied.

  That was a huge disappointment for me. DNA was the easy way out, but it looked to me as though this case was going to be a tough one from the start.

  “Do you know how the victim was killed?” I asked the forensic scientist.

  “The scratch marks on the bones suggest that this victim was stabbed at least nine times,” he replied. “But it is possible they were stabbed many more times than that.”

  Inside, I felt sick. How could somebody do this to another human being? I asked myself, although it was really no more horrific than any other case I’d worked on.

  I took another look at the bones, especially the facial expression. Although there was nothing left except bones, I could clearly envision the victim dying in pain. The mouth was open, but there were no teeth.

  “There are no teeth!” I cried.

  “Yes. That is one of the most horrific parts. The person who did this probably pulled this woman’s teeth out, from what I can tell by looking at the mouth,” replied the forensic scientist.

  I thought I was going to throw up. Why would somebody do that? Perhaps it was to make sure the body was not identified. That was the only explanation I could think of right now. Other than that, torture. Now that the victim had no teeth, I could not even compare the vi
ctim’s teeth with any dental records. This case was getting harder all the time, but I could feel myself growing even more determined. I felt a strong connection to the victim for some reason. I made it my new personal goal to make sure that whoever did this be caught and held accountable, dead or alive.

  Chapter 15

  My first step was to conduct some door-to-door research around the area, to see if anyone knew anything about this mysterious unidentified woman. I hoped and prayed there would be someone old enough to remember the disappearance of a woman in the area. I was not completely certain that the dumping ground was in fact anywhere near the place where this woman lived, but the killer obviously knew the area well, or else they would not have been able to find this place, since it was in the middle of nowhere. It would be virtually impossible to discover this place by accident when looking for a place to dump a body. This murder was planned, I was sure of that. Somebody wanted this woman dead for whatever reason, so I desperately needed to figure out who she was. Then I could work from there.

  I started with the door-to-door enquiries, but to my great misfortune, no one knew a thing about it. For years people had been walking their dogs through this field, completely ignorant of the fact that they were walking over a dead body. It was a shame that no one had tried to regenerate the field, because if a farmer had found her years before, we would have had half a chance of identifying her. Certainly, much more of a chance than I did now. Since the door-to-door enquiries did no good at all, I decided to return to the station, and wait for the autopsy report.

  Later that day, the post-mortem information came back, and it revealed that the woman probably died somewhere between 1980 and 1990. That was useful to a certain extent, because if I were to find a lead, I could use it to help search for the identity of the woman. However, it didn’t help me get any closer to figuring out who she was, which was the most important thing. All I needed was one person to come forward and say that they knew of this mystery woman. Someone did know, I was certain of that. Someone had to know the details of her disappearance. The report also said that she was probably between the ages of twenty and thirty-five. That narrowed it down slightly, but it still didn’t help much. I had planned to use the missing person’s database to see if I could get a lead on this, but asked Mitchell (not the boss, the other Mitchell) to go instead, as I was still busy analyzing the autopsy details.