CHAPTER SIXTEEN
By the time the morning sun breached the thinning clouds, Tom knew what he had to do. There was a connection between the house and the missing children, and he meant to learn what he could about them both.
When classes were over, he went to his office, sat at his desk and pulled up the internet. All he got was a message reading, ‘Unable to connect to Internet.’ He tried again, received the same message, and sat back in his chair perplexed and frustrated when there was a knock on his door.
“Come in.”
A member of the main office personnel opened the door. “Hey, Tom,” she greeted and walked in to place papers on his desk.
“Hey, Stacey.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look disgruntled.”
“I am. My internet’s not connecting.”
“It’s been disconnected. Didn’t you get the memo?” “What memo?” he asked.
She smiled and shook her blond head. “I emailed it personally to all staff members a month ago and then again last week.” When he only gave her a blank look, she chuckled. “Our system’s getting an upgrade. They began last night.”
“Damn.”
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
“No. I just wanted to do some research before I left.”
“The library’s system is up. It was upgraded over Thanks-giving while most of the students were gone.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” she said with a smile as she left his office.
Tom debated just going home to search on his own computer, then thought about the time that would be wasted sitting in rush-hour traffic. He pulled on his coat and made his way across campus.
A deafening hush fell against his ears as he entered the library. Thousands of books were all categorized and neatly shelved. The sprinkle of students who sat crouched over open books in the glow of desk lamps ignored him as he made his way to the woman sitting behind a long, curved desk.
Her straight brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing high cheekbones. She was an attractive woman in her own way with one startling feature. Her eyes were an extremely light blue around the black pupil rimmed by a thin dark blue ring. Long, thick lashes acted as a frame around a masterpiece.
She watched his approach. “May I help you?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
Tom smiled. “I hope so. I’m Professor Shear. I want to research a project I’m planning for my students, but the internet’s down on my side of the campus.”
“What kind of research? Maybe I can help you.”
“It’s a study on the mechanical mind structure of people who commit child homicides; particularly the kind preceded by abduction.”
“What sort of material do you need?”
“There’s a series of newspaper articles I’d like to start with.”
“Our system is up and running, so you’re welcome to use one of our computers. But for what you’re suggesting, if you know the time frame, you might want to try microfilm. I’m sure we’ll have what you’re looking for.”
“Yes, I’m sure you will,” he said. “The articles I’m interested in are fairly recent. They involve a series of child abductions that occurred sometime last year around this area. The problem is that I’m not exactly sure when the abductions started. I do know they involved young females and that the police were unable to come up with many leads as to who the abductor was.”
“I remember that,” she said. “I think they started sometime around the end of last year and continued through the first part of this year. But if it’s the one I’m thinking of, and I’m sure it is, you’re wrong about the police not finding the abductor.”
“What do you mean? I thought the case was unsolved.”
She stood, shaking her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “The police found the man responsible dead, with a confession. It made all of the major headlines.” She moved from behind the desk. “I’ll show you where you can find the articles you’re looking for and you can see for yourself.”
He followed her through a corridor of books into a room lined with unusually tall filing cabinets. As she scanned the labels on the drawers, he noted several viewing monitors along the far wall. A young woman, oblivious to their presence, was taking notes from one of the screens.
“Here we go.” The librarian extracted a roll of film. “You should find what you’re looking for on this.”
Tom followed her to a monitor and watched her insert the film. After giving him instructions on how to operate the system, she left him alone with his research.
He took off his coat and draped it over the chair beside him. Then he sat, took a deep breath, and forced his hand to the controls. He skimmed the pages until he caught sight of an accosting headline printed in big, bold letters. Goose flesh rose on his arms. Until now, his conclusions had been mere conjecture, but the unquestionable words on the screen wiped away any remaining doubts.
STILL NO LEADS IN SECOND
CHILD ABDUCTION
Vicki Martin, age 8, disappeared from Dillard State Park late last week only days after the abduction of Jennifer Miles, age 11, was reported. The fact that both girls disappeared from the same location gives credence to the speculation of a connection between the two events.
. . . continued, page 3.
Tom swallowed hard as two small faces, so familiar in his mind, caught his attention. As he stared at the pictures of Jenny and Vicki, he wept inside for the naïve smiles that had been eliminated. Suddenly, his overwhelming sadness turned to bitter rage as he tore his eyes away from the pictures to continue his search.
DILLARD ABDUCTOR CLAIMS
VICTIM NUMBER THREE
Police have increased security at Dillard Park after a third abduction in less than two months. Amanda Sawyer, age 10, was last seen entering the park Friday afternoon on her way home from Crammer Elementary School. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Sawyer, contacted the Cobb County Police later that evening to report her missing.
A search is still underway for 11-year-old Jennifer Miles and 8-year-old Vicki Martin. As of yet, the police refuse to comment on any leads. However, sources have revealed that police are investigating the strong possibility that this is the work of one man, now dubbed “The Dillard Abductor” by members of the press.
A reward is being offered by the families of the missing girls for information leading to the apprehension and conviction of the person.
. . . continued, page 2.
LITTLE GIRL DISAPPEARS
FROM SHOPPING MALL
No trace can be found of Julie Dobbs, age 9, who was abducted yesterday morning from the Westside Shopping Mall on Barclay Street. The Cobb County Police Department conducted a thorough search of the premises, but no leads were found. A connection between the Dillard abductions and this case is not suspected.
PANIC STRIKES AFTER FIFTH
ABDUCTION
Citizens of the Cobb County community are terrified for the safety of their children. Parents are keeping boys and girls alike close at hand, fearing they may become the next victim in a frightening string of abductions.
The latest victim is 12-year-old Caroline Doltry. She was last seen exiting her school bus early yesterday afternoon. The police have, as yet, reported no leads as to her whereabouts and have offered no other comment.
Tom’s eyes blurred against the screen as his hand dropped to his lap. He sat rigid in his chair as the horror of his confirmed suspicions sank to the pit of his stomach. Reluctantly, his hand returned to the monitor’s control. Searching from page to page, he almost flinched as the next bold headline leapt up to meet him.
HAS ANOTHER CHILD BEEN
ADDED TO THE LIST?
Rachael Porter, age 10, was reported missing yesterday by her mother, Ms. Janice Porter, when she failed to return home after attending a neighboring friend’s birthday party. A thorough search of the neighborhood and surrounding area was conducted, but no leads could
be obtained. The Cobb County Police Department made no further comment.
“SEARCH IS UNDERWAY,”
DETECTIVE SAYS
Police activity has reached a frenzied height after announcing the disappearance of Amy Monroe, age 9. She was last seen at her school bus stop early yesterday morning by neighbors who have come forward to be interviewed by police. During an early morning interview, the leading investigating officer, Detective Mark Winward, stated, “All I can tell you at this time is that a search is underway. I can not divulge any other information concerning this case for fear of compromising the ongoing investigation.” When asked if his last statement meant there might be a connection between the last six disappearances and this case, Detective Winward’s reply was, “No comment.”
. . . continued, page 4.
EIGHTH VICTIM SUSPECTED
The latest apparent victim of abduction is Kathy Packard, age 13. She was last seen leaving her home yesterday afternoon en route to Dillard Park to meet friends. When she failed to return home by the early curfew set by her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Packard immediately telephoned police.
After extensive interviews, the only comment officials made was that Kathy was apparently abducted shortly after leaving home that afternoon.
The Cobb County community is outraged over the apparent inability of the police to put a stop to the growing list of missing children. Even though numerous suspects have been held and questioned, no arrests have been made.
ABDUCTOR’S BODY FOUND HANGING
FROM RAFTERS
Early yesterday morning, police found the naked body of Mr. Theodore Chandler hanging by the neck in the attic of his rental property on Church Street in Marietta, with mutilating, self-inflicted wounds. Sources indicate a confession was found on the scene linking Chandler to at least four of the eight abductions that have occurred over the past six months.
Tom sat back in his chair, trying to take in what he had just read. “This can’t be happening,” he said.
But it is, a voice that was devoid of emotion whispered in his head. Seemingly of their own accord, his eyes returned to the screen and focused on the pictures of the four little girls. Pulling his eyes away, he continued reading.
Needless to say, the community is shocked by the outcome of this investigation. Chandler was a prominent businessman of Atlanta and surrounding cities. He was a respected citizen and leader in the community and was involved in numerous charities.
. . . continued, page 2.
Tom scanned the next page, reading Theodore Chandler’s impressive resume, then moved on to the next day. As he read, his thoughts swirled in confusion.
LITTLE GIRL’S BODY DISCOVERED
IN WOODED LOT
Late last evening, ten days after she was reported missing, the body of 13-year-old Kathy Packard, the latest victim in a series of baffling abduction cases, was found in a wooded lot off US Hwy 41 by police.
When interviewed, Detective Mark Winward, the lead investigating officer, admitted the body’s location was disclosed in the confession found at the suicide scene of Mr. Theodore Chandler. He would not comment on other evidence that might have been found on the scene. When asked about details concerning the victim’s cause of death, the only response given by Detective Mark Winward was, “No other statement will be issued until the coroner’s report has been received.”
Tom scowled. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said under his breath. “Why just the last victim? What happened to the other seven?”
“Tragic, wasn’t it?”
Tom’s heart lurched. His engrossed mind had failed to register the quiet steps of the librarian as she walked up behind him.
He flicked off the monitor and stood up. “Yes, it was.”
“Did you find everything you were looking for?”
“I think so.” He shrugged into his coat and looked at his watch. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”
Her smile was warm with understanding. “You’ve been at it for quite some time.”
“Yes,” he responded. “I appreciate your help.”
During the drive home along Interstate 75 North, Tom’s mind reeled with what he had read in the viewing room. It was hard to comprehend a man of Theodore Chandler’s caliber harboring the merciless killer instincts that were so grossly portrayed in the dreams he had experienced. He had been a man accepted in the most distinguished of circles. A man who had accomplished goals the average person could only imagine. How could such a man camouflage his true nature so completely? Well, I guess it was possible. Just think of the BTK killer in the seventies and eighties. He was admired and held a high position in his church. He had a wife and children. It took the police thirty years to catch him.
His brain was on automatic and he barely registered steering the Jaguar onto the Hwy 41/Marietta exit that would take him home. As he stopped for the red light in front of Kennestone Hospital, questions filled his mind.
If the abductor really was Chandler, then why were the police still investigating? Could there have been an accomplice? Or did they suspect more than one abductor? A copycat perhaps? Is that the reason they’re looking at me?
The sudden blast of a car horn snapped Tom’s bridging thoughts. He glanced up at the green light and pulled through the intersection. As he cruised past the immense structure of the hospital, one question pushed to the forefront of his mind with ominous clarity. Why wasn’t there any mention of Emmy? Where did she fit into all of this?
There are too many questions. Tom’s frustration peaked. Somehow I’ve got to find out more.
As an idea began to form, he looked at the dash clock illuminated in neon-blue. Taking a left turn, he drove over to the one-way street heading in the opposite direction. Once he was turned around, he pulled out his cell and scrolled for a number.
Three heartbeats later, Kelly answered. “Tom, hey.” He could hear the smile in her voice.
“Hey, sweetheart. Where are you?” he asked.
“I’m still at the office. You just caught me. I was about to leave.”
“Stay there, I’m on my way.”
“Why?”
“I need to see you, baby. I’m about five minutes away.”
There was a pause, then Kelly’s voice saying, “Alright. I’ll be waiting.”
“I’ll be there soon,” he promised before disconnecting. He pressed the accelerator.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It had grown dark and cold. The sickle moon played hide-n-seek behind a thick bank of clouds, adding to the darkness, and making it somehow complete. The only illumination came from storefront lights, streetlamps, and automobile headlights passing on Sandy Plains Road.
The RE/MAX real estate office, a brick, one-story building with dormer windows in a steeply pitched roof, could easily pass for an upscale residence. The parking lot was empty except for a Ford Expedition and Kelly’s white Lexus. Tom pulled into a parking space on the side and withdrew his key from the ignition. The dark hush caused a wave of memory to wash over him.
His small body flinched with each muffled slap coming from another part of the house. He knew the quiet would bring his father and he would be forced to stand naked, shaking with fear and humiliation. He had no doubt his father would find him, and his child-self quaked within the cloaking blackness of the closet.
A sharp rap on the window made Tom start. The unexpected memory had left him trembling and his heart pounded as he took a deep, steadying breath. His controlled expression revealed nothing as he stepped from the car.
“Are you alright?” Kelly asked, snuggling her chin into the collar of her coat.
“Sure. I’m fine,” he said.
“You were in another world. Were you thinking about Emmy?”
“Emmy, and other things. I’ve also been thinking of you,” he said, filling his hands with her soft coat lapel to draw her closer.
“Well,” she said, her face softening with pleasure. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” she asked, smiling. “You almost missed me, you know. I was on my way home.”
Tom heaved a sigh and caught the unmistakable smell of charbroil from the Burger King across the street. His stomach grumbled, but he ignored it knowing that he had inadvertently misled her into thinking that he had come here for the sole purpose of seeing her. Now he took a chance of pissing her off.
“I wanted to see you, please believe that. But I also need a favor,” he said, waiting for the hurt to show in her eyes. Instead, what he saw was probing curiosity.
“What kind of favor?” she asked.
“I need your file on my house.”
Kelly squinted at him with a look of suspicion.
“Please, Kelly. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
“If I do this, will you tell me why?” she asked.
Tom hesitated. “I can’t promise you that.” He watched a play of emotions cross her face. “Please, Kelly. I need your help.”
She studied his face a moment longer. “Oh, all right.” She turned back toward the office. “Just because I’m agreeing to do this, doesn’t mean I’m going to be satisfied until I know the reason why. You owe me for leading me on,” she chided over her shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled under his breath, not intending for her to hear.
“Uh huh,” he heard her say.
Tom knew enough to keep his mouth shut as he followed her clicking heels along the concrete sidewalk, up the steps and into the familiar reception area. The lights had been dimmed and the monotonous drone of a copier, thumping rhythmically in the otherwise quiet suite of offices, sounded oddly forlorn to his apprehensive ears. It smelled nice though, like they had one of those air freshener dispensers with a timer that sprayed a mist of scent every so often.
“Wait here,” Kelly said. “I’ll be right back.”
As she disappeared through a doorway, female voices drifted toward him over the noise of the copier.
Portrait of Rage (The Marcel Experience Book 1) Page 12