“Excellent. Does she know anything?”
“Yes. She said she would do a description for a sketch. Can you get someone over here?”
“I’ll make the call.”
“Thanks.”
Jason hung up and returned to the room. A nurse was there checking on the girl and took the tray away.
Jason sat back down. “We have a sketch artist coming. Are you feeling okay to do it?”
“I guess. Can you call Brooke for me?”
“Absolutely.”
Jason put down his pad and looked the number up in his phone. He dialed and Brooke answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Brooke, this is Detective Strong.”
“Hi.”
“I’m sitting here with a friend of yours, perhaps you remember her?” Jason smiled and Stephanie managed a little smile herself.
“Steph…Is she awake?”
“Yes. Would you like to talk to her?”
He handed the phone to Stephanie and left the room. His questioning could wait a few minutes.
When he returned to the room, Stephanie was off the phone, her eyes red from crying. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem. You okay for a few more questions?”
“I think so.”
Jason returned to his chair and retrieved his phone. Pad open, he looked up at Stephanie. Normally, if he had his pad open, Vanessa would be asking the questions. He forced himself to focus.
“Do you know where he took you?”
“No. Some house. It was a mess.”
“Can you describe the outside?”
“Not really. It was dark and he blindfolded me after we left the Presa Street area.”
“What about the house inside? Anything specific about it?”
“Yeah. The room.”
“What room?”
“A bedroom. White walls with a blacked out and barred window. A mattress in the middle and a closet at the far end….”
She paused and appeared to be steeling herself for what she had to say next. “….He made me take off my clothes and hang them in the closet. There were other girl’s clothes hanging in there.”
“Can you describe the clothes?”
“I guess. Normal stuff, except for the uniform. 7-11, I think.”
Marcie Walker’s uniform. “Anything else about the room?”
“The writing.”
“Writing?”
“All over the walls. Different colors. The same thing over and over.”
“What did it say?”
“I will never call you bloodstain again….he made me write it on the walls, too.”
“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”
“I will never call you bloodstain again.”
Jason looked up at her. Tears rolled down her face. He couldn’t conceive the horror each girl must have felt. Naked, and forced to write something they didn’t understand, over and over while that animal watched. His heart broke for her. He closed his pad and got her a tissue. “That’s enough for now. The sketch artist should be here soon. You rest.”
“Okay, thanks. Will you stay?”
He touched her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She half-smiled and closed her eyes.
Jason looked at his watch.
8:30.
Where is that artist?
Chapter 15
The light that had been coming in around the edges of the window was gone. Vanessa guessed it to be nine or ten in the evening. The man hadn’t returned, but it was only a matter of time.
She thought of Rob, and what he must be going through. And Jason, who she’s sure, is doing everything in his power to find her.
A click startled her, the doorknob turned, and the door opened. He stepped into the room, looked at her, and slammed the door. Walking directly toward her, he drew the gun from behind him, and pointed it directly at her stomach. The end of the barrel touched where her child was.
“Take off your clothes and hang them in the closet or your child dies.”
“Please no.”
“They all say that. Do it!”
He raised the gun and fired into the far wall. Vanessa covered her head, but he hadn’t intended to hit her. Her ears rang as he returned the gun to her belly. The muzzle burned.
“Take off your clothes, or the next one goes through the baby.”
She did as he demanded. Keeping her eyes on the gun as her clothes came off, when she was naked, she turned her back to him.
‘Hang them up!”
She did, slowly.
When she was done, she turned around, her arms wrapped across her breasts. He threw her a marker. She didn’t try to catch it, and it hit the wall next to her, dropping by her feet.
“You see what’s written on the walls?”
Vanessa nodded.
“I want you to write the same thing over and over until I tell you to stop.”
She didn’t move.
“NOW!”
She jumped at his shouting, and retrieved the marker. Turning to the wall behind her, because it allowed her to keep her back to him, she started to write. It occurred to her she hadn’t asked his name. “You haven’t told me your name.”
“Norman.”
Vanessa continued to write. She remembered some articles about kidnapping in a police manual.
Start a conversation. Make yourself be seen as a human being, not an object.
“That’s a nice name.”
She tried for as sincere a tone as she could muster, but his reaction told her she’d failed.
“You’re a liar. Just like always. You made me believe you cared but you didn’t.”
Something hit the wall next to her and made her cringe. She looked down to see a nine-millimeter bullet.
“The next one that comes at you will be coming from my gun.”
Vanessa continued to write while she tried to think of some way to leave a message. Nothing came to her. He stayed by the door and watched her as she continued to print out the words.
I will never call you bloodstain again.
*******
Jason looked at his watch for the twentieth time.
10:15.
He’d been waiting almost two hours for the sketch artist. Every minute was precious, and he’d just lost a hundred-twenty of them. Finally, he saw the man coming down the hall. He didn’t bother with greetings. “In here.”
He found Stephanie watching TV.
“Stephanie, the artist is here.”
“Okay,” she flipped the TV off, tried to pull herself up farther in the bed, and grimaced from the pain. “How do we do this?”
“The artist will start with some basic questions and then move to more specific features. You just answer the questions the best you can, and when he shows you the picture, you can make suggestions.”
“Okay.”
The artist finished opening his sketchbook. “Miss Morris, is it?”
She nodded.
‘My name is George Stewart. Do you have any questions about Detective Strong’s instructions?”
“No. I think I understand.”
“Okay. Let’s begin with the basic shape of the face. Would you say it was round or long?”
“Long.”
“And would you say it was thin or wide?”
“Thin.”
The artist did some drawing.
“And the eyes, were they close together, or wide set?”
“Close.”
“And his forehead, long or short?”
“What do you mean?”
“Would you say he had a big forehead or small?”
“Big.”
Jason moved over behind the artist so he could watch the picture take shape.
“And his nose, narrow or wide?”
And so it went for over a half an hour. Slowly, the picture in Stephanie Morris’ mind, came to be on the paper in front of Jason. He didn’t recognize him, but this was the face of the one holding his part
ner.
Jason planned to show the picture to Marcie Walker’s parents and friends. He still believed Miss Walker was the key. It had to be someone in her life. The artist continued with questions.
“His skin. What tone was it, light or dark?”
“Well, one half was light, but one side of his face was covered with a birthmark.”
“Okay. The birthmark, which side of his face?”
“It was on my right, when I looked at him.”
“Okay, that’s his left. Was it brown, red, or some other color?”
“It was red, almost purplish.”
“Like a Port Wine Stain?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
Jason stood straight up and looked at the artist. “What did you call it?”
“A Port Wine Stain. Why?”
Jason’s mind was going a mile a minute. The wine glasses. The bloodstain on each. It had to be the connection. “Our suspect would leave a wine glass at each scene.”
Stephanie’s eyes got big. “I remember that! He took a wine glass out of his bag.”
Jason headed for the door. “Finish the sketch, including the birthmark. I need to make a call.”
He glanced at his watch.
11:30.
*******
Vanessa’s arm was getting tired. She’d written the sentence at least a hundred times, maybe more. Occupying her mind by keeping a running total, she’d lost count at seventy-four. She had no idea how much time had gone by, but as long as she was writing, he’d leave her alone.
He hadn’t left the room, just stood quietly watching. “That’s enough.”
Her heart stopped.
“Throw me the marker. Nicely.”
She turned and tossed the marker over by his feet.
His voice had lost all tone. It was dead, cold, and matter-of-fact. It matched his eyes.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she waited for what she assumed was the inevitable. He looked at her, and then at the mattress in the middle of the room.
“Lay down over there.”
Vanessa didn’t move. The gun came up from his side and pointed at her. “Lay down over there, now.”
She crossed the room and climbed onto the mattress. Lying down, she curled into a fetal position, with her back to him. She held her breath, tears starting to well up in her eyes. Then she heard the door open and close, the lock click, and silence.
She let her breath out.
Chapter 16
Jason found the number in the memory of his phone. It was almost midnight but he had to call. Mrs. Walker had obviously been asleep. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Walker, this is Detective Strong. I’m very sorry to wake you.”
“Detective Strong?”
“Yes. Detective Vanessa Layne and I spoke with you and your husband a little over a week ago.”
“Oh, yes…Of course. It’s very late, Detective. What is it that couldn’t wait until morning?”
“I don’t have time to go into the details, but my partner has been taken, and we believe it’s the same man who took your daughter.”
Jason could hear Mrs. Walker suck in her breath. “We saw the news, of course. We didn’t realize who the abducted detective was.”
From the background came the voice of Mr. Walker. “Who is it?”
The phone was partially covered, but Jason could still hear Mrs. Walker telling her husband who was calling, and about Vanessa.
After some muffled noises, Mr. Walker came on. “What is it we can do for you, Detective?”
“Mr. Walker, do you or your wife recall a friend of Marcie’s from school who had a large birthmark on his face?”
“Well…yes. A boy with a rather large one went to high school with Marcie. I only met him once, quite by accident.”
Jason held his breath as Mr. Walker turned to his wife. “Do you remember the boy’s name who came by the house looking for Marcie? He had a large birthmark on his face.”
Jason couldn’t hear the answer but Mr. Walker came quickly back on. “My wife doesn’t remember his name, but she thinks his picture is in the high school yearbook. She’s gonna’ look for it. Do you want to call back?”
“Actually, would it be alright if I came over?”
“Now?”
“Yes. If his picture is in that book, I’ll need to see it.”
“Very well. See you when you get here.”
Jason hung up and called Lieutenant Patton. “Patton.”
Jason didn’t know if the lieutenant was at home, but he definitely wasn’t asleep.
“Lieutenant, this is Jason. I’m on the way to the Walker’s house. Stephanie Morris’ sketch has given me a lead. Mrs. Walker’s looking for a school yearbook that may contain our guy’s photo.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Yes, sir.”
*******
Time had stopped for Vanessa.
After what seemed like hours, she couldn’t tell how long actually, Norman came back in without a word, and moved to the far end of the room. She heard a click, like a lock snapping shut, followed by footsteps walking back to the door. He left again.
Vanessa looked around. The closet at the far end of the room was now closed and had a padlock on it. She couldn’t put her clothes back on if she wanted.
She curled back up on the mattress. Shaking, even though she wasn’t cold, fear unlike anything she’d ever known, suffocated her. The loss of control over her own life was something she’d never experienced, and each girl before her must have felt the same paralyzing fear.
Vanessa had been in street fights while on patrol. She’d been involved in a gunfight when responding to a bank alarm. Nothing had approached the kind of fear she felt now. She was helpless. No weapon, no clothes, no escape.
She fought for control. She wanted to run to the window, start pounding, and scream at the top of her lungs.
There’s no point, the room has to be sound proofed in some way, or he wouldn’t have risked firing his gun.
Her thoughts went to her partner. Jason was her best hope, maybe her only hope. He had to find her before it was too late.
God, please help him find me!
*******
Jason arrived at the Walker’s home twenty-five minutes later. The lights in the house were on. He parked and walked up to the door.
Mr. Walker opened it before Jason could knock. “Come in, Detective.”
“Thank you. Did Mrs. Walker have any luck finding the yearbook?”
“She’s still upstairs looking. Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thank you. I’ll just wait if it’s okay.”
“Of course.”
Jason was about to sit when he heard Mrs. Walker coming down the stairs. “Found it. Hello, Detective.”
“Hi, Mrs. Walker. You found the yearbook?”
“Not only did I find the book, I found his picture.”
Jason’s adrenaline surged. “Excellent. May I see?”
She handed him the book with the page open to a row of photos. Jason spotted him immediately.
Norman Thomas Lasiter.
The name didn’t ring any bells. “May I take this book?”
“Of course. Please let us know when you catch him.”
“I will. Thank you, and I apologize again for getting you out of bed.”
Mr. Walker shook his head. “It’s no trouble.”
Jason headed for the door, and back to the hospital. He needed to show the picture to Stephanie Morris.
Normally, they’d put together a photo line-up, if they could find five more individuals with Port Wine Stains. Vanessa didn’t have that kind of time.
He called and updated the lieutenant as he drove.
*******
Back at the hospital, Jason found Stephanie Morris asleep with the TV on. A nurse followed Jason into the room, checking the monitors. Jason had no choice. “I need to wake her.”
“She needs to sleep, Detective.”
“I kn
ow, but a life is at stake, and I need her to look at a photo.”
“I’ll need to call the doctor.”
“We don’t have time for that. It’s life and death. Please, just let me wake her.”
“Very well, but I’ll have to note it on her chart. Dr. Nance wanted her to sleep as much as possible.”
“I understand. It won’t take but a minute.”
Jason walked over and shut off the TV. The change in noise seemed to stir the girl. Jason touched her arm. “Stephanie? Stephanie?”
She opened her eyes and gave him a half-smile.
“Detective. Is everything okay?” She sat up, pulling on her shoulder, and wincing. “Did you see the sketch?”
“Not yet. I’ll see it when I get to the station. I have a photo I need you to look at.”
“Okay.”
She rubbed at her eyes before accepting the yearbook from Jason. His heart pounded, but he did his best to hide it. He needed a positive ID with zero influence from him.
The lieutenant had suggested rather than point out the suspect’s picture, Jason should show her the entire page of senior photos, and see if she picks him out. It wasn’t a true photo lineup, but it was better than nothing.
With the yearbook in her lap, Jason opened it to the page he had dog-eared. “I want you look carefully at all the male photos on this page. If you see the man who attacked you….”
Before Jason could finish the sentence, her finger came to rest on the picture of Norman Lasiter. She began to shake, and tears welled up in her eyes. She turned away.
He could tell by her reaction she was certain. He didn’t bother asking. “Thank you, Stephanie. I have to go. Are you okay?”
She nodded, and as he got to the door, she stopped him. “Detective Strong?”
He turned and met her eyes, which now held resolve and anger. “Get him!”
“I will…. I will.”
Jason ran for the elevator even as he dialed the lieutenant. His phone read 1:45 in the morning.
“Patton.”
“Lieutenant, I have an ID on our guy. I need an address.”
Jason heard the lieutenant grab a pad and pencil.
“Our suspect’s name is Norman Thomas Lasiter. He went to high school with Marcie Walker.”
“Give me five minutes.”
BLOODSTAIN (Det. Jason Strong(CLEAN SUSPENSE Book 2) Page 8