My blackmailer, the evil one, will not give me his name, but he has recently insisted with excitement that I call him Six. He said, “You may refer to me as Six, but under no circumstance are you to reveal this name to anyone.” I secretly feel a more appropriate name for this lunatic sociopath should be that of Sick, and not the name Six.
I am very weary. I have no life, but at least I do live. The hours that I work are very long and the work is physically tiring. The physically tiring work is good, because that means I sleep at night. I do not date. My music is dead to me except for playing tunes for my own entertainment, or strumming while in the park. I often consider what will happen to me after I perform the dastardly deed required of me by the blackmailer.
I leave my thoughts and come back to the present noticing women and some men are strolling by and glancing at the older gentleman and his red dog. I sense that people are impressed with the two. I observe people smiling and whispering to each other as they pass the duo. When women or children approach the two, the red dog growls softly and this ends the intruders thoughts of wanting to pet him.
I check my watch. The bus should be approaching real soon, and on schedule. The sun is shining, but a few dark rain clouds have appeared in the distance. Squirrels are scampering and chasing each other, the birds are chirping and singing, and I am sitting on this park bench feeling as caged and confined as a lion in Lincoln Park Zoo.
I glance up and once more see the young man in the second floor apartment window. He continues his trance like appearance; he is very still, unmoving, and suddenly he begins moving as though dancing in place with hands and arms making very slow subtle gestures.
The sky begins to darken and I think, “It will begin to rain soon. April showers bring May flowers.” I giggle to myself.
I see the bus approaching. I stir and stand in the path near my park bench and move slowly toward the park bench that the old man and the red dog have vacated. I watch the cute duo leave the pet island and walk slowly in front of the approaching bus to enter the crosswalk.
Chapter 5
Baby Carriage Lady
I have grown sick of being in this park every morning at sunrise. I have walked these paths until my feet hurt; after walking I am required to sit on a park bench for a designated period of time. Each morning at the same time for the same length of time, I have to be here; I have no choice.
My son’s baby carriage is in front of me with covers tucked around a sleeping infant. Periodically I rock the handle of the carriage and peek under the covers seemingly to assure myself that the baby is okay.
There is no baby in the carriage; my heart aches. It is so difficult for me to remain calm. All I want to do is place my face in my hands and sob. I look up slowly and ever so slightly tilt my head upward and see the young man in his second story apartment window. Sometimes the young man is exercising and other times he is staring into the park.
I look to my right and notice that the old man is sitting on the next park bench and his red dog is lying at his feet. At times they appear to be communicating with each other. Each morning when I arrive at this location, the two are here and at the same bench. The dog has a retractable leash on and he is well behaved. The only time I notice him lift his head is when anyone approaches and tries to interact with the old man or himself. The man has his ever present blue backpack and walking cane lying next to him on the bench. The old gentleman is dressed casually in black cargo pants, black tee shirt, green rain jacket, black Crocs, and has on his head a black beret which is cocked to one side over his ear. I have noticed that he moves about very carefully, but I sense that he has formidable skills.
I allow my mind to regress to a happier time eighteen months ago when my boyfriend Devon invited me to take a three day gambling vacation trip with him to Biloxi, Mississippi. Quite often, I review that time revisiting the past for sensible answers to our current dilemma, but find none.
Devon and I met eight weeks prior to the trip, and bonded immediately. A short time later, I discovered that I was pregnant with his child. Upon meeting Devon I informed him that I had lived with another man before meeting him. Devon chose to believe that the baby I was carrying was the other man’s and not his. He abandoned me when I needed him desperately.
I work as a computer technician for a large company in Rockford. My benefits include a nice salary and medical benefits with paid maternity leave. I took paid maternity leave prior to my baby’s delivery, and was able to stay home with him for a couple of months before returning to work full time. I have been able to provide for myself and my son before and since his birth. I am thankful that I did not have to go on government aid.
After Prince’s birth, Devon called and asked to see the baby and me. He said, “My Great Aunt Fatima, my only living relative, says that I should be a friend to you; a friend that you could count on for emotional support.”
Devon came to visit and when I opened the door to let him in I was holding Prince in my arms. As he approached to check him out, he looked me in the eye, and I knew from his expression that something about us softened him; he wept on my shoulder as he embraced his family. Prince had many of Devon’s physical characteristics; he held Devon’s index finger solidifying a father son bond.
When Prince was three months old Devon invited me for another weekend trip to Biloxi. He said, “I think you could use a short break.” I reminded him that I had no immediate family, and that I did not have anyone to care for our son while we were out of town. After I returned to work, I started using my company’s on-site child care facility during work hours; otherwise I always had my baby with me.
Devon responded with, “My Aunt Fatima is out of town and cannot keep Prince for us. Don’t worry, I will arrange for professional child care for Prince. Our son will be safe. I know of an in home nanny service called Nanny’s For Hire; I saw their ad on the side of a city bus just the other day. I will contact them and pay for Prince’s care while we are away. There nannies are highly skilled professionals.”
Devon contacted the agency and made the arrangements. On the day of our departure, the nanny arrived, she was very professional in appearance and behavior, and presented me her agency information for review. We left for our trip to Biloxi. I felt my son was in good hands.
The casino hotel on the gulf was beautiful. Our reservations were for a three night stay. We arrived in Biloxi on a Thursday night, and had a wonderful dinner in one of the casino’s restaurants. We then gambled for a few hours; we had fun. I was happy and glad that I had come on the trip.
Late Friday afternoon, Devon received a call. He said he was going to have to leave Biloxi for a short business trip. I knew that he bought and sold cars, had flexible odd hours and always seemed to have money. We never discussed details of his employment. When I look back, prior to our second trip to Biloxi, Devon’s attitude toward his work was very secretive.
After the phone call Devon admitted to me that one of his jobs was as a member of a grand theft auto ring. Devon continued talking and said, “I am through with that kind of work. I am quitting and plan to go straight. I know that I have to provide a respectable environment for Prince as he grows up.”
Before our trip, Devon told his clients and the theft ring leader that he was quitting because he had new responsibilities and was going to go straight. They were very angry with him, but they would agree to his terms after one last job. Devon agreed to one last job which would take a couple of weeks in New Orleans.
I was upset to hear about Devon’s involvement with auto theft and his agreement to go to New Orleans. I knew that I would only make him angry if I continued to discuss the matter with him. My hope was that he would get a decent job and become involved in rearing Prince to be an upright and law abiding person. I did not want my son to be a criminal.
Devon said, “I have made arrangements for you to return to Rockford. I will join you after I have finished my job.”
I left early Saturday morning; we had been gone
less than two days.
Upon returning to my apartment I discovered that the Nanny and my little son Prince were not there. Prince’s baby carriage was in its usual place, I immediately panicked. I took the Nanny for Hire card out of my purse and dialed the number; the person that answered the telephone said that they did not have a record of a Prince Brown ever being cared for by their service. I knew that it had been a working number because I talked with the Nanny before agreeing to let her care for Prince. (CeCe has unknowingly reached a disposable cell phone and one of the blackmailer’s accomplices.)
Thinking his involvement with auto crime and quitting had something to do with this I tried calling Devon. His cell went straight to voice mail. I then tried to call the emergency number he had given me earlier; I was told he had quit over a month ago. That was before he asked me to go on the second trip to Biloxi. My phone rang after I finished the call to the emergency number. A voice told me not to panic, and if I wanted to see my baby son again I must go to a certain park for further instructions. A police officer would meet with me and tell me exactly what was expected of me. I must do as I was told are face prostitution charges.
I knew immediately what the caller was referring to. The charges would definitely ruin my career as a computer technician, and I would probably loose Prince to Child Protective Services.
The voice said, “Keep your mouth shut and you will get your son back in a week or two, keep your mouth shut or else.”
Weeks have gone by and I am terrified for my son’s safety. I ask myself, “Will I hold Prince in my arms again?” I feel I am losing my mind, and this monster knows it and loves it.
Devon finally phoned me from New Orleans reporting to me that he was almost finished with his job. He said it would not be long before we could start over together with Prince. I told him about Prince as soon as I could get him to shut up about life of crime. Devon was very upset about Prince. He said, “I do not believe that the people I have been working with would branch out to kidnapping from grand theft auto; grand theft auto is a very lucrative business. I will catch the first available flight to O’Hare; we will do whatever it takes to get Prince back. Whatever you do leave the police out of this.” I had not even considered calling the police. I knew that I could not contact the police, because the blackmailer told me not to. I reminded Devon of this.
Looking back at my past, I realize I made some stupid decisions and terrible mistakes. My reputation was not always good. Several years ago while living in Chicago, I ran into very hard times. I did not have enough money to support myself. I had finished high school and was working as a waitress while attending Lincoln Technical College.
While waitressing in a local diner, I met a young woman who was a frequent customer of the diner and always sat in my section. We talked as I waited on her, and we became friends. One evening she invited me to meet her for a drink after my shift ended. As we visited and talked, I told her my financial woes. She told me she had experienced the same problems and proceeded to tell me that she worked for an escort agency. I was intrigued. She arranged for me to talk with the agency, and soon I was working for them.
Foolishly, I thought that being an escort would be fun. The moral aspect of the job did not bother me. Escort meant something different than I had envisioned. I had to make it work for me until I could break away. I was arrested once for solicitation and booked. My escort agency attorney bailed me out and had the charges reduced to some obscure count; I was freed from jail but fired from the escort agency.
I did make a few right decisions after being fired from the agency. I used savings to continue and complete my degree. Three months later, I received my Computer Technician degree, and got a good job with good pay and benefits in Rockford, Illinois. After I moved to Rockford, I worked at my job and never became involved with any type of escort service.
The blackmailer told me that he had evidence that I had worked for the escort agency in Chicago. He said, “I will have you charged with solicitation and prostitution with Devon and with other men; believe me I have evidence.”
When Devon arrived home I told him about having worked for the escort service, and he agreed we must do as the blackmailer kidnapper told us. Devon said, “We have no choice but to do as he says, because we have no way of locating him. Prince’s kidnapper gave you all of his instructions by phone assuring his anonymity. This person is not only devious, he is well informed.”
The blackmailer instructed me to buy a Glock; the gun cost me $700.00. I was further instructed to take firearms training and spend some time on a firing range. The blackmailer told me that after I received my certificate of completion I was to place it in an envelope and tape it beneath a bench in Forest City Park.
I am good with my gun, very good, but when it comes time to shoot someone I am not sure that I can. I know that I must do as the blackmailer instructs, I have no choice. My little Prince’s safety depends on me. I just can’t let him down.
I received a call, there was no caller information; I assumed the caller had a disposable cell phone like mine. The caller said, “I am a police officer assigned to you.” I immediately said, “I need help.” The man purported to be a police officer replied, “I am being paid to eliminate you and your son if you do not do as you are instructed. You must not seek help.”
At that point I knew that I had no choice but to do as I was told. Prince is everything to me; I knew that I could do whatever it took to get him back. I would never have believed I could fire a gun much less become proficient with it. I know that I am going to have to kill someone. Because of Prince, I am confident that when I am given the signal to murder I will fire my weapon.
The blackmailer informed me that the policeman would assist me in getting away after the shooting. I have always felt that I was a good person, and I know that I am in a bad situation having to do as I am told. Any mother would do the same as I am going to do to save her child.
Hopelessness floats around me like a cloud. My body is weary and tired. I am exhausted and beaten down. I believe Devon is supportive of me, and I desperately need to trust him as I fulfill the blackmailer’s demands.
The hoarse raspy threatening voice of the blackmailer instructed me to come to this park every morning and afternoon for over an hour. Part of the hour is to be spent walking the paths pushing the baby carriage and part is to be spent sitting on this specific park bench. I was told to check my watch so that my schedule is synchronized with his watch. Timing combined with signals is everything in this operation. The blackmailer repeatedly says, “Watch for the signal to murder, watch.”
My employer allows their employees to use flex schedules. I have arranged to use flex hours since being contacted by the blackmailer. I know my work assignments and have adjusted my hours accordingly.
I am not an outdoor person, and I am sick of all the pigeons messing on the sidewalk and sometimes on me. My heart aches for Prince, and I struggle to remain calm. With each passing day it is getting harder to keep myself from breaking down. My instructions are to not draw attention to myself, therefore I never engage anyone in unnecessary conversation anywhere, but most especially in Forest City Park.
That red dog over there is beautiful; he keeps watching me. I believe that the dog senses that I am on the verge of tears. He is extremely alert, and I feel that he senses something is wrong. As ordered, I deliberately avoid going near the dog and the old man.
Each day, I notice park visitors approach the man and dog. I have also noticed that these advances are not welcomed by either man or dog. The therapy harness on the red dog tells me that he is a trained animal. I do not think that the animal would bite me, but aside from my orders it only makes sense that I must not draw attention to myself by trying to pet the dog.
I check my watch again it is synchronized with the lunatic’s watch. It is Tuesday, April 14, 2009, and I can’t stand the pressure of not knowing how my baby is. I just cannot handle this anymore. I want to get this show on the road.
The Beast or El Sicko, as I have come to call my tormentor, seems all knowing. This sinister presence currently occupies every facet of my life. My whole being is sad about what I have to do, but I am ready to complete my task and move on with my life.
My situation is so terrifying and horrible. What I am expected to do is beyond my comprehension. When I rise from the park bench and begin to walk I can hardly keep moving, my legs are so weak. My tormentor is deranged; I know not to cross him. He is a sadistic devil who says he will torture and kill my son. I believe he would not hesitate to do that evil deed.
My gun is ready, and I will save my Prince. I have reconsidered everything that has transpired and as soon as I have Prince back I may have to deal differently with Devon. I suspect, but do not know for certain that Devon has been in collusion with Six. Six is the name for my blackmailer. When he told me his name he said, “Do not repeat the name Six to anyone, not anyone ever.”
I am certain Devon continues with his thieving ways. He told me that he was going to change, but he has not. I do not think that this could have happened to me or my baby without his willing or unwilling involvement in some way.
Despite Devon’s lifestyle I love him, but I love our son even more. We quite simply cannot move forward together without mutual trust in each other, especially if I confirm that he has been involved with Prince’s kidnapping.
At this time, I will not contemplate getting even with Six; I fear his evil intelligence far too much. I have the ability to shoot and kill Six if I can somehow manage to find out his true identity, but I simply cannot take a chance right now; Prince’s life hangs in the balance. I hope when my mission is complete that I never hear from Six again.
I check my watch and see the bus approaching, it is only one block away, right on schedule. I reassure myself that I will do whatever it takes to protect and save my son. Okay El Sicko let’s get this show on the road. I am ready to get this assignment over with and get on with my life, my life with my son and hopefully Devon.
Signal to Murder Page 5