MAD AS BELL

by Jeremy Waldron

  I led him up the short flight of stairs and dug out my house keys from my purse. I opened the door and Cooper came flying out with his tail wagging. He jumped on King, and King pushed him back down. When he stalled, I threw him a questioning look, wondering what it was that had taken his mind off of me.

  “These girls, Sam, they’re Mason’s age.”

  His voice was so weak, I knew his heart was shattering. I stepped into his arms and clung onto his waist, wanting him to know he wasn’t alone. He held onto me for a solid minute before pulling back. Casting his gaze down, our eyes locked when I tipped my head back.

  King said, “Something happened.”

  I nodded, knowing he could feel the anxiety buzzing through my body. Taking him inside my house, I shut the door and said, “Eva’s picture was taken.”

  “By who?”

  My knight was back, ready to fight. I made sure King knew who Archie was before saying, “I’m not sure what he’s planning to do with it—sell it to the tabloids or use it for his own benefit—but I do know he’s after a serial killer I’m certain doesn’t exist.”

  “A serial killer in Denver?”

  I held his eyes and nodded once.

  King frowned and shook his head no. “What makes him think that?”

  I told King about Archie’s book about the Prom Queen Killer and said, “I’m afraid he’s more concerned about the fame he’s expecting to receive after his next book is finished than getting his facts right.”

  “Now you understand why the department mistrusts members of the media—”

  “I get it,” I said, not wanting to lose focus on what really mattered—the girls who were missing and the fact that the police hadn’t yet named a suspect.

  King asked where it happened, and I told him.

  He turned away and I watched the lines on his forehead deepen with obvious concern.

  “Samantha,” he said, “Eva is my only witness to the crime I’m attempting to solve. If this reporter is a problem, I need to know about it now.”

  “Eva is safe,” I said, understanding King didn’t want Archie to intimidate his only witness. “She’s at Erin’s place now.”

  With his hands on his hips, he asked, “Why were you at the medical examiner’s office to begin with? This isn’t about your theory that crimes are getting covered up, is it?”

  Now we were talking business. I said, “There is no record of Jane Doe ever arriving.”

  King downplayed the situation. “She probably just hasn’t been processed.”

  “Why wouldn’t Griffin have said that if that was the case? Don’t you find it the least bit suspicious that Jane Doe’s body couldn’t be located?” I stared into the eyes I loved, waiting for him to respond. When he didn’t, I continued, “I’m not asking you to go to war with the mayor and jeopardize your job, but if someone is attempting to cover-up crimes like I suspect they are, the public deserves to know how. This is an elected official we’re talking about, throwing away tax dollars to the exact opposite of what he was hired to do.”

  King tipped his head back and scrubbed a hand over the lower half of his face. “I’ll look into it, but I was there in Park Hill and saw Jane Doe with my own eyes. I can assure you she exists.”

  “Then how can you explain her having gone missing from the morgue?”

  “Mistakes happen when resources aren’t allocated properly.”

  I knew he wasn’t defending the mayor, but rather the department that gave him his identity—a badge he wore with honor. “Are you saying the scene was never officially declared?”

  King looked annoyed by my questioning. “I’m saying that the department’s resources were stretched that night.”

  I let it go, not wanting to waste our limited time discussing the bureaucracy of the department. Instead, I asked, “But you saw her?”

  King nodded, made sure this wasn’t on record, and explained the violence he saw inflicted on Jane Doe. I was horrified by what I was hearing, and hated the fact that we couldn’t prove any of this ever happened—at least not until Jane Doe’s body was located and identified.

  “The body was dumped,” he said, “left to rot in an alleyway.”

  “And you don’t know how old she was, who this person is, or if it’s any of the missing girls we’re looking for?”

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I wish I had answers. Believe me, I do. I want to know what’s happening as much as you do.”

  “Was she a prostitute?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. LT pulled me off the scene once Eva came to our attention.”

  My eyebrows stitched. “Pulled off the scene?”

  I wondered how much more he wasn’t telling me, but suddenly I was again thinking about how it seemed crimes were going unreported. Was someone doing this on purpose? If so, why? Was it to make their résumé seem better than it actually was, or was it to hide a secret? As I stared into King’s eyes, I moved Jane Doe up on my list of priorities of questions I needed answered.

  “We’re getting way off track here,” King said. “Eva is talking. What did she say?”

  I told him how Eva was sugaring and mentioned the website she’d showed us and that she was dating older men who happily gifted her expensive items—possibly even paying her rent and tuition.

  King told the forensics on Eva’s rape test came back inconclusive. “There were signs of intercourse but Eva admitted to having sex the day before she was abducted.”

  An inconclusive report meant there wasn’t enough evidence to say whether she’d been raped or not. It wasn’t the conclusion I was hoping to hear, but I still had my doubts Eva was abducted at all.

  King’s cell kept beeping as I asked, “Do you think she made it up?”

  He ignored his device and said, “I don’t know. But what I do know is that her experience doesn’t match what we think might have happened to Megan Hines.”

  I was careful not to lead him on when I asked, “How many suspects is the department pursuing?”

  King wasn’t at liberty to discuss the specifics. He’d already crossed the line and shared too much. But I gave him my word and promised to keep this quiet, not wanting my written words to have a direct impact on this case until an arrest had been made.

  “Then can you answer this?” I said “Was Eva ever reported missing with the police?”

  King whispered, “No.”

  I touched my temple and thought about her solitary life—thought about the men she admitted to dating and the webcam and lights pointing to her bed. Eva still had the bruises purpling her body like she’d been beat up, but until I spoke with her male suitors, there wasn’t enough evidence to confirm her story.

  As if reading my mind, King said, “The older men Eva said she was dating, did you get their names?” When I asked why, King said, “Apparently, Jenny was also sleeping with an older man.”

  That was news to me. I asked for a name, but King couldn’t share. He finally glanced to his phone and I slipped further into my thoughts, wondering if there was a connection between victims. If they were connected with a single suspect, he was smart enough to make us question our path. If they were not connected, then we were likely looking for two dirt bags.

  I asked, “What else can you tell me about Jenny Booth?”

  King took his eyes off his phone, snapped his head up, and looked me in the eye. “I gotta go.”

  “What it is?” I feared I might have pushed him too far.

  King hustled to the door and said, “A body has been found. It might be one of our missing girls.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Allison arrived late to South High, parked near the entrance, and exited her car in a hurry. Making her way to the front of the school, she pushed past the black exhaust billowing from the backs of buses pulling away from the curb. High schoolers hung out the windows, laughing and yelling into air at nothing in particular. Allison pulled her attention away from them and noticed blue ribbons tied to handrails and hanging beneath lamp posts.
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  Hooking her thumb through the strap of her tote bag, she watched as the ribbons fluttered in the afternoon summer breeze, spaced between student-made signs calling for Megan Hines’s safe return.

  Shortening her gait, Allison felt her throat close, swearing to herself that these signs and ribbons hadn’t been here yesterday—at least not to her recollection. However, she was happy to know not all had forgotten about Megan. There was still hope; and hope, she could live with.

  When her cellphone buzzed in her bag, she stopped to dig it out. Her thoughts traveled to last night and the girl found in Park Hill. Allison hadn’t heard an update from Samantha and wondered if the victim’s name had been released. More importantly, she said a quick prayer for Megan’s safe return.

  “Allison?”

  Allison closed out her message from work and was surprised to see her friend, Susan, heading her way. “Susan, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to pick up my goddaughter.”

  “I didn’t know you had a goddaughter.”

  Susan was explaining who Naomi was when suddenly the doors opened behind them and Naomi exited the school. Gliding over with her backpack hanging off her square shoulders, Naomi casually stopped and stood next to Susan with a glum look on her face. “Naomi, this my friend Allison.”

  “We know each other,” Naomi said.

  A surprised look flashed over Susan’s eyes, and Allison mentioned her volunteering with the volleyball team, the reason she was here now. “Speaking of which, I’m already late.” Allison shifted her eyes to Naomi. “No practice for you today?”

  Naomi diverted her eyes. “I can’t.”

  “What? Why? Is everything okay?”

  Naomi tucked her chin and said, “It’s, uh…”

  “Go on,” Susan said to Naomi. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

  “I’m sorry; did I say something wrong?” Allison asked.

  Susan sighed. Pointing to the blue ribbons, she said, “We just learned Naomi’s best friend is now missing, too.”

  Allison gasped and threw a hand over her mouth. She stared into Susan’s eyes, hoping it wasn’t true. But when Susan mentioned the missing girl was Jenny, Allison understood why Naomi had been acting the way she was.

  Remembering Jenny wearing the baggy shorts only the day before, Allison asked, “How long has it been?”

  “Since last night.”

  “Naomi must be devastated.”

  “Naomi’s mother asked me to pick her up. I can only imagine what she’s going through.”

  Allison faced Susan and asked, “Have you told Sam?”

  “I called her earlier—”

  They were interrupted by the sounds of a news van’s wheels skidding on the pavement behind them when coming to a hard stop. The van door slid open, and the women watched the camera crew get set up to report live. Allison’s head was spinning, still not fully grasping the severity of what was happening, or why.

  “He actually listened,” Susan whispered.

  Allison rolled her neck, faced her friend, and said, “Who actually listened?”

  Susan blinked away her gaze. “I mentioned Jenny’s disappearance to TV executive Owen Daniels.” She hugged Allison and said, “I got to go. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

  Allison watched Susan trot her way to the van, where she had a quick interaction with one of the crew members before waving another goodbye to Allison. Then she joined Naomi as Allison stayed out front and watched her friend drive away.

  Feeling like she should do something, Allison hurried into the school and was immediately stopped by security. She mentioned she was here for volleyball practice, here to assist Coach Bennett. The new face didn’t seem to care about anything other than corralling everyone either in or out of the building.

  The security officer motioned for Allison to make a decision. “If you’re here to stay, all visitors are required to check in at the front office before proceeding.”

  Allison headed toward the office. She felt the tension and distrust in the air, and could see looks of uncertainty on the several faces she passed. Once inside the front office, she asked the secretary what was happening.

  “We’re closing school early. I can’t go into specifics, but extracurricular activities have also been canceled tonight.” The secretary knew Allison volunteered with the volleyball team and ensured her Coach Bennett was still in the building if she wanted to speak with him.

  With her visitor pass around her neck, Allison left the office and walked the halls, once again thinking about Naomi and Jenny. She wondered what it was about this school that seemed to attract bad behavior. Were these girls more vulnerable than at any other school? Allison didn’t know enough to answer that question.

  Coach Bennett was at his desk when Allison arrived. She knocked lightly on his door. He lifted his head and waved for her to come inside. Allison stepped inside the room and saw he was watching the news.

  “That’s Jenny’s mom, Ruth,” he said, pointing the clicker to the TV. Allison joined him as they watched the interview with Ruth. “No one knows what happened to her.”

  Allison let her hand fall to his shoulder. He looked her in the eye and forced a smile.

  “Practice has been canceled,” he said.

  “I know.” Allison continued looking in his watery eyes, wanting to smooth out the knots she could feel forming in his shoulders. “How are you doing?”

  Bennett shook his head and looked away. “Not good.”

  Just when Allison didn’t know what to say, breaking news brought their attention back to the TV. Allison looked up and saw the reporter parked outside the front of the school speaking into the camera.

  “We just received word a body has been discovered,” the reporter said, “and it’s believed to be a student from South High.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  I left before King, promising to make my arrival look like I hadn’t followed him to the scene. It was important that King didn’t come across as playing favorites or worse, breaking the law by leaking confidential information to the press without authority. It was a constant juggling act, but one we were willing to play in order to stay together.

  Several miles down the road, I broke his tail and split right. Though we were both heading to the South Platte River on the north side of town, I took the side streets to slow my travel. Breaking left, I reached for my cellphone and decided to call in reinforcements to make certain this crime was properly documented. The city couldn’t afford to have another Jane Doe go missing without a trace, and neither could I—especially if it was one of the missing girls we were all looking for.

  Erin answered after the second ring.

  “Turn on the news,” I said, listening to Erin move through her house. When she asked what was happening, I told her, “A body has been found.”

  “Is it one of our girls?”

  “I don’t know. Is anyone reporting on it yet?”

  I could hear Erin flicking through the channels, then she dropped a bomb on me that completely knocked me off balance. “You’re not going to guess whose picture I found on the escort site.”

  “Whose?” I said without a thought.

  “Archie Smith.”

  I froze. I couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Did he use his own name?”

  Erin confirmed he had, then said, “Posed as a suiter.”

  I stopped at a red light and pressed the palm of my hand into my left eye. Was that the reason he was after Eva? Did he want her as a date? Or was he one step ahead of us all in knowing about an active serial killer? I thought how Eva couldn’t say with certainty if Archie was her kidnapper or not. That bothered me, but I couldn’t fault her for not knowing.

  I asked Erin, “Did they exchange messages?”

  “Nothing,” Erin said. “And when I asked if he was the one who took her, she couldn’t say for sure. I’m not sure Eva recalls exactly what happened. Her story keeps shifting.”

  I knew as much
. Feared this might be the case.

  The light flicked to green and I punched the gas. Racing off the line, I didn’t like the doubt I heard in Erin’s voice. Eva’s story needed to be solid if she expected us to make any progress, but I had to accept she might not be the perfect witness.

  “Here we go,” Erin said. “Looks like 9News is on scene and reporting from the banks of the South Platte.”

  I tipped forward and glanced up at the sky. A news chopper flew overhead as I approached. “Are they reporting the victim’s name?”

  “Sam, how did we miss this?”

  “What are they saying?” I asked, telling her this must be huge with the news chopper flying overhead.

  “They don’t have a name, just reporting that a female body was found buried in a shallow grave. Apparently discovered by a man walking along the bike path.”

  Why hadn’t Dawson called? And who was this girl? I prayed it wasn’t one of the missing girls, but something told me it was.

  “Sam, you want me to meet you?”

  I told her to search Archie’s book about shallow graves and said, “Stay with Eva. We can’t leave her alone with Archie circling our waters.”

  “Oh Christ,” Erin sighed.

  “What is it?”

  “Now they’re saying it’s one of the missing girls.” Erin’s voice cracked as I heard her say a quick prayer. “Sam, what are we going to do?”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  The news was devastating, but who was it? Jenny or Megan? That was what bothered me most. I needed to know what to expect once I arrived.

  I reached the scene shortly after ending my call with Erin, and it was as chaotic as I imagined it would be. Parking was nonexistent, and I resorted to parking on the grass. I doubted I would get a ticket—the police were a bit preoccupied—but I didn’t care anyway. I just needed to get the story before we lost another one to the mayor’s magical eraser.

  Swinging my door open, I ran across the asphalt toward the banks of the river and was quickly lassoed in by a young uniformed officer. The cops had the media corralled into a small roped off box far away from where anything could be seen, videoed, or photographed. I reluctantly obeyed his orders.