Black Widow

by Victor Methos

  “No bother at all. What’s going on?”

  “I just… wanted to discuss your sister with you a little more. Maybe we could meet.”

  “Well, I’m already in my PJ’s. Why don’t you come over here?”

  Stanton hesitated. “I don’t want to be a burden. We can do it when you have some time.”

  “Right now’s fine. Lemme give you my address.”

  She gave it to him and Stanton recognized the area. He told her he would be there in fifteen minutes and then hung up.

  Stanton had never, not once, called a suspect like that. He was interested in her sister, but that wasn’t the reason that he had called. He wanted to spend time with her. Something about her was like a magnet. Tonight, with Suzanne, all he could think was how much he wished that Heidi had been the one with him.

  In fourteen minutes, Stanton was parked in front of Heidi Rousseau’s house. The home was secluded, surrounded by at least an acre or so of jungle before the next home over. The beach was even closer to her house than it was to his.

  He got out and went to the front door. After knocking, he looked over to a foam pad and quilt that was on the porch. Next to it was a dog bowl with food still in it.

  Heidi answered, wearing University of Hawaii pajamas. She smiled at him as she held the door open. He stepped inside without a word.

  The house was sparsely decorated and there were still a few cardboard boxes lying around. It had the appearance of someone that was either moving in or moving out.

  “Do you want something to drink? I have hot chocolate.”

  “That’d be great, thanks.”

  Stanton followed her into the kitchen. She mixed the drink and then got out a canister of whipped cream and sprayed a thick batch over the steaming chocolate. She handed the mug to him and then made one for herself.

  “You look a little sunburned,” she said.

  “I’m okay. Scottish skin, I guess.”

  “You never did say where you’re from.”

  “My father’s parents were from Edinburgh. My mother’s were from somewhere else in Scotland. Stanton family lore says their parents knew each other. That my mother and father actually played together as kids. It was just by coincidence that my parents met when they’d both moved to the States.”

  She placed whipped cream on top of her drink and then led him out to the patio. She sat in one of the chairs and brought her feet up on the seat, the mug held by both hands. Stanton sat next to her. The view was of the beach and the ocean.

  “You believe in fate?” she said. “That your parents would have met and gotten married no matter what?”

  “I don’t know. No, I guess not. I think we make our own choices. What about you?”

  “I believe in fate. I think some people are just born destined for certain things.”

  “You don’t believe we have a choice?”

  She sipped the hot chocolate and licked some whipped cream off her upper lip. “In the little things, like whether I’m going to take another drink of this hot chocolate, yes. But in the big things, like what type of person I’m going to be or who I’m going to marry, I don’t think we do.”

  Stanton was silent a while and looked out over the water. He sipped the hot chocolate and it burned his tongue, but he didn’t say anything.

  “The view alone is worth the price of this place,” he said.

  “It is. That’s why I rented it. The owners are this nice couple from Philadelphia. They’re retired, and told me they’ve been married for forty-six years. Can you imagine that? Being with the same person for almost five decades?”

  Stanton didn’t reply. He listened to the waves a bit and then said, “Tell me more about your sister.”

  “There’s not much more to tell.”

  “I want to get a feel for her. I just know facts right now.”

  Heidi took a drink and then looked down into the mug as she spoke. “We were ten or eleven, right before she was taken away. I remember we went to this Seven Eleven and they had an arcade game. Some boys were playing it. We knew them from school. Not all the boys were nice but these ones were. When they were playing their game, Heather brushed past one of them and reached down and pulled the plug from the wall.” Heidi drifted off in thought a moment. “It’s such a minor thing to think about now. Compared to things she’s done. But I remember that as the moment I knew my sister had nothing redeemable in her. When she saw a chance to be cruel, even to someone who had shown her kindness, she would do it.”

  Stanton placed his mug down and leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. “How many people has she killed?”

  Heidi shook her head. “Who knows? I lose track of her for years at a time.”

  “Is it just men?”

  “I don’t know. That’s all I’ve seen, but I don’t know.”

  Stanton hesitated. What he was about to ask might cut deep, and he wanted to be as gentle as possible. “Abuse is pretty common in the backgrounds of people like your sister. Was there abuse in your home, Heidi?”

  She was silent a long time.

  “We had a grandfather that was… yes, yes, there was abuse. My grandfather was into sadism. We found sadistic pornography at his house one day when he was babysitting us. I think he did things to Heather when we were young.”

  Stanton nodded. He wasn’t about to ask if Heidi had had the same things done to her.

  “When I meet her on Tuesday, we’re going to arrest her. I’ll have a mic, and a SWAT team will be nearby. Is she going to be armed?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Guns aren’t her style. Maybe a knife.”

  “Is she going to fight me?”

  Heidi nodded. “She’ll fight for her life. I don’t think you should do it, Jon. You’re a nice guy, but she’s not human. Whatever you think is going to happen, won’t. She’ll see you from a mile away. She’s too smart.”

  “I have to try.” He rose. “I better go. I don’t know how much longer I’ll have a babysitter for.”

  She watched the ocean. “You can spend the night. If you want, I mean.”

  A burst of emotion churned his gut and, without thinking, he bent down and kissed her softly on the lips. It was sweet from the whipped cream. He pulled away, and the two of them held each other’s gaze.

  “I can’t…” he said.

  “Maybe some other time.”

  “Maybe.”

  Stanton walked down the porch steps and back to his jeep.

  What was that, he thought.

  34

  On Sunday, Stanton gathered the boys and went to church. The local Mormon ward wasn’t too far; he parked and pushed the boys in, groaning. Every Sunday was a fight, but it was one he knew he could win. The boys had friends there, not to mention cute girls.

  They sat through sacrament and then separated for some doctrinal classes. A woman he had been speaking to asked if he needed anything. She was single, newly divorced, and Stanton knew the pain and loneliness she was feeling right now. He asked if she would like to bring her three boys over sometime for a barbeque. She agreed.

  After church, the tradition was to have a picnic on the beach and then surfing. Johnny wanted to spend the day at Dave’s house, and Stanton didn’t object. He had done a thorough vetting of Dave and his parents, running criminal history checks and background reports. They were a nice couple, but Stanton still insisted Johnny call him every hour and check in.

  Mathew went off with his friends almost immediately after they’d eaten. Stanton was left alone on the sand. The day was cooler and a storm was out on the horizon. They would have to pack up soon and head home. But he wanted to give his son as much time with his friends as he could.

  Stanton’s cell phone rang. It was Heidi.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hi. Listen, I’m not really good at this so I just want to talk for a minute, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I… would… I mean, I really liked last night. Spending time with you. And I
would like to do it again, if you would. I mean, I know I’m mixed up in all this but I really want you to know I liked last night.”

  “I did too.”

  “So we can see each other again?”

  Stanton grinned. “Sure.”

  “Okay,” she said, relieved. “Well, that’s all. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Stanton hung up and felt foolish. He was giddy like a junior-high-school kid and he didn’t know why. He’d had dozens of relationships and been married for nine years. But somehow Heidi seemed new to him. Like he’d never been with a woman before her. The only thing he wanted to do was spend time with her.

  But she was also the sister of a suspect in two homicides, at least. On a rational level, he recognized that getting involved with her was the worst thing he could do. But on an emotional level, the thought of not being alone, of having someone to identify with and share his life, was too strong. He couldn’t resist it, even if he wanted to.

  Stanton allowed his boys to spend the rest of the day with their friends. At night, the three of them watched a movie, Iron Man 3, before heading off to bed.

  Stanton lay in the dark staring at the ceiling a long time. The moonlight came through the windows for a short while before the storm finally hit the island. Rain began pounding against the glass and the doors. It sounded like stones falling from the sky.

  The constant rhythm comforted him in an odd way, and he listened to it for patterns but found none. Just a random release of nature.

  After the storm died down, Stanton fell into a dreamless sleep.

  When he woke up, it was morning and he’d only slept a few hours. The beginnings of a migraine were already there, and he immediately went to the bathroom and got the bottle of ibuprofen. He took four with water from the sink, and then showered and shaved.

  The boys were nearly ready for school, and he saw them off before leaving. The storm had cleared the sky and left a clean, wet smell in the air. He wished he had time to take a long drive. Sometimes he would rent a Harley and zip across the island, stopping at various elevations to view the rolling green hills and rainbow-colored jungles that sprawled before him.

  Before he even reached the precinct, his cell phone rang and showed a number from there.

  “This is Stanton.”

  “Jon, it’s Connor, man. We got a problem.”

  “What?”

  “Head down to the Hailulu Hotel, man. Room 1405.”

  Stanton didn’t need to ask what it was. He hung up and flipped a U-turn.

  35

  Stanton parked at the hotel but didn’t go in. He needed to prepare himself. A podcast was playing over the stereo, and he unhooked his iPhone and sat in silence.

  The hotel was white with blue tinted windows. Several police cruisers and the Scientific Investigation Section’s SUV were out front. He got out of the jeep.

  As he walked inside, several employees were gathered in a group by the doors. They were whispering and staring at the men in uniforms that were coming in and out of the building. Police tape was over the entrance. No one in or out. The uniforms would have to interview every single person in the hotel before giving a clearance that people could leave.

  Stanton showed his badge and ducked under the police tape. He followed two uniformed officers to the elevators. No rooms were on the lobby floor and they got off on the first stop up. The rooms were numbered, starting with 1000, and Stanton walked down the corridor until he reached 1405. The door was open and several voices came from inside.

  Stanton stepped in. He saw Jones leaning against the wall, watching a forensic tech take a blood sample from the carpet. Jones saw him and walked over.

  “You ready for this, man?”

  “Is it the same?”

  “A few things different.”

  Stanton followed him into the bedroom. Strapped to the bed was a male, young and caked in blood. His face had been peeled away and nailed to the wall above the bed. His body had been mutilated so badly, Stanton thought of ground beef, and it made him feel nauseated.

  A pile of clothes was neatly folded against the wall. The scene was surprisingly bloodless. The sheets and pillows were spattered, but very little had gotten onto the carpets and walls.

  “ID?” Stanton asked.

  “Yeah. In a wallet in the pants. Nathan William Thomas. Twenty years old. Has a Nebraska license but an address here. Barely moved to the islands.”

  Stanton took some paper booties out of a box that had been placed on the television stand. He put them over his shoes and then put on some latex gloves and walked over to the bed. The boy, even without the skin on his face, appeared youthful. He looked like he was twenty. Stanton stood quietly a long time. Jones was saying something, but Stanton couldn’t hear him. The boy had been castrated and the testicles placed at the base of the neck.

  It appeared like the right eye was bulging more than the left. Stanton wondered if something had been shoved in there. A note or other object. Something to taunt the police. He bent down, a few inches away from the boy’s face.

  The boy sucked in air and screamed.

  Stanton jumped back, nearly toppling over Jones. Everyone in the room was frozen before Jones shouted, “Holy shit! He’s still alive. Get the damn paramedics here right fucking now. Fucker’s still alive!”

  The boy began to writhe and pull at the duct tape holding him to the bed. He was in shock and frantic. Stanton wrapped his hands around the boy’s skinless face.

  “It’s okay,” Stanton said as calmly as he could. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. Do you hear me? You’re going to be okay, Nathan. It’s over, and you’re going to be okay.”

  The face slipped between his fingers, and he couldn’t keep the boy’s eyes on him. “Get the ambulance here now!” Stanton shouted.

  36

  Stanton sat in the waiting room of the hospital. Jones was next to him. Technically, they both should have been at the crime scene, helping process evidence and run leads and interviews. But neither of them could bring themselves to go.

  “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that,” Jones said. “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that.” He looked to Stanton. “Have you?”

  Stanton shook his head but didn’t say anything.

  It was a solid two hours before the trauma surgeon came out. He had blood on his scrubs. Stanton noticed that a tan line was on his finger where a wedding ring should have been and he wondered if he was newly divorced. He began picturing the man’s wife, the days on end she spent by herself with her husband at the hospital. He saw children…

  Stanton knew his mind was distracting him. He reigned in his thoughts and focused on the surgeon’s face.

  “We need to talk to him,” Jones said.

  The surgeon shook his head. “Can’t do it.”

  “Is he alive?” Jones asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we got to talk to him.”

  The surgeon placed his hands behind his back. “Detective, if you walked into that room and startled him, he would die from shock. He’s been through more pain than you or I can imagine. I’m going to keep him sedated for as long as we can. I’m afraid sepsis has already set in. We’ll pump him full of antibiotics and hope for the best. But I can’t let you interrogate him. I’m sorry.”

  Stanton’s eyes wandered down to the blood staining the surgeon’s scrubs. “The person that did this has killed two other people that we know of. She’ll continue to do this over and over. And she works quickly.”

  “She?” he said. “You telling me a woman did that to him?”

  Stanton looked up into his eyes. “She’ll keep doing it. She won’t stop.”

  The surgeon thought for a moment. “I’m sorry. I’d love to help. But my obligation is to that boy. Not to your investigation. You can’t interview him while he’s in this state.”

  “We could get a court order,” Jones said. “We could force you to let us see him.”

  “And he might di
e, Detective. Is that really what you want?”

  Stanton shook his head. “Please just let us know when we can see him.”

  The surgeon nodded and turned away. As he walked across the waiting room, Stanton took out his cell phone. He dialed Heidi’s number and walked out to the entrance.

  “Where you goin’?” Jones said.

  “To find who did this.”

  Heidi didn’t answer, so Stanton checked the pediatrics department. She had taken the day off today due to illness.

  He jumped into his jeep and drove to her home. The sky was gray and rolling with clouds. Thunder would crackle miles away, but the sky was too obscured to see the lightening.

  When he got to her house, he parked in the driveway and went to the front door. He knocked, then rang the doorbell. No one answered. He tried her cell again.

  “Hello?”

  “Heidi, it’s Jon Stanton. I’m outside your house. Mind opening the door?”

  “Oh. Sure, hang on.”

  A few minutes later the door opened. Heidi stood in a robe, her hair wet. Stanton glanced down to her feet and saw that her toenails were painted black.

  “They said you were sick,” he said.

  “I’m not feeling a hundred percent. What’s going on?”

  Stanton waited a beat to see if she would invite him in, but she didn’t. “Do you know where your sister is?”

  “No, why?”

  “Don’t lie to me. Do you know where she is?”

  “Jon, what’s the matter with you?”

  He held her gaze a few moments. “There’s been another victim. Twenty-year-old kid.”

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”

  He stepped closer to her. “Heidi, do you know where she is?”

  “If I knew, I would tell you.”

  Stanton, usually an expert at microfacial expressions that revealed underlying emotions associated with dishonesty, couldn’t get a read on Heidi.

  “Thanks,” he said, stepping off her porch.

  “Where you going?”