by catt dahman
The teacher who had been so strict with David and had caused grief was a divorcee and suspect because of it; some considered her a regular tart. David recognized the pendant buried with her. At the time, it was thought she ran away with some man as unmarried women sometimes did, but instead, she was right here all these years.
David couldn’t ask his father but knew there was a great story of how his former teacher came to be buried in the basement, but maybe David already knew because with her was a tiny fetus.
Calm and sure of himself again, David realized he had sat down in the basement room for two hours, dreaming. He rose and left, locking each door securely. The sitting room was still cluttered, and the trio was in the den watching some silly television program.
David didn’t care. “I’m going up to bed. And Ronnie?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s plan the next adventure tomorrow night.”
Lucy’s eyes lit up, “You mean….”
David waved a goodnight as he left them in the room, “I definitely mean it, and next time, let’s get even more creative.”
Chapter Eight: Returns
Instead of a leisurely breakfast, Virgil and Vivian ate eggs and toast at the diner, trying to save room for waffles while they talked. Vivian and Tina had finished interviews with everyone on their lists and had nothing to show for it. Tina had also spoken to hotel managers, waitresses at the diner, the men at the bus station, and owners of rooming houses, but none of them had noticed anyone who fit the description of the men they were looking for. None of them could recall a stranger or a visitor who stood out.
“Maybe I’m wrong. We need Sheriff Harding to come back and do this right.”
“It’s been less than two weeks.”
“Almost two weeks too long for the parents of those poor boys. They want to know who did it and why. They want justice and some closure.”
“How is Sheriff Harding?”
“Poorly.”
“I understand,” Vivian said, “but, Virgil, you are building a huge case against murderers, and all the evidence will help bring them to justice. It takes time to collect everything so you can see the killer locked up forever.” Vivian tried to see the scientific and mental aspects instead of focusing on the emotional parts; if she thought about the poor children and parents long, she would be in tears and unable to work.
Virgil nodded. “Yes, but I’d rather be building the case with someone in custody.”
“You also want to be right about this theory you have about being able to describe a suspect based on the crime. I know it matters to you that it works, not only because you’ll have the guilty people, but also because it’s a damn fine tool for law enforcement,” Vivian added.
“Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe it doesn’t work.”
“Maybe it does. How can you know without testing it?”
“What if it’s stupid?” Virgil asked.
“I would tell you if I thought it was stupid. You know me well enough to know I would tell you the truth. I am more than convinced after all these days, that you are right. When you had all the other cases dug up, that was smart,” said Vivian who had worked tirelessly with the rest to dig through older cases and try to find a connection. They found many reports of missing people, and when compared to averages in other states, the percentage was alarming.
In a pile, they added report after report of missing people or runaways who were never found. The more they looked, the more they were perplexed, and Virgil refused to let them stop even when they were decades back in the files. Because there were so many out-of-staters who came and went, there were many reports filed or that were solved, but some reports were never followed up on.
A few teens were written off as runaways but had last been seen at the campground or in town.
As far as town residents, there were missing prostitutes whose cases never were really looked at very closely because they were low priority and prone to moving in and out of town anyway.
There were also several accounts of wives who had left their husbands and left town; a runaway teacher, who was reported to have been quite wild; and a few young teens, as well as a few young men, long ago.
“You said the killer is young,” Tina pointed out even though she kept looking. It was the night before, and they were tired but still hard at work.
“He is,” Virgil said, a little uncertain, “but keep going. There are way too many killings for one area, and I want to dig until we get to where there are no more files out of the norm.”
The pile was large before they finished.
“So now the suspect is an eighty-year-old man? Because the way this looks, someone made people vanish long ago,” Tina said.
Virgil looked at Tina, shrugged and, “No, yes, I mean no. I don’t know what this means. Maybe there is a copycat. But we didn’t know about the first one. Maybe the first ones aren’t connected, but I want every one of these checked until we can say if these people were found.”
“I have to tell you I doubted you. When I heard about Harding and knew you were stepping up, I was worried. I like you, Buddy, but some of your hare-brained statistics and theories about how to solve crimes are…well...hare-brained. I don’t mean they’re stupid, but they’re things maybe big cities might use or try.”
“I see,” Virgil said.
“I thought that this case was lost because you’d be stuck in books and with numbers and not working it like Harding always had us do even if it was just a drunken brawl or a shoplifter. You know how he always said to walk it and talk it and work it.”
“He always says that.”
Tina frowned a little. “You’re a good cop. But as a boss, I wasn’t sure. But I want you to know that so far, you’ve had us do smart things. It’s not going as fast as I wished, but seeing those files…who the hell would have known that there were so many for the size of the town and that all of them were unsolved?”
“I got lucky with a guess, Tina.”
“No, you’re smart. And I wanted to say I’m here for you. I have your back. It’ll take a bit to figure out these files, but we’ll do it. I think you’re onto something.”
Virgil had beamed and blushed a little.
That happened late last night.
“How can I explain that I have found an abnormal number of reports, but they go back too far? Am I on the right track?” he asked Vivian. “Why would they go back so far?”
“Hold on to that. Let’s wait until we verify them all,” she suggested. “There will be something there. I have faith.”
“Okay.”
“Now, about the report on that other kid,” she added.
Virgil rubbed his hands on a napkin and massaged his temples. That report was in the in-box for him to see, but he hadn’t read it until Kurt happened to glance at the report and yell for Virgil who read it and stared blankly at the other people in the room. The report was from the medical examiner and stopped everyone cold.
A boy had fallen off the bridge near the campground and drowned. He had been playing on the bridge with friends, acting foolishly, and climbing up on the railings. It was a terrible accident.
After falling off the bridge, the child was found a day later; the body had washed downstream and was hooked on some branches of bushes that grew in a cluster by the water’s edge. Had it not been snagged in the brush, the body would have been found sooner. Since there had been time for swelling, the medical examiner took his time in determining the cause of death and had asked for more time to process the exam even though it was obvious at once that the child had drowned.
The ME called Harding, but Harding was in the hospital, and Virgil had a mess at the campground. Things began to spiral, and the situation was getting out of hand.
Sheriff Harding had assumed the child had fallen and drowned as everyone else had. There was no reason to think differently. The boy’s friends said that was what happened, but evidently for some reason, no one had heard the crack of a rifle.
>
The boy had been shot and killed before he hit the water; he had been murdered. And the child already had been buried.
Kurt shook his head violently. “This is insane. The timing is too strange for a town that never has murders. We’ve a regular crime wave.”
That was the night before as well.
“You’re right that we don’t have murders here. Now in two weeks, we have had two episodes: both were near the campground, all were male, all were preteen, and each victim suffered a different mode of death; that is the killer’s method…his…like signing a letter. It’s a signature. Each time, it is shocking, secretive, and different,” said Virgil as he ate a bite of toast and thought. What he said made sense to him, but if it did to anyone else, he didn’t know.
Vivian nodded, “So it’s the same guy?”
“Guys. There must be two. But why not? He started small and has worked up to more brutal crimes. I think the why he has escalated is as important as anything in helping us find this bastard,” Virgil said.
“Does the first fit?”
“I think so. Some would say it doesn’t, but it was still killing kids. Why would there suddenly be more than one killer, acting alone, in the same small town, and at the same time? The chances are almost impossible for that, Vivian. He got away with it and actually hid the crime at first. He’s got to be intelligent. He’s white. He’s young. A gun was involved but also a knife and his bare hands as well. He likes killing. He feels powerful, and since he is able, he feels he is justified.”
“Okay. A gun to a knife to choking? Why?”
Virgil thought and then said, “Well, a gun was a distance. It was impersonal. Then, maybe he got more personal over time, but this was fast. Something pushed him into deciding to kill up close and in a violent manner. He started taking chances and facing his victims. Why? I don’t know. But the answer is what we need.”
“Okay. Then we are closer, Virgil. What things would make a murderer get gutsier? What would make him more personal?
“Anger? No. Safety. Psychology, right?”
“Right. Safety is it. He feels safer suddenly in getting close and taking chances. He knows he can get away with it and handle it. What makes him feel safe?”
“Because he found a partner. He has a helper all at once: a friend or brother? Bravery in numbers,” said Virgil as he nodded.
“I think you are onto something….”
“Virgil, you have a call, Hon.” The waitress motioned him over.
Virgil excused himself, and then in a minute, he returned and said, “Come on, we have to go.” He slapped money on the table and grabbed Vivian’s hand as he pulled her out of the diner while some of the patrons stopped to watch them run out.
“There’s been another murder,” he hissed.
Vivian slid into the patrol car and let her jaw drop. “No, oh my, God. Virgil. Who? Where?”
He shifted into drive and peeled out of the parking lot. “The campground. Where else? They’ve called the rest.”
The road leading into the campground was blocked off by Kurt’s car, and he was stoic as he faced people who yelled and complained. A crowd had gathered and were furious that they weren’t allowed to leave the ground, demanding to be let through, saying they were afraid for their lives and asking why they were being detained.
Getting out of the car, Virgil hitched his pants and holster and smoothed his shirt as he collected his thoughts. Harding was better at this, but he had to do something. Virgil huffed and took a deep breath before yelling, “Hey, I said, Hey! I’m acting sheriff.”
Everyone began to yell at once.
Very calmly, Virgil announced, “Kurt, I want everyone who keeps yelling and arguing to be arrested for interfering with a police investigation.” Everyone got quiet.
“Thank you. Now that you’re willing to listen, we have a situation that I have not gotten the details about, but we know it’s serious. Some of you might be able to help us since you may have seen something helpful but not even realize it yet. I know in my heart that each one of you want to help catch a bad man and be a hero, so I know you will give my officers your names, addresses, and a statement to help us. Some of you may be asked to stay a bit longer and help more.”
Vivian was amazed at his folksy tone and passionate plea. It worked.
“We can do that,” a man called, “and let’s get everyone lined up so we can help write down license plate numbers and other information for the officers. Let’s work together on this. Everyone is safe here with our being together and with this nice deputy.”
Kurt smiled and nodded. “I’ll be up as soon as we have the situation orderly. You’re gonna need me there, Virgil; it’s a real mess. The worst. You best prepare for...well…it’s a nightmare.”
“Thanks, Kurt. I hope we wake up soon.”
Virgil saw the unknown man helping Kurt and a few more offering help as he and Vivian jumped back into the car and drove through the roadblock. He asked Kurt to call the state patrol for some backup because this calm might not last.
Virgil and Vivian ignored the crowd that was gathered and went to Tina Rant and Tobias who were pale and already shaking their heads as the rest arrived.
“It’s bad, Virgil. Bad as it gets. We have three more dead and another missing. I wish I had never become a cop. I could be home with a husband and nice kids knitting a scarf instead all this….”
Virgil had never seen Tina lose her composure so badly. “You have to be kidding me. We told them to clear out of here and shut things down. This is like a circus.”
“Some left. But a lot stayed because they figured the killer was long gone. We have several scout troops still here. In addition, we have families from all over who came in travel trailers or tents or in vans to camp. The murders have attracted as many as have been turned away,” Tobias said.
“Unreal.”
“The papers didn’t help. They ignored you and made it sound like some dirty drifter was the murderer, but hell, there’s no one like that around, so the visitors figured it was safe and went right on camping.”
“Was it like before? An attack on a tent?”
“That’s the weird part, Virgil. Over there, we have another attack on a tent. Three of the four girls are dead and were found this morning before they were even noticed missing. A counselor discovered them. Over there, we have another attack on a tent, but this time a little girl is missing. Her sister was in the same tent and is alive and unharmed. They, of course, were a family and not scouts.”
“Two attacks?”
“Exactly.”
Virgil let loose with a string of obscenities under his breath, making sure the press wasn’t around to quote him.
“Tell us what to do, Sheriff,” Vivian said pointedly.
Virgil sighed but set his jaw. “I want to look over both places: the abduction site first. I want the same procedure followed: deputize helpers, search, but preserve evidence. Tina, you are second in command in this investigation on this scene, and I want everyone reporting to you if he sees a stray hair. Nothing gets by. I want any evidence, and I want the child found. Alive. I also want the other crime scenes protected at all times.”
“People are scared, and some want to help.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass who is scared or anything else. Scared doesn’t find a child or solve a crime. You tell them to get their thumbs outta their ass and start looking for that child. If she is here, she will be found one way or another, and the faster they move, the more likely she will be alive. I have studied cases and seen that there is a correlation between when a person goes missing and how likely he is to be found alive. I feel the first few hours are critical.”
“I’d like to hear about your theory sometime,” Vivian said.
“I’ll be thrilled to bore you to death with it,” Virgil promised, “Tina?”
“Yes, Sir. Okay, let’s get moving, people,” Tina began her work, “and let them through. Hi, Joey. Hi, Janice. You here to help?”
Vivian waved at her family but followed Virgil with her notepad as he began to talk. Astonished, she jotted down his remarks on the weather, foliage, and even the remarks about people around them. Although she had felt it in her gut, she knew right that he was capable and smart; she knew for a fact that Virgil was actually brilliant. Of course, the weather mattered.
In the first area, families camped. Virgil had just finished a piece of music in his head.
A young man approached and asked, “Can we start searching for Jillian?” He was dressed in shorts and a tee shirt and had an eager face.
“Yes, see my deputy, Officer Tina Rant for organization.”
“Good deal. We have fifty already.”
Virgil shook the man’s hand, “Thank you. I hope you find her. Are those her parents?”
“Yes, Sheriff. Come on, let’s go.” He gathered volunteers and took off. Some were members of the press. The compassion was astonishing.
Virgil introduced himself and Vivian to Jillian Berger’s parents Connie and William and to her sister, Rose. The young girl’s face was tear stained, and she was pale and looked sick with worry. The father had tight lines around his lips, and his eyes were glassy; it was the look of a man who was about to crack and needed to be doing something but didn’t know what.
Connie, the mother of the missing girl, looked concerned but also had an aura of trust as soon as Virgil shook her hand. It seemed she was already processing the situation and feared the worst and was preparing for it; she was the rock of that family.
“Mr. and Mrs. Berger, we are working on finding Jillian. We have search teams scouring the area right now. If you want anything: information, a quiet place to rest, or anything, please ask one of my deputies or me, and it will happen for you. I do need to ask questions, and I apologize, but the questions are to help me. I know it’s hard on you, but frankly, I need answers because I am working to find Jillian, and she is my first and only concern, okay?”