by Wren, John B
“I know what you mean, but let me suggest that we take a quick look at it, and then we talk, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Can I have the keys?”
Tom had a mechanic take it for a spin and drive it into the shop for a peek under the hood. When he returned with the keys and a printout, Tom led Averell into his office. They sat down and Tom looked at the report. “Averell, you do not need a new car. I am more than happy to sell you one, but this SUV is in beautiful condition and it’s got a lot of miles left in it. It’s your call.”
“Tom, I really appreciate that, but as I said, I think I ready to change.”
“Okay, do you have anything in mind?”
“I was considering getting a sedan again, but I’m open.”
“Let’s look at what we have here,” and Tom led Averell out to the show room.
They looked at vans, sedans, SUVs and even trucks and Averell came back to the sedan and minivan several times.
“I think we have it down to one of these two,” said Tom. “Dave, come here a minute.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Walters.”
“Dave, bring one of these sedans up front, I think Mr. Danker would like a test drive.”
“You got it,” and Dave disappeared into the finance office. A few
minutes later Dave pulled up in a dark blue sedan like the one Averell was looking at. “Keys are in the ignition,” said Dave as Tom and Averell went outside to the car.
“Averell, take her for a ride, take your time, I have a number of calls to catch up on so, let’s say you are back here in an hour and we can continue.”
“An hour?”
“Sure, you spend a lot of time on the freeway, so that’s where you
should check it out.”
“Okay,” and he drove off the lot toward the freeway.
“This is nice, smooth, big back seat, big trunk.”
“Yeah, nice, we should do this one.”
“I think so,” and he headed back to the dealership.
He was back in less than an hour and Tom came out of his office,
“Well whatta’ ya think Averell?”
“I think we like it.”
“We, is there a Mrs. Danker?”
“I mean, I like it and no, there’s no Mrs. Danker.”
“Hey, what about me?”
“Okay, let’s pick out the right color, and combination of options for you.”
“I like this one, it drove real nice, has the things I like in it. Can I take this one?”
“Let’s look at the paperwork on this one and get you a number. I gotta’ tell you, this one has a lot of goodies included.”
“Yeah, but I like it.”
“So do I.”
“We, I mean I, think this is the one.”
“Okay, give me a coupla’ hours to clean and prep and get the papers in order.”
Averell drove his SUV down the road to a fast food place and had lunch. “That was easy.”
“Yeah, we are gonna’ be lookin’ sharp today, nice new buggy.”
All said and done two hours later Averell was driving his new car and the monthly payments were less than the previous vehicle’s. “Yes sir, we are sharp.”
The rest of the summer passed without incident. Averell was doing quite well financially and the new car was proving to be a wise investment. He fed it the higher grade of gas and made sure the oil was changed regularly and it got it’s thirty thousand mile check-up in December and the sixty thousand mile check-up in June of 1994. On several occasions, Averell passed by Ellie’s town home. He noted her car and Steve’s truck frequently. “They must be getting along.”
“They deserve each other.”
“I wonder about Sarah. If he sees her as his daughter, or is he thinking of her in other ways?”
“Maybe both.”
“Now that’s sick, I don’t think he’s like that.”
“We should watch, and be sure.”
“Yeah, maybe a little. And if he is, then, well, then we should do
something.”
“We would do Steve ?”
“Maybe, first we watch, then we decide.”
“Yeah, we watch.”
* * *
Jim McClarry scanned the morning newspaper on a daily basis, looking for anything that may increase his data base. There were several missing children reports each month and he recorded each one in the data base as he found them. His sources were limited, but he was persistent and the data base was growing, but still no definitive connecting factors. The missing persons and murder cases were scattered around the country. Maybe this is a waste of time he thought. “Oh well, what else am I gonna’ do?” Frustrating, but that was what detective work was, frustrating, until one little piece of something adds to another and then it grows. Piece by piece, it starts to come together. Then, if you are lucky, evidence and irrefutable proof are added to the mixture and a case is built, arrests can be made and it goes to trial. Bingo, a job well done.
The day following her disappearance, Jim found an article about a missing girl in Indiana and added Kathy to the map. He now had a line that went from Goshen Indiana to Cleveland Heights to McKean to Syracuse, New York. Interstate 90, interesting, very interesting. This could be what Alex was talking about. One little piece that ties the others together. Time to visit with Dr. Robertson.
Jim shook his head and said aloud, “Okay, Jimmy boy, stop yer dreamin’ and let’s get this day started.” He stood up and grabbed a notebook that he had been keeping and walked out of his apartment. If he hustled, he would not be late for work, it was a brisk walk only two blocks away and with a little jog in the middle, he was on time.
“Sean, you said if I ever come up with something, I should take it upstairs,” said Jim “show it to the D’s, well, I think that I may have something.”
“Yeah, you got something?”
“Maybe, and maybe not. Let’s take a walk upstairs.”
They went up to the detectives offices and caught the captain. Sean called across the squad room “Hey George, you got a minute?”
“For you guys, all day,” he said sarcastically, but with a grin. “Come on in. What can I do for ya’?”
“You guys know that Annette Shelton is my cousin?” said Jim.
“Yeah, and Sean is also related. I figured that it had to do with Annette when I saw both of you. And I have had several conversations with Alex, seems as though he thinks we should revisit the neighborhood.”
Jim stepped closer, “Look, I don’t want to screw anything up, so I do my thing just with stuff in the papers and what I catch on the internet. And I may have something.”
“Okay, so let’s see it,” said George.
“Yeah, let’s see it,” said Sean.
Jim opened his note book and flipped a few pages, “I’ve been tracking any and every kid gone missing that I see in the media. These four kinda’ stick out. The interesting thing is Interstate 90. In ninety one, Annette in Cleveland Heights; in ninety two, Candice Brighten in McKean, Pennsylvania; in ninety two again, Megan Norris in Syracuse, New York; and in ninety three Kathy Callen in Goshen, Indiana. All along Interstate 90. It may be nothing, and you guys may already have seen this but, well Alex told me that the smallest thing could be important, so I had to say something.”
“Jim, first, never hesitate to bring stuff up here and second, no, we did not have this. You did this at home, from the news papers and the internet?”
“Yeah.”
“Good work, and you’re not supposed to be doin this, but I’m not
gonna’ tell you to stop. That door is never locked,” said George pointing at the squad room door.
“I’m gonna’ get outa’ the way now,” said Jim.
“Okay, when you see something else, you better be back up here. By the way, Alex will be in this afternoon, so why don’t you stop back around four?”
“I’ll do that.”
“We’ll do that,” added Sean.
“Okay guys, see you at four.”
Sean and Jim were a little late getting on the road and the sergeant was not happy with that.
“Aw come on Jeff, how many times have I been late? And little Jimmy has never been late even once, so don’t push.”
“Well what was that all about?”
“Annette.”
“Alright Sean, but let’s not make this a habit.”
“Okay, we are meeting with George and Alex at four today and that’s it.”
“Why, did the D’s come up with something?”
“Jim may have something, we’re going to see.”
“This afternoon, okay, check in at three thirty and get your paperwork done and the rest of the day is yours.”
They came off at three, did their paperwork and were upstairs at four. Alex was in his usual office and Jim went directly to him.
“Little pieces, eh Doc. I found something and then I noticed something else.”
“Jim, let’s get George in here and run the whole thing.”
“I’m ready when you are Alex.”
The group assembled in Alex’s office, and Jim laid out his papers.
“What I noted today is that the four disappearances have occurred along interstate ninety. If this is one guy, he’s a traveler. The four sites are Cleveland Heights, Ohio, McKean, Pennsylvania, Syracuse, New York and now Goshen, Indiana. All along the interstate ninety corridor. Could be a trucker.”
“As I recall the description from Mrs. Simpson, he was well dressed, and driving a van,” said Alex.
“Right, so the next option is a traveler, like a salesman,” said Jim.
“That works,” said George. “Now we have to identify a salesman with a blue van, who has been in all four locations on the days in question. Good luck with that.”
Alex looked at Jim, “You said you noticed something.”
“Yeah, three of the girls are blond with blue eyes.”
“Interesting,” said George.
“All three were wearing white shoes and blue shorts.”
“More interesting,” said Alex.
“All taken mid week, between three in the afternoon and eight in the evening.”
“Anything else?” asked George.
“No, that’s it.”
“That’s a lot Jim. That’s good, now what can we do with this information?”
“I don’t know, that’s why God made detectives, now Sean and I can hit the streets again and leave this in your hands.”
“Okay, first let’s kick this around. This is a what if session.” said
Alex.
“What’s that?”
“Well Jim, what if there is more than one bad guy out there?”
“Then, I split the victims three and one. The three blond girls with eyes, shoes and shorts to match on one team and the other girl on another team.”
“Right, now what does that tell you ?”
“His targets are specific, like he sees the same person in each of them.”
“That’s a maybe, a strong maybe, very strong.”
“Then who is the person that he sees in each of the girls?,” asked Alex.
“An old girlfriend, a sister, the daughter of somebody, I don’t know.”
“So do you think that he is constantly killing the same person, or setting the real target up so that she fits into a group when he kills her?”
“People do weird things and this bogey is no exception. He could be killing the same person over and over, and I am going to assume that she is still alive because the victims are getting older as he moves along. He may be prepping a kill for her or he could be doing this and never intending on killing the central person. There is no way of knowing until we get more information.”
“Well we have something that we did not have yesterday, that’s good,” said George.
* * *
June passed into July and Averell thought more and more about Sarah and Ellie. He at one moment wanted to abandon caution and planning and do them both and then not. Almost on a daily basis, decisions were made that allowed them to continue to live. Averell was in constant turmoil over his hatred for Sarah and Ellie and his want to be safe.
“We should have taken her and Ellie.”
“If we did they would suspect us, that we cannot afford, yet.”
“When will we be ready?”
“Not yet, maybe soon, but not yet.”
“I want to do them now, how will it get any better than now?”
“We have to perfect our procedure. When we do it to them, it has to be perfect.”
“It will be perfect, the next one will be better, then maybe then we will be ready.”
“The next one, yes, the next one.”
* * *
In October of that same year, a twelve year old girl was kidnapped at knife point from her home in California. The search for this girl involved thousands of people and both local and national media coverage and her body was found after about four months. As it happened, the individual eventually captured, tried and convicted of her murder had been sought by the California Highway Patrol for an unrelated parole violation at the time of the abduction. Even though he was the subject of an APB by the Highway Patrol, he eluded capture for a period long enough for him to commit this act and even walk away from an encounter with a local police group after a minor traffic violation. This case brought to the national stage a problem experienced in this and undoubtedly many other cases. Communication between law enforcement groups needed improvement. Different localities and different agencies were not always in communication with one another.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
You mean we need another victim . . .
The summer of 1994 required some changes. Averell drove past the farmhouse hoping that it would still be available. As he approached the site, a pick-up truck was pulling out of the driveway with a realtor’s name on the side. He approached slowly and saw several people standing in the area outside the barn discussing something. He wondered if it had sold and kept on driving.
“No sense even starting a conversation. If it has sold, then it’s gone, if not, it’s getting too much attention. Hmmm, I wonder if there are any traces of our activity in the barn.”
“May well be, and we were in the house, did we leave anything there?”
“I don’t think so, I’m sure we did not.” He continued down the road for a few miles when he noticed a dirt road off to the left. “I wonder what’s down there.”
“One way to find out.”
“Yeah, let’s check this out.”
He turned on to the dirt road and drove about a quarter mile. The
road entered a wooded patch and turned to the left about a hundred yards from the main road and then turned back to the right. He was moving away from the main road and there was nothing but trees and a few open areas. The road ended in an opening where several vehicles had parked recently. He got out and walked around looking at the trees and trying to see what was in the woods and beyond. He walked in a circle around the clearing where there were tire tracks and saw a darkened spot on the ground. A dark brownish color, dried blood. What was this place? He continued looking around for a few minutes when he saw a pick-up pull into the clearing. The driver wheeled his truck around and backed into a position facing the road. He cut the engine and got out of the truck.
“Hey, good mornin’,” he said. “You here fer the crows?”
“Ah, well, I was just looking to see what it’s like in here.”
“Hey, yer from New York, the city?”
“No, closer to Buffalo, near the Pennsylvania border.”
“M’name’s Phil, pleasure meetin’ ya. Some good huntin’ up that’a way in New York, what brings you down here?”
“Oh, my name is Al, Al Davis, I’m here on business, and I have family in Cincinnati, so I drive by a lot.”
“You got you a Ohio huntin’ ticket, Al?”
�
��Ah, no, no not yet.”
“Hell, neither do I,” he said with a laugh, “been comin’ out here fer more’n twenty years, never had one. Hell, they don’t care, long as you bag a bunch o’ them crows. Don’t have a fishin’ ticket neither and that stream yonder has some good eatin’ swimmin’ aroun’ in it.”
“Well, I don’t want to be in your way, so I’ll just be moving on.”
“Oh hell, yer not in my way, I’m probably in yer’s. I only got an hour or so and I gotta’ git a go on, git my butt back home. Live ‘bout five mile south down the road.”
“How often do you get over here?”
“Lucky if I make it once a month any more, safe as hell here, nobody fer miles, I’m the only one comes this time a year, all them others is only after deer, you know, bow an’ arrow stuff, that starts in September some time. That’s when I jus’ stay away all together. Them bow people is goofy, probably think I got a white tail an’ be pitchin’ arrows at my butt.”
“So nobody would be here after you leave ‘til September?”
“Nope, nobody. You wanna’ bag a deer off season, this is the perfect place. I got one last week. Hey I gotta’ go, git me a bunch a them damn crows. See ya.” and he disappeared into the woods with his shotgun.
Averell looked around for another few minutes and was getting in his car when he heard Phil get off two rounds. The sound was dulled by the trees. Averell rolled down all his windows and drove to the edge of the woods, still not visible from the road. He listened for twenty minutes and thought he heard a few more shots from Phil’s shotgun, but the sound was very faint. He smiled and drove out to the main road and paused. There was no traffic from either direction and he was sure Phil was still shooting at crows, but he heard nothing. Again he smiled and turned south on the road.
“That was very interesting.”
“Yes it was.”
“We could use this place all summer.”
“Let’s see what happens next time we are here. ”
“I am ready.”
“I know you are.”
On Tuesday, July 19, that summer Allison Kinsey, a thirteen year old girl, was by herself at a park in Elyria, Ohio. She was sitting on a bench about twenty feet from the street. Averell noticed that she was wearing a light blue blouse and denim shorts. She had blond hair and blue eyes and was swinging her feet below the bench seat as if she was waiting for someone. Averell pulled up and parked. He got out and walked past her as if he was looking for somebody. He paced back and forth a number of times and returned to his car, stood there looking around and repeatedly looking at his watch. It was 3:40 in the afternoon. Allison saw him and wondered to herself what he was looking for. He looked very unhappy. Averell noticed that she was watching him and he paced some more. She continued to watch. Averell noted that nobody else was around, there was no traffic, this was his moment. He opened his trunk and took out two pull ties and a cloth balled up on a piece of tape. He left the trunk partially open and walked quickly toward the girl. There was no preliminary talk, he quickly grabbed her, stuffed the cloth in her mouth and pushed the tape against her cheeks. He grabbed her arms and put the pull tie over her hands and pulled tight. Then he picked her up and pushed the lurching girl in his trunk where he struggled to grab her ankles and got the other pull tie over her feet and pulled it tight.