The Promise

by Patrick Hurley

  He is probably involved in pornography. This fuels his fantasy. His method of taking her would be more along the lines of guile or subterfuge rather than brute force.”

  Gallagher looked over at the Chief. “Guile works for me. There is no way he could have taken Allison Taylor by brute force with so many people around. But, I have a question at this point, how would a stranger get her into a car with everyone standing there? Especially, since she was such a smart girl?”

  Grady retorted, “She may have been a smart girl academically, but not necessarily street smart.

  As another sign of this kind of predator, he has past criminal offenses. He knows the ins and outs of human nature. He is someone who understands how to get people to believe him.”

  Gallagher was not convinced. “I just don’t understand how some guy could talk Allison Taylor into a car that quickly.”

  The FBI profiler further explained, “Detective Gallagher, do you remember the Oprah show when they had a professional con man convince teenage girls to leave the mall and come with him to his van on the premise he was a photographer who could make them famous as a model?

  Do you have any idea how many girls went with him willingly and quickly to that parking lot and allowed him to not only get them in his car but to close the door behind them?”

  Chief Parker nodded. “I remember that show, it was chilling.”

  Gallagher spoke up, “I have to concede there are gullible girls out there who can be coaxed, but in that case, the con man had time in the mall to pitch his case.

  But, this car seemed to drive up and snatch her on an open street in a matter of seconds. No previous discussion. No sales pitch. You’re telling me it was one stranger to another, and Allison is gone?

  How does someone fitting your profile accomplish that, special agent Grady? Tell me.”

  The FBI specialist paused as she thought through his question, “Well, detective, there are a number of possible scenarios here.

  First of all, he could have been stalking her. He could have seen her on campus that day and timed his arrival in the car to meet her as she was preparing to cross the street.

  He could have asked her for directions and when she leaned in, he could have grabbed her wrist and pulled a gun on her, telling her to keep quiet with all the people around and forcing her into the car.

  Or, she could have told him she liked his car, he could have been really good-looking and on a whim, they both decide to go for a drink.”

  Gallagher rolled his eyes again.

  “Another scenario would be that he did have previous discussions with her and when he pulled up, he introduced himself to her and got her into the car on one of several premises.”

  Gallagher remained cynical, “Such as?”

  “It could be anything as far-fetched as him being a car salesman who had met her on the lot and had promised to drive one of his models over to the campus.

  Or, he could have told her he was a priest, a pastor, a college dean of students, a television producer, the head of a model agency, a government official, a police officer, an insurance salesman, a friend of her father’s, a representative of the sorority she was pledging, anyone who would either make her feel safe, fill a need of hers or play to her ego.”

  “I suppose some of those identities would work.” Gallagher begrudgingly conceded.

  Grady pursed her lips firmly, “He just has to convince to enter the car within a few seconds. Do you have any scenarios, Detective Gallagher?”

  He smiled sardonically at her, “Not any good ones. That’s why my boss brought you in.

  I am having a difficult time imagining that Allison Taylor would be stupid enough to walk across a campus and just hop in a car with someone she has had no contact with. Unlike the girl in North Dakota who was forced to get in at knife point, this would have to be a voluntary situation.

  I feel like I know this girl already. I am in her head. She just isn’t the type to fall easily.”

  Chief Parker spoke up, “Special agent Grady, please excuse my detective’s cynicism. He has worked long and hard already on this case.

  Is it also possible that this stranger could have prepped Allison Taylor in advance and even arranged to meet her at that corner by the library so it would not have to be a totally random encounter?”

  She nodded in agreement, “Yes, possible. Remember, a predator is shrewd and has been doing this a long time. It would not be difficult for him to set up a situation with a teenage girl if he played his cards right.”

  Gallagher was conceding a little, “Well, in that case I could understand a clever approach, sure. But, that would not make him a total stranger, either.”

  Grady responded, “The profile is not perfect. I just gave you the parameters. The abductor could be a black female, 55 years of age, who knew the victim and the family very well and had no criminal background.

  I am just here to give you the general outline. There are exceptions, detective.”

  Parker again, “Who were the most effective predators your agency has ever seen, from a calculating criminal standpoint?”

  She laughed, “You mean, who is in our Hall of Fame of Shrewd and Lewd?”

  The Chief laughed, “Yeah, who are the superstars?”

  “Well,” she began, “You always have to start with the king of killers, Theodore Robert Bundy and his fake cast ploy. His good looks and charm certainly didn’t hurt him, either. Women fell all over him when he approached them for a favor. Unfortunately, the law enforcement authorities found most of them on a hillside months later.

  Then, there was John Wayne Gacy who used his contractor business to hire young boys to come work for him. He would often entice them to relax at his home after a long day of work and ply them with drugs and alcohol. Of course, we found a lot of them under that same house.

  Aileen Wuornos played the prostitute card to lure businessmen along the road and then shot them.

  Both the Green River Killer and the Hillside Stranglers sought out prostitutes and then killed them. In those cases, the women went willingly along because it was their profession to get into cars.

  “Most of those killers were older than your profile suggests,” countered Gallagher.

  “Yes, you are correct. But, most of their victims were older than eighteen years of age. The general rule is the younger the victim, the younger the predator. Remember, same race, approximately same age and usually a different gender, as in male predator, female victim.”

  “I don’t know,” sighed Gallagher, “I am still having trouble getting Allison Taylor into that car voluntarily if she did not know the kidnapper.

  Maybe someone came up behind her and stuck a gun in her ribs just as the car pulled up. A team could have done it quietly.

  If the predator acted discreetly, she might have acceded to that approach. Then, we would be looking for more suspects instead of just one.”

  Grady was not buying that argument, “That is a possible scenario, but if it were a team of kidnappers there would have been a ransom note.

  This was a kidnapping of passion, a removal of an obstacle or revenge, since there was no demand for money.”

  Gallagher asked, “A removal of an obstacle?”

  The profiler nodded, “Like the mob has to get someone out of the way to continue their business. They hire a hit man to remove the obstacle. Maybe Allison was in someone’s way here.”

  Gallagher summed it up, “This was not a voluntary disappearance and whoever took her does not want any money. I agree with you that this was for sex, revenge, passion, she was interfering with someone’s business or just plain cruelty.

  I know it. I feel it. I gotta go. Have a nice day.”

  With that, the homicide detective nodded to his boss and stormed out of the conference room leaving the other two participants to mutely stare at each other.

  Chapter Forty-two--a modern day Lazarus?

  “May I speak with the coroner, please?” queried an edgy Gallagh
er later that afternoon. “Yes, Mr. Sanders? This is Detective Mike Gallagher of the Athens Police Department. I am following up on a call I made to you a while back.

  I need some additional information concerning one of your former, uh, clients, a Mr. Malcolm Oden, excuse me, Mark Halverson, he died of a gunshot wound to the head.”

  “Yes, I’m familiar with you, it was about two weeks ago, I believe, detective,” the county employee answered. “How can I be of service to you, sir?”

  Gallagher pressed, “Well, can you tell me the condition of Mr. Halverson when you embalmed him?”

  “Yes,” Sanders politely responded, “He was dead.”

  “How dead?”

  “How dead, sir?”

  “Yeah, was he positively dead, Mr. Sanders?”

  “Ah, well, he was very dead, yes.”

  “So, he was dead, as in very dead?” confirmed the detective.

  “I’m not sure there are varying levels of dead, Mr. Gallagher. But, as far as dead goes, he was top of the line dead.”

  Gallagher wasn’t sure what else to ask the coroner. “Hmm, is there, uh, well, any chance you had the wrong dead guy?”

  The mortician was confused, “Wrong dead guy? What exactly do you mean, sir?”

  “Well, how do you know it was Halverson?”

  “We don’t know. The police department brought us a cadaver and said it was him. That would be your people, I believe. Maybe you should talk to them. I just embalm ‘em, I don’t interview them.”

  “But, the guy they brought to you was absolutely dead. You’re sure of that?”

  “Yes. If he wasn’t dead when he came in, he was after I got finished with him. We cut the body right down the middle and removed all the interior organs including the…”

  Gallagher looking down at his fried lo Mein with eggplant, “I get the picture. Thank you, Mr. Sanders. I’ll call you back if I need any other information.”

  Sanders wasn’t quite finished with his professional opinions, “His organs, except for his diseased liver, were in excellent shape, detective. He either had a defective liver or he was a boozer because that liver of his was pretty,”

  Gallagher had lost his appetite, “Gotta go!” gagged the detective.

  He hung up the phone more confused than before. Mumbling to himself,

  “Could Malcolm Oden be alive? Did he fake his death by, well, how could he possibly fake it? He shot himself, went down, the police found him and carted his corpse to the morgue. That leaves no margin for error?”

  He decided to call the officer responsible for bringing Oden’s body in that night. Scanning the police reports, he found his listing,

  “May I speak to Patrolman Winkleman, please?”

  After several seconds he heard a voice, “Winkleman, here.”

  “Patrolman, this is Detective Gallagher in homicide. I’m just following up on the incident involving the assistant headmaster who shot himself out in the woods two weeks ago. I assume you remember the incident since there haven’t been any other guys who have shot themselves lately in the area,”

  “Yeah, I remember. He was dead.”

  Gallagher pulled the receiver back and looked at it strangely. “Yes, Winkleman, of course, he was dead.”

  “Yep!”

  “So, he was dead and, uh, you brought him to the coroner, right?”

  “Well, the ambulance did, yes. But, I checked his pulse and everything, nothing there. So, we put a sheet over him and loaded him up and sent him on his way to the lab for final processing.

  Why are you asking, detective?”

  “I’m just doing routine follow up, in the event he wasn’t really dead…”

  “What?”

  “Well, I am looking into the possibility that this guy is still roaming the earth. The scenario would be that he was not totally dead when you found him, got into the ambulance and somehow between there and the hospital killed someone else, switched the body and then, this sounds crazy doesn’t it, Winkleman?”

  “With all due respect, detective, yes it does,” the officer agreed condescendingly. “I checked his identification.”

  Gallagher felt like a fool, “So, nothing out of the ordinary that night, huh?”

  “No, sir, just a guy with a gun in his hand, and a gunshot wound to his head. That’s it. And, a few freaked out college kids who had their date nights seriously disturbed. They are still alive, by the way.”

  “Okay, Winkleman. Thanks for the life and death byplay. Bye.”

  Hanging up the phone, he walked over to Chief Parker’s office. “Hi, boss, got a minute?”

  The Chief nodded, “What’s up, Mike?”

  “Well, it’s been an interesting six hours. I was at the memorial service today and I saw one of the mourners jotting down notes which I copied over his shoulder.”

  He showed the Chief the notes. “Abruptly, the guy left and all I got was his license plate. YGG145. When, I checked it out, the car registration belonged to a Malcolm Oden.”

  His boss responded, “He’s dead.”

  Gallagher finally laughed, “Yeah, that’s been made apparent to me all afternoon.

  So, if he’s dead, who’s the guy making these notes and driving his car?”

  As his boss studied the notes Gallagher made, he looked perplexed, “I don’t know, Mike. These notations are related to Odin’s mythological history. Odin only had one eye, it blazes like the sun. Grungir,, that is the name of his spear. The final battle was called, Ragnorak. It sounds like this fellow wants revenge on a murderer.

  But, who is the murderer and who is the one you saw writing down the notes. If Oden is dead, I mean, he is dead, who is this character?

  Maybe he is just some nut case.”

  “He is a nut case driving Oden’s Mercedes?”

  “Let’s check with the family. They might know who the guy is.”

  “Good idea. I’ll give them a call. Maybe I’ll wait a day.”

  “If Oden is really alive, wouldn’t that be something, huh?”

  “Yeah, boss, that would be a doozy. But, I don’t think it’s possible.”

  “Why not, Mike?”

  Gallagher laughed, “Because he’s dead.”

  Chapter Forty-three---Recollection

  “Elie, can you recall any other details the night Oden shot himself? It would really help here.”

  Gallagher and his partner were back in the conference room with all the evidence gathered thus far laid out on the table.

  “I remember running. I remember him breathing heavily behind me. I remember looking back and then, I don’t remember anything else. As far as earlier that night, I remember everything I want to forget, but I never will.

  So, how could he be alive, Mike?”

  Gallagher sat there stumped. “I can’t see any possible way he can be. I never saw Oden in the flesh,” he looked at a photo of the assistant headmaster, “And, this resembles the man I saw at the memorial service.

  They are both about the same age, though.”

  Elie reasoned, “Maybe he’s a relative, like a brother or a cousin? And, he’s angry that he lost two family members and was just venting Norsely.”

  “Norsely?”

  Elie laughed, “Yeah, that would be Norse in the adverbial venting sense.”

  The detective sat there thinking. Finally, he concluded, “It can’t be Oden I saw yesterday. No way. If he killed someone in the ambulance and substituted the body for his, we would have known about it. All those paramedics know each other. There is no way.”

  “Maybe he didn’t switch with one of the ambulance drivers, Mike?”

  “Well, who else could he have killed and switched with then? He was not exactly lying there alone with all the time in the world was he? There were people all around him!”

  “What if he made the switch before he shot himself that night. After I passed out and before the police and the witnesses found his ‘body.’ Isn’t that possible?”

  “Wait a minute,�
� Gallagher threw his hand up in the air,

  “You’re suggesting that he chased you until you slammed into a tree and while you lay there comatose, he killed someone else, substituted the body, put the gun into his hand and ran off into the woods to join Elvis as a co-manager of a 7/11 in Michigan until he shows up at the funeral service?”

  “Not exactly, Mr. Smarty Man. He could have killed the body earlier and then brought it out of the woods and made the switch.”