by James Andrus
Then he glimpsed the stun gun off to one side. He could understand how they had fallen out of favor with police departments. The Taser created the same effect but from a distance. He wished he had some distance between him and Stacey now.
He threw her off him onto the mattress, then dove toward the stun gun lying in the corner on the floor. She followed him like a heat-seeking missile. She was no fool and knew this might be her only chance for escape. In some ways he admired her feistiness.
Dremmel had the stubby handle of the stun gun in his grasp as he felt the blow of Stacey’s whole body on his back. He felt for the trigger, reached the gun across his chest, under his left arm until he felt it make contact with the bare skin of her side. Perfect.
He squeezed the trigger and immediately heard the electric chatter of the gun like the sound cartoon characters made when they hit high-voltage fences. Only this wasn’t animated.
Stacey flipped off him onto the cold terrazzo floor, still convulsing. Her eyes rolled up in her head.
All Dremmel could do was stare in fascination as she twitched and gurgled. It almost looked like the orgasms he saw in the pornos he watched so often. He placed a hand on her shoulder to hold her down as she still convulsed, her breasts flopping from side to side. Then she went absolutely still.
“I told you to calm down. This is the kind of thing that happens when you misbehave.” He wondered where he had gotten his disciplinarian attitude. His mother had never threatened him. Then, for some reason, he felt his dick move.
He put his ear to her chest and heard a strong, if fast, heartbeat. This was mesmerizing. He could study a reaction like this for months.
Stacey’s eyes returned to normal as she tried to focus. She turned but made no effort to strike him again.
He felt a wave of disappointment, because he had enjoyed her reaction to the stun. Then he wondered how she’d ever allow him to resecure her to the shackles while conscious. It was more of a rationalization for what he did next. He looked her in the eye and said, “This is for your own good. Anytime you act up, this is what will happen to you.”
Without hesitation he stuck the small metal nodes of the stun gun on Stacey’s inner thigh, brushing his hand against her soft pubic hair. He kept gazing into her eyes as he squeezed the trigger again, sending her back into a convulsive stupor.
Maybe the drugs weren’t the only theory he could test on women over the coming years. There were definitely other fields in which he was interested.
Thirty-three
William Dremmel managed to secure the still trembling Stacey Hines before she regained her composure and fought him again. He’d gathered valuable information from his struggle and wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Her eyes focused on him with a look of anger, not fear, on her face.
He liked her naked body stretched out in front of him, the muscles on her inner arm straining as she tested the handcuffs once more. Her stomach had hard lines he had not noticed or was it that in the days she’d been here she’d already started losing the outer layer of baby fat? He’d adjust her calorie intake to make sure she didn’t lose any more.
There were tiny burn marks where the stun gun had caught her on the side and inside thigh. It looked like a tiny vampire had attacked her in two places. The inner-thigh jolt had really affected her, and he wasn’t sure if it was the location of the shock or the cumulative effect of the two jolts.
Dremmel said, “Did you learn your lesson?”
Stacey just glared at him.
“It’ll be worse next time you act up. Once you learn that I just want a peaceful relationship, I think your life will be much more pleasant.” He could tell by her look that if she got another chance it’d be worse on him too. Man, he thought, there’s so much a good scientist could study if he only had the time and subjects. The idea of testing stun guns on naked women aroused him as much as his current lab work. He’d go through more test subjects, but it sure would be fun.
Stacey turned her head and said, “You know they’re looking for me.”
He’d seen her face on the TV, but there was no mention of what the police thought had happened to her. She was just a missing person.
“You said you lived alone, and your family was in Ohio.”
“But they expect a call from me.”
“Don’t worry, you’re safe here for a good long time.”
“Why? What will happen in all that time?”
He was surprised at her precise questions without scorn or sarcasm. “You’ll get plenty of rest.”
“What will you get?”
“Who knows, maybe the perfect woman.”
Stallings continued to drive at a reasonable speed to keep his tail near enough to continue the surveillance but not so close that the pursuer would realize Stallings was in control. There was no way he wanted to lead whoever this was to his house. That’s all Maria and the kids needed now—Stallings shooting someone on their front yard. No, he had the perfect place. Quiet, confusing, and isolated enough this time of night to allow him to do whatever he had to.
He pulled the Impala onto the interstate and drove north a few exits, then, after making sure the tail was still on him, Stallings eased off the highway and took a slow left into a shopping plaza and drove through the first row of stores. This plaza had once been a mall, but new designs had pushed the owner to break it up into five individual strips of stores with three rows running in one direction and two strips running perpendicular so that from the air the strips looked like two Hs sharing the middle building. If someone wasn’t familiar with the plaza’s layout it was easy to become trapped in the lot.
Stallings turned into the middle of the plaza and quickly pulled his Impala around and parked close to the building. He shut off the lights, drew his Glock, and waited, intentionally avoiding any speculation on who his tail was or what he wanted. Now was not the time for distraction.
The beam of a headlight passed over the lot as a car slowly made the turn toward him. Stallings knew that right about now the other driver was discovering he had fucked up. Once the Buick had cleared the building and was just in front of Stallings he hit his lights, threw the Impala into gear, and roared from his spot, forcing the Buick to the side and pinning the car next to a high curb.
As both cars came to a stop inches from each other, Stallings popped out of the driver’s side with his pistol up and on the driver of the Buick.
Stallings said, “Let me see your hands, now.” The last word was a shout. He emphasized it by bringing up the pistol slightly.
Inside the Buick a pair of hands rose and Stallings kept the gun on the driver.
“Open the door slowly and step out. Do it now.”
The door popped open and two hands immediately rose up. He could see a male’s face as he focused past the front sight of his Glock.
He heard, “Okay, Stall, you win.”
He recognized the would-be spook and still debated shooting him right where they stood.
The trauma of the evening rushed through Stacey Hines and she started to shake. Even under the wool blanket her naked body shuddered uncontrollably like she was laid out on ice. The bitter aftertaste of the water with several pills ground up and mixed in spread down her throat and up her nasal cavity. She knew what was in the cloudy glass of water. She’d even watched as William had pressed the pills under the bottom of a thick glass, then scooped the dust into a plastic cup with a few ounces of water.
After being shocked twice with that weird electric grip thing she decided she’d drink the water without complaint. Almost instantly she’d felt her system slowing down and then the shivering and shuddering started.
William leaned over her and stroked her hair as if he thought it would soothe her. “You’ll sleep for a good long time, and tomorrow night I hope we don’t have the kind of conflict we had tonight.”
She didn’t say anything but kept her eyes on him. She wanted to burn every detail of him into her memory so when t
he police finally saved her and needed information, she could give it to them. His thinning blond hair and pale blue eyes now made him look cold. His smile wasn’t inviting like she’d thought before; it now appeared evil. Like the bogeyman her brothers used to tell her about to scare her. Somehow it was William’s mild good looks that made him scarier than if he had a hook for a hand or a horribly scarred face.
She started to drift off, wondering how soon her parents really would start looking for her. Stacey now wished she had more of a social life so someone did miss her. She didn’t even know yet if anyone knew she was in trouble. Maybe someone at the Fountain of Youth would worry about her missing a few shifts. But would they be concerned enough to call the police?
The room went hazy and a calm, almost pleasant feeling drifted over her. William’s face fell out of focus. Then she was dreaming about kissing her mom good morning back home as she smelled hotcakes and bacon on the griddle. She tried to hold on to the dream but snapped back to reality for just a moment and thought, God, how did I get into this?
John Stallings had his pistol holstered and his arms folded, and he leaned against the hood of his car as he stared across at Ronald Bell leaning against the hood of his Buick.
“Never did much dope work, huh, Ron?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Your surveillance skills are a little weak.”
“We still follow people occasionally.”
“We, as in I.A.?
“I’ve been in the unit a long time, so yes, when I say ‘we,’ I mean the professional conduct unit.”
“No one calls it PC.”
“I know, but that’s the name of the unit.”
“If you’ve been there that long without moving up that must mean you like it.”
“Look, Stall, I know you think we exist to screw with good cops, but that’s not the case.”
“Then what are you doing following me around tonight?”
Bell sighed and wiped his handsome face down with his bare hand.
“C’mon, Ron, I got things to do. We gonna spend all night here or are you gonna spill it?”
“Two things have me looking at you. First of all there’s Franklin Hall.”
“Who?”
“The pimp you brought in for questioning.”
“Oh, Jamais.”
“Yeah, same guy. He claims you threatened him and damaged his Hummer with an ASP.”
“He make a complaint?”
“No, I was looking at another issue when it came out.”
“What else, Ron?”
“The media leak in the unit.”
“You’re shitting me. We’re after a killer who’s probably just grabbed his fourth victim and you’re wasting time on who blabbed to a TV station?”
“I never said it was specifically TV.” He leaned forward like he’d just made Stallings confess.
“No, you dumb-ass, but the reports are always on TV, then the Times-Union quotes them.” He shook his head at this silliness. “And you think I’m the leak?”
“I have to investigate.”
“And I have to catch a killer.”
Bell said, “We each have a job to do.”
“But mine has a fucking purpose.”
Thirty-four
The photograph of Stacey Hines on the TV barely caught William Dremmel’s attention as he walked past the break room in the rear of the pharmacy. In the photo she was smiling as if she’d just graduated or was the homecoming queen. The cute dimples on her cheeks and light in her eyes came through even on the cheap TV with sketchy reception. The image didn’t startle him like the first time he’d seen it, because now the airwaves were flooded with her pretty face. His minor error was not looking for an Internet pole camera designed to show surfers the wave height and conditions. The grainy image from the webcam showed a petite woman, who the police said was Stacey, climbing into a vehicle. Even the police experts said it was probably a van, but no one could say it unequivocally. No one would notice him in his little tan Nissan Quest. Just like no one would see Stacey’s face again in public. At least not outside a suitcase, and he hoped that wouldn’t be for a long, long time. The story closed with the announcer saying that although there is no official comment it is believed the girl had been taken by the Bag Man.
Dremmel couldn’t keep a smile from creeping across his face. He was the Bag Man. No one knew but him.
Then the announcer said that police have several leads that look promising. That made him freeze and a lump in his stomach rise to his throat. Did they really have a lead? Had he slipped up? Allowing his van to be filmed, even if only by a crude surf camera, was a mistake. How many others had he made?
As he considered this possibility he felt a quick sting on his butt and jumped, then turned to see Lori smiling.
“C’mon, Billy,” she started. “You’re not used to someone pinching your cute caboose?”
He forced a smile and mumbled he just didn’t expect it. She followed him into the storeroom as he started to clean up old magazines. As he sorted through things to discard, Lori perched atop a case of baby formula and started chatting like she was on a class break in high school.
“How late do you work tonight, Billy?”
“I’m done here at six, but I have papers to grade after that.”
“Wanna catch dinner?” Her white teeth almost glowed against her attractive dark skin.
“I can’t tonight.” He tried to say it firmly because he knew it might be a long time until he was free.
Lori continued to hang out with him for more than fifteen minutes, then followed him back into the break room. Just as they entered there was another news teaser on Channel Eleven with a photo of Stacey Hines.
Lori said, “Hey, isn’t that the waitress you’re sweet on?”
He turned as casually as he could make himself and looked at the small screen. “I’m not sweet on a waitress.”
Lori pointed to the TV and said, “Isn’t that the girl who served us lunch the other day?”
He looked again. “I guess it could be. That’s a shame.” He had no idea how to sound concerned or show any real emotion.
“I hope they find her before that goddamn Bag Man is done with her.” Lori turned to leave, but Dremmel caught the sideways look she gave him.
He stood in the small break room alone, an uncontrollable shaking starting up one side of his body and down the other. He knew he couldn’t have a link to Stacey. Lori would put two and two together soon enough. He had to act and act fast to keep his identity a secret.
Tony Mazzetti was exhausted from the events of the last few days and his responsibilities, but he wasn’t in any kind of a bad mood. Hell, he felt pretty good. Patty had shown she was patient, and the pressure he normally felt with women had melted away. He’d considered Viagra but didn’t want to talk to his own doctor about it. Not with his hot nurse, Darlene, right there and then having to face the doctor for every little thing after. He’d rather have extra rectal exams than admit he needed help with his own equipment.
But Patty seemed to be the only medicine he needed, and now all he wanted was an opportunity. That might be tough. Being the lead on a big case like this took up a lot of time and energy. Besides actually investigating the case he had to update bosses, talk to the media, dole out leads (making sure to keep the good ones for himself), and generally keep on everyone’s ass to stay on top of things.
The video of Stacey Hines had motivated the detectives like nothing he’d ever seen before. Her photo was running on every channel and shown by the detectives to every cheap dope dealer or smart-ass pimp in an effort to scare up some information. The circumstances of the last deaths indicated that the Bag Man didn’t kill victims immediately, and that gave everyone hope that they could still find the missing girl.
He assigned out a dozen shit leads. The kind of leads Stallings would be getting if not for his contacts in the homeless community and his protection from the L.T. He checked on Patty’s ass
ignment and saw she’d be hitting all the pharmacies on the South Side west of the river. He nodded to himself. That was a good and safe assignment. He couldn’t wait until they both had a few minutes for each other.
Stallings looked over at the blond guy in the tan Nissan Quest trying to see his face. He was paranoid and suspected every jerk-off in a van of being the Bag Man. Ever since he had seen Trina Ester and not noticed the killer at the Wendy’s, he had been careful to look closely at everyone. It was emotional and counterproductive; he needed to focus on real leads. The only thing he should be paranoid about was if he was still being followed by Internal Affairs. He had hoped his sincere, if not a little aggressive, chat with Ronald Bell would satisfy their concern that he was a leak to the media and now he could focus on finding the Bag Man.
The fucking case had started to eat him alive, and the video of Stacey Hines had only exacerbated his anxiety. He had barely been home while anyone was awake, skipped meals, forgot about any kind of exercise, and now found himself only thinking about leads and clues in the case.
He jumped every time his phone rang, fearing it was someone telling him they had found Stacey Hines in a suitcase somewhere. The entire situation was too similar to Jeanie’s disappearance, and he knew that it had to be affecting Maria, but he wasn’t home to support her. The story playing out on TV was gut-wrenching from Stacey’s parents’ arrival from Ohio to the volunteers searching aimlessly for her.
His experience told him that someone like the Bag Man wouldn’t be caught by well-intentioned volunteers. Even if they found a decent lead, they probably wouldn’t recognize its significance.
A detective like him was the best shot that girl had to live, and he wouldn’t screw up any chances he found. It felt personal and direct since he had first seen Lee Ann Moffit’s face. Now the desire to stop this guy burned even brighter inside him
He had a bullet with the Bag Man’s name on it, and he needed to find him before it was too late. For Stacey Hines and his own family.