by Wren, John B
The children were confused, but sensed nothing sinister. They assumed that she had stopped at one of the houses they had already passed. When Emily did not come home and her mother began to look for her, Averell already had her on the road to the Finger Lakes wooded area where he had had a session with Barbara the year before. His session with her was not as he had envisioned it. Emily was not complying with Averell, she was terrified and in a state of shock. Averell put the first probe in her arm to convey the thought of the pain that was to follow. He placed his second probe on her belly a little to the left and slowly pushed it into and through her thin gasping body. The pain was extreme, but she only cried softly. As the tears rolled down her cheeks, Averell positioned the next probe on her thigh. He pushed and she cried louder. The fourth probe was placed on her neck. He held it there for a few minutes, looking in her eyes, then he pushed. She stopped crying, her eyes did not blink, did not tear and she did not breath. Her death was attributable to all four probes unequally.
One of the probes entered a main artery in her arm and these, combined with the sheer terror she was experiencing, caused her heart to fail. She, like Rebecca before her, mercifully died before Averell could induce the pain he had planned.
Her disappearance was reported in the local news that evening and an “Amber Alert” was issued. Pleas for her safe return were issued and the parents were dragged in front of the cameras and asked if they thought that she was still alive. People lit candles and sang songs. They made signs and gave speeches. Averell did not notice, he did not have the news turned on, his car CD player was playing one of his favorite soft rock CDs. The music was quiet and soothing, a peaceful melody that was meant as background sound for a social gathering where there were numerous conversations happening at once.
Emily died almost as quietly as Barbara, she was another, almost religious experience. As he dismembered her body and placed the pieces in the usual three bags, Averell thought about Sarah. He wondered if she would die as well. “Soon we will know, we are almost ready for them.”
As he worked digging her grave, Averell thought about Sarah and Ellie, “Yes almost ready for both of them.” The grave for Emily was near Barbara’s, the process of putting her in the grave and using stones near the top was intended to discourage animals from digging her up and spreading her bones around the neighborhood. After completing his task and swimming in the stream to cleanse himself, he packed all the bloodied clothes that he had rinsed in the stream and drove to a nearby coin operated laundry. After washing everything twice with bleach and drying, he loaded the clothes into several plastic bags and started for home. Each Salvation army drop off box that he passed was a receptacle for a portion of the clothes. By the time he reached his town house, there was no trace of Emily or his session with her.
Averell had wanted Emily to go further in this session than she did and he was disappointed, but he remained very controlled, very calm, as if nothing had happened. He was planning for Sarah and Ellie, and this was another step in that direction. While watching the television and thumbing through the newspaper that evening, he paid no attention to the coverage of Emily’s disappearance. Stelian was unusually quiet, Averell was unusually controlled. He fell asleep for the night, sitting in a chair in front of his television.
* * *
On Wednesday, Jim McClarry added Emily and her information to his growing data base. She like the others before her simply disappeared. No witnesses, no trace. The difference was the location. Averell had redefined the territory that he used to hunt his prey. It now extended from Goshen, Indiana to Schenectady, New York. There had been one abduction each summer since Annette initially disappeared and now there were seven. He talked to Vince about it every day, constantly revisiting the information.
“Damn it, Vince why doesn’t this guy leave a clue?”
“He is just as lucky as he is smart,” said Vince “And he is very lucky.”
“What if he stops, I mean just stops and never does it again? How will we find him?”
“We probably won’t, you have to be ready for that. Right now, as far as we know, he does one girl every summer. So he struck again this year and we now have to wait until next year for the next bit of information and if he moves on, away from here, how would we know?”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
“I know Jim, why don’t you go on home and I will finish up our report. Take that wife of yours to dinner, enjoy the evening and we will hit it again in the morning.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna’ do that.” Jim went back to his desk and picked up the phone, “Hey babe, don’t start dinner, I want to take you out tonight, okay, I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“See you in the morning Vince.” As Jim was walking toward the stairs, George came around the corner from the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee, “Half day, eh McClarry?”
“Hey boss, I’m takin’ my wife to dinner, gonna’ get a good night’s sleep and be back here, refreshed, in the morning.”
Vince called out to George, “In here George, I’ll give you the latest.”
George turned and went into the conference room. Jim went down the stairs and out to his car.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Do you care as long as we get to see her die . . .
A year passed, Averell remained very calm, controlled and quiet during that time. He went about his business, traveling from Albany to Toledo, visiting his clients and expanding his number of contacts. Stelian remained similarly subdued and Averell did not visit any residential neighborhoods.
Then on a Wednesday in July, before the holiday in 1998, a six year old girl was abducted from her neighborhood in Findlay, Ohio. Carol Denton’s body was found by a search dog on the Sunday following her disappearance. Her little body had been senselessly abused by someone and she had been strangled and deposited in a field several miles from her home.
At the time of Carol’s abduction, Averell was in Albany closing a deal with an old client and ready to drive back to Rochester for the holiday weekend. He did not hear about this incident until he read a brief article in the Rochester newspaper on Monday detailing the discovery of her body the day before. It did not interest him. He read the article and moved on to the sports page. Jim also read an article about Carol and he added her to the data base. Her hair, eyes and clothing did not match up and she was not part of the prime group, but as he well knew, she could still be one of the predator’s victims.
A week later, Averell was in the Syracuse area visiting a client in a mall when he noticed a woman with blond hair walking with a little girl, perhaps two years old. As he watched her, he was reminded of Sarah. He paused and thought for a moment and realized that Sarah would be about twenty five now and could well be married and a mother. He looked again at the young woman as she held on to the child and walked away from him. His mind began to work, “Was that Sarah, did she have a baby, where was Ellie, who was the father, where was Steve, I have a lot of questions.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Not now,” and Averell walked out of the mall and to his car.
“So, what’s wrong? Do you think that was Sarah, with a baby?”
“I don’t know.” Averell started the car and drove out of the parking lot. He turned north and started to accelerate.
“Whoa, slow down buddy, we don’t want to get a ticket or worse, crash.”
Averell slowed and continued down the street. He turned into another lot and stopped. “Gotta’ think.”
“Just where are we going? This is the way to Ellie’s place. We haven’t been there in a long time, about a year. Is it time to check on her again?”
“Yeah, let’s just drive by and then we will go home.”
“Okay, but maybe we don’t just drive by. Maybe we hang around and see what’s going on.”
“Yeah, maybe we do just that.” Averell drove to Ellie’s town home and stopped across the street and down a few house
s. He waited. He waited for two hours when a silver coupe pulled into the driveway. It was Ellie, she went into the house and Averell was thinking about what he would do next when a pick-up truck pulled up in front of the house. Steve got out and half jogged up the stairs, opened the door and went in.
“Still together, that’s amazing.”
“Yeah, amazing, I wonder where Sarah is, if she is still with them.”
“We should go now, been sitting here for a coupla hours and that could draw attention.”
Averell started the car and drove away, passing the house and continuing down the street. “Maybe we’ll come back later and see if anybody else shows up.”
“Like Sarah?”
“Yeah, like Sarah.” and he continued to drive. He went about four blocks and pulled into a small strip center and entered a coffee shop. A few minutes later he was back in the car with a cup of overpriced coffee and a muffin. He sat there for an hour sipping the coffee and picking at the muffin.
“Well what do you want to do now buddy?”
“I want to push a probe through her throat and watch her eyes as the blood comes out of her mouth and she dies.”
“Okay, let’s do it.”
“Could we do it and not be suspected?”
“Do you really care if we are suspected? Do you care if we are caught? Do you care as long as we get to see her die?”
“See them die, both of them.”
“And Steve, what about Steve?”
“I don’t care about him anymore, but I want them to die.”
“Let’s check on them again and then we should start planning.”
Averell started the car and drove to Ellie’s house. There was another silver coupe in the driveway. He stopped the car and watched for about an hour when a young woman came out and got in the second coupe and drove away.
“That’s her, that’s Sarah.”
“She still looks the same. Lets follow her see where she goes.”
She drove about fifteen minutes and pulled into an apartment building parking lot, got out and went in the main entrance. Averell watched for a minute and was about to get out and check when Sarah came out and got in her car. She pulled out of the lot.
“We should follow her.”
“No, we should check the mail boxes, see if she lives here.”
“Yeah, you’re right, “ Averell got out of the car and walked to the
entrance. He looked at the mail boxes, there she was, S. Danker, Apartment 205.
He noted the address and went back to his car. “Got it, now let’.”
“Now, let’s go home and figure this thing out.”
“Yeah,” He started the car and drove away.
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTY
They will find her . . .
The next few weeks were very busy for Averell. The new school year coming in September meant a lot of supplies, needed or not, would be purchased and part of his job was making sure that there was plenty of supplies, of the right kind, in the stores. On Tuesday, August 11, 1998 Averell was once again passing through Cleveland Heights and the memory of his encounter with the little girl in the pink shirt seven years earlier, stirred within him. He wanted to find another subject.
“Are we ready for this?”
“I think we are, don’t you?”
“Let’s be sure, are the woods still safe?”
“We should go and check it out. We could find a site and dig a hole.”
“Okay, I see, then what?”
“Then I want to get a newspaper and check the obituaries, we need a ‘Plan B’, just in case something goes awry, then we go back to Cleveland Heights. I really like that neighborhood.”
“Are we house hunting?”
“Maybe we are, I haven’t decided. But it would be great.”
He was driving south and east and looked at the sky, “What a beautiful day.”
“Not a cloud to be seen, will it last for a few days?”
Averell turned on his radio to the ‘weather and traffic’ station for the Cleveland area. As he turned on to 271 south, the reporter said that the weather for the next three days was going to be clear and warm with temperatures reaching the low eighties, cooling to the low seventies at night.
“It doesn’t get much better than that.”
He took 480 east through Twinsburg toward Portage county. He got off at state route 44 and turned toward the wooded area where he would dig a hole in preparation for the subject of the day. When he arrived, nobody was in sight, “Perfect, absolutely perfect.” Averell dug a hole, keeping the removed dirt close and covered it with brush just in case someone else showed up. Finished, he was wiping his hands clean and walking toward his car when he remembered his shovel. As he turned and looked back, his eyes scanned the area and finally caught the orange paint on the shovel handle. It was leaning against a tree next to the pit. “Ah, well now it’s a marker for me when I come back, soon.” He laughed and turned toward his car again.
“Hey, the shovel .”
“Leave it, we will be right back.” And he got into his car and drove out to the roadway. As he was about to head back into Cleveland Heights, Averell stopped for a fast food dinner. A burger, fries and a milk shake. He also bought a ‘Cleveland Plain Dealer’ from a news stand outside the restaurant. As he sat in his car starting his dinner and browsing the obituaries he muttered, “Nutritious.”
“And the other thing?”
“Delicious.” Then he saw what he was looking for, a funeral would be held at St. Michaels Church, today, “Cool, now then,” he read on, “The Interment will be at Alton Memorial Park, hey we have been there, that is where we put the first one, what was her name? That is a perfect plan ‘B’.” He was excited, everything was coming together, the day was beautiful, the site was prepared, the alternate route was defined, now all he needed was a subject.
Along with his “delicious and nutritious” meal, came a bumper sticker that, if read by the right observer, could earn him one hundred dollars. He found this amusing and while sitting in the parking lot, it occurred to him that his car could be identified as a blue sedan, 4 years old, and other specifics. If, however he had a huge dent in his rear bumper, that may be the main identifier. He thought about putting several “Loud” bumper stickers on his bumper now and he would remove them after he was clear of his abduction site.
“A test, we need a test.”
“Yes, why?”
“We will try it with this sticker and if it works well, we will get more stickers.”
He peeled the backing off of the ends of the sticker exposing only about a quarter of an inch of adhesive at each end. “This will hold till we get free and then the sticker comes off.”
“I like that, we give them something to look at, then take it away.”
He adhered the sticker to his bumper, drove back to Cleveland Heights and slowly cruised the streets in a neighborhood near the one he had visited in 1991.
As he rounded a corner, he saw a perfect target. Melissa Winton had blond hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a pink top, blue denim shorts and white tennis shoes. She was with several other people and Averell drove as far away as he could and still see the group of teenagers. He parked and waited and watched. He sat in his car for an hour when finally the group broke up and dispersed. Averell planned on using the “I’m looking for my mom’s new house” approach and he had a piece of paper with some writing on it. He noted that Melissa was turning on a street two blocks away. He started his car and drove around the block so he would intercept her at an intersection a block from where she turned. He drove toward that intersection and parked about two houses away, got out and with paper in hand he approached the corner.
Melissa turned the corner and was coming in his direction. He turned and walked slowly toward his car. Nobody was in sight except Melissa. This was working perfectly. He paused next to his car and turned. Again, perfect, he bumped into Melissa.
“Oh my goodness,
please excuse me, I am so lost, I didn’t mean to
bump you, Are you okay?”
“Oh yes, I’m fine, are you okay?”
“No, I can’t find my mom’s new house. Do you know what street this is?”
“Yes this is Calverton, and up there—.”As Melissa turned to point toward the street where she had just turned, Averell quickly opened the back door of his car, grabbed Melissa and threw her in. He was instantly on top of her, with the gag and the pull ties.
Once secured, he closed the door, got in the front seat and drove around the corner. As he turned, two people passed him and waved. Averell returned the wave with a smile and kept on driving.
“Nicely done, Mr. Danker.”
“Why thank you my friend.”
Fred turned and looked after the passing car and said to his wife, “Who was that?”
Angie replied, “I have no idea,” and she also turned and looked at the car.
They both saw the car, it drove right past them, but they could not
agree on the color, make, model or license plates, just that it had “One of those WJ— something stickers that’ll win ya a hundred bucks.”
Averell stopped at the next corner and turned to look at Melissa. She was struggling to get up on the seat and he turned an slapped her hard and said, “Stay down or I will hurt you.”
“You should be nice to our guest.”
“I’ll be nice when we get there.”
“Ah, yes, that will be good.”
Averell got out of the car and walked to the rear bumper and pulled the sticker off and got back in. He drove toward Cedar Road and said, “Yes. I really do like this neighborhood. Maybe we should move here in a few months.”