There Was a Crooked Man: A Psychological Thriller

by Katrina Morgan

  Hopkins rattled off the next task. “We need warrants for phone records, credit cards, financials, and the Red Cab Deluxe Company. Hospitals need to be called too.”

  Darrow agreed. “I’ll call the DA on the way to the precinct. You’re staying here, right?”

  “You bet. I’ll interview the receptionist as soon as she gets here. I want to watch the tapes again, too. Take Mr. Werner with you. Finish the list of family, friends, neighbors, clients—whoever has any contact with Katie. We need Jack’s fingerprints too. Oh, and his permission to open Katie’s phone. We don’t have time to wait for the damn phone company.”

  Darrow steered Jack toward the patrol car. “Come on, Jack, let’s get you out of here.” Jack sat in the front seat this time.

  Hopkins took a big breath and called the police chief, “We’re gonna need a task force immediately. We’re working on subpoenas and should have them in front of a judge in an hour. We need to check local hospitals too.”

  Police Chief Greer, a skinny man with a nose too large for his face, yelled into the phone, “Goddammit! How many officers do you need?” He glared at the TV.

  “Two? Maybe three?” Hopkins answered.

  “We don’t have the budget for that! I can give you two, maybe.”

  “We got a wide area to cover in a short period. Plus, the employer, neighbors, clients, and family. She’s been gone more than a day.”

  “How’d this get so out of control? Why’d you wait so long?” Greer pounded his desk. “This thing has been all over the news already.”

  “The husband was acting strange. We didn’t consider anyone else.”

  Greer sighed. “I’ll see who’s available since the media are flapping their jaws non-stop.”

  Back at the police department, Darrow got Jack’s signature of release and wrote out a complete list of contacts. “Her parents are both dead. Correct?”

  Jack nodded.

  “No cousins? No girlfriends? College roommate?”

  “No other family and Katie didn’t go to college. We don’t have time for socializing.”

  “How about your side of the family? Any reason to believe she could be visiting them?”

  “She’d never go there. We barely speak.”

  “We need their numbers anyway.”

  Off to the side in his notes, Darrow wrote, “Katie is completely isolated.”

  Chief Greer barreled into the office. “I’ve got two guys with Hopkins at the medical center. That gives us one more here, Jenkins.”

  “Got it.”

  Darrow pulled Tyler Jenkins into the conference room. “Call all local hospitals, check on a Kathryn Werner or Jane Doe from yesterday to today. Track all information here,” he pointed to a whiteboard, “and try the D.A.’s office again. We need those records!”

  Turning to Jack, Darrow announced, “I’m gonna get your prints and take you home.”

  “Home? What if you find her?”

  “We’ll keep you posted every step of the way.” Darrow’s phone rang, and he read the screen, already turning toward the door, he motioned Jack to follow.

  Hopkins was on the phone, “Did you file the warrant?”

  “Jenkins is still trying to get ahold of the prosecutor. What’s going on there?”

  “Nothing in the car. Locks aren’t forced. The receptionist recognized Katie. Said she used the lobby phone to call her husband. She doesn’t remember seeing her after that.”

  “Jesus. This is a mess. Can we verify the phone call?”

  “Add it to the warrant. Come get me when you're done. We need to go see the aunt.”

  Darrow drove Jack home, barely stopping the car to let him out at the curb. At the courthouse, Darrow ran into the district attorney and propelled him toward the judge's chambers. The only available judge listened to their story and signed the requested warrants.

  Darrow called Jenkins. “Pull those records and keep me posted.”

  Leaving the television on, Katie spread out the classified section of the paper she’d bought earlier. “I need a truck. No one will be looking for me in a pickup, especially Jack.” She circled four possibilities and pulled out her new flip phone. She asked questions with each call, “How’s the body? How about maintenance? Leaks? Accidents? Original tires?”

  Katie scribbled notes, and dollar amounts across her notebook. She circled the ad most in line with her budget. The Dodge Dakota was listed at $1900 and had what the owner called a “ding” in the passenger door. Katie hoped it meant she’d get the vehicle cheaper. Without wi-fi, she couldn’t do any research and wasn’t willing to use any of her precious minutes or data anyway. She pursed her lips. Chad’s interest might pay off after all.

  Walking into the motel office, Katie stroked her ponytail and smoothed her shirt. Chad’s eyes followed her hands.

  “Can I use your computer, Chad? I’d like to check out the Kelly Blue Book site. See if any of these cars I’m looking at are priced correctly and get some tips.”

  Chad happily ushered Katie into the cramped office, shoving paperwork and, what looked to be his own bills out of the way. Katie slid into a yellow plastic chair and accessed the internet.

  Chad leaned against the doorframe, watching until the phone rang, and he turned away.

  With Chad gone, Katie opened a new page and left it open to show a 2013 Nissan Sentra. She exited the office and, seeing Chad still on the phone, mouthed, “Thanks! You helped a lot.”

  He waved back and gave her a thumbs-up sign.

  Armed with new information, Katie headed back to her room and called the truck owner again. “I forgot to ask if you have the title?”

  Sensing a potential sale, Rob, the owner, talked faster, “Yep. It’s here at the house.”

  “And how about the odometer reading? It needs to be notarized,” Katie stated, grateful to have read that piece of information as a subtopic in Kelly’s Blue Book.

  “The Odometer form has already been taken care of,” Rob assured, smugly. “We’re ready to go on this end.”

  Katie arranged to see the truck the next day and wrote down the address. Checking the map she’d snatched from Dollar General, she calculated the distance between the motel and Rob’s house. “Less than five miles.”

  She pulled out the ratty, motel phone book and called a local cab company, confirming they picked up passengers from City Manor Motel. She didn’t schedule the ride, as it would be odd to call an entire day ahead.

  Chapter 35

  Tearing into the medical complex, Darrow braked beside Hopkins. “Ready?”

  “Yeah. I’m sending these guys,” Hopkins jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at two other officers, “to the victim’s neighborhood. We’ll see if they turn up anything.” He jumped in the car, rubbing his chin in aggravation. “This doesn’t feel right.”

  “What?”

  “The whole thing. It doesn’t feel like a mugging or abduction, or any damn thing.”

  Darrow agreed. “Let’s wait to see what the warrants and interviews tell us.”

  While other reports continued to work the dumpster angle, investigative journalist, Bruce, and his camera operator, Dave, watched the police car screech to a halt. When the lieutenant jumped inside the squad car, Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Wanna see where they go?”

  Dave shrugged. “Up to you, man.”

  Bruce considered for just a few seconds. “Follow them. The boss has been giving me shit all morning, screaming we need a new angle.”

  Hopkins checked his watch. “It’s almost two. It'll take what? Three and a half hours to get to Atlanta?”

  Darrow nodded.

  Hopkins pulled out his phone. “We need to speed things up.” He called Jenkins to see if any data was back yet.

  Jenkins, who was the department tech geek, had stressed himself through an entire bag of potato chips, waiting on information. He was happy to have at least something to report when Hopkins called. “Cell phone calls and credit reports are coming in now, sir.”
>
  “Good. Send it to me on the car’s computer. I want feet on the ground, questioning Katie's clients and neighbors.” He hung up before Jenkins could answer. Turning to Darrow, he asked, “What's the aunt’s number? I want to call and make sure she'll be home.”

  Darrow raised his butt off the driver’s seat to reach the notebook in his back pocket. He tossed it to Hopkins. “Turn to the last page.” Concentrating on getting out of the city, he didn’t notice the white van keeping pace and following behind.

  Bruce and Dave stayed four or five car lengths behind the police car all the way into Atlanta. Bruce spent his time Googling different versions of Katie’s name—Katie, Kathryn, Werner, and Follings--across the internet, Snapchat, Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter. “There’s nothing about this woman. It’s weird.”

  When Darrow and Hopkins pulled up in front of Susan’s villa, Bruce and Dave parked a block away to bide their time. It gave Bruce a chance to search the address. His research gave him Susan’s full name, which sent him back to Facebook. “Finally. It seems this lady, at least, has some kind of life.” He scrolled through dozens of pictures Susan had posted and found one of Katie. “Hah!” He yelled and pointed towards Susan’s house, “This is Kathryn’s aunt.”

  Susan Garrison had been eagerly waiting for the police and waved them inside as soon as she heard the doorbell. She’d tidied the living room and applied fresh makeup.

  “We know your niece’s disappearance is upsetting, but we have questions. It’s easier to ask in person.” Darrow and Hopkins quickly scanned the open floor plan.

  Susan followed their line of sight. “She’s not here. I promise.”

  She set out a plate of store-bought cookies. She’d zapped them in the microwave, making them as warm as the Cokes she’d pulled from the pantry. “I’m worried and scared. I love Katie as if she were my own daughter.” She sank into the couch and gave background, “My sister and her husband both died when Katie was still in high school.” She continued with details about Katie’s life, the restaurant, and meeting Jack. “…and before I knew it, they’d flown to Vegas and gotten married.”

  Darrow took careful notes while Hopkins asked the questions. “When did you last see Katie? When did she call you? Did you hear anything odd in her voice? What can you tell us about her relationship with Jack?”

  “Is he a suspect?” Susan’s voice grew louder, “Tell me what you know.”

  “We have no suspects. We’re just following leads,” Darrow answered smoothly.

  Susan let out a sigh. “Well, we never talked much about her marriage or Jack.”

  Aunt Susan told them Jack had called the day before. “He never calls unless Katie is here. And even then, he hardly ever lets her visit.” Susan gave away other tidbits. “He watches her phone, makes her keep our calls to under thirty minutes. I’m tellin’ ya’ll, he’s done something to her.” Susan stood to pace the room.

  Hopkins pounced on the statement. “Did you ever see evidence that Jack hurt Katie?”

  Susan frowned. “No, it’s just a feeling I have. I don’t think things have been good between them for a long time.”

  “How about Katie’s friends?” Darrow asked.

  “Once she got to Savannah, she didn’t seem to have any friends Jack approved of--at least none I can recall.” Susan silently congratulated herself on her wording.

  “Does she have a good relationship with her in-laws, Fred and Sylvia Werner?” Darrow asked.

  “Jack never introduced Katie to his parents.” Susan shook her head, obviously disapproving of yet another thing about Jack. “Katie found them on her own, drove to their house and met them a few times. Other than that, I couldn’t say.”

  Hopkins joined the questioning, “Do you think there could be another man in her life?”

  “Goodness, no! The only other man she loves is Mr. Parker,” Susan paused, anticipating their reaction.

  Both officers looked up quickly. “Mr. Parker?”

  Susan laughed, “Yes, he’s eighty-three and has Alzheimer’s. Katie adores him.”

  The officers frowned simultaneously.

  Darrow scanned his notes. “Orphaned during high school. No known friends.” He’d scribbled in the name City Palette once Susan recalled the name of the restaurant where Katie had been a waitress. He’d circled a sentence about Jack’s parents with a question mark behind it. If she’d gone there on her own already, maybe she’d do it again. He wrote Jack’s name off to the side, added the word controlling, and underlined it twice.

  Both men gave Susan their cards and made her promise to call if she remembered anything else, or if Katie contacted her in any way.

  Darrow drove well above the speed limit, while Hopkins called the station. He put the phone on speaker, so they could both hear the results of the interviews with Katie’s clients, her employer, and neighbors. The story never changed. Katie was well-loved and still very much missing.

  Meanwhile, the reporter sat in Susan’s living room, gobbling up the leftover cookies. Bruce had no trouble expanding the picture Susan painted. The hints were juicy, and he asked questions as his partner filmed. The camera zoomed in on Susan’s craggy face and caught the glint of tears as she made an emotional plea, inviting anyone to come forward with information.

  Bruce hopped back in the van, already talking to Dave, “We’ve got a chance to make the ten o’clock news. Think we can shoot down into Atlanta and get some video of the apartment? The restaurant? It’s a hell of a story.”

  His partner eyed his watch and nodded.

  Once there, Dave filmed the old brick restaurant. Apartments were housed overhead, with rickety fire escapes clinging to the side. Dave adjusted filters to show the shadows, leaving little doubt this area of the city was not experiencing a re-birth.

  Bruce was ecstatic to find out about Renae, who’d worked with Katie years before. He set up a quick interview.

  Renae cried when they asked if she’d heard from Katie. “Not in years. Once Katie got married, the calls came less and less.” Renae was all too happy to tell them about the whirlwind romance, and Vegas wedding. “I told Katie it was too fast.”

  Bruce and Dave hurried out to get footage of Katie’s old neighborhood. Daylight was fading, making the crowded buildings and streets seem dingier. They filmed an abandoned car sitting on blocks, trash cans overflowing, and people of varying colors hanging out on corners.

  “Talk about your Cinderella story,” Dave said as they raced back to Savannah.

  “There’s no way Katherine Werner just walked away.” Bruce edited and uploaded his notes and the video. This story was a thing of beauty, and he had an exclusive.

  Chapter 36

  By 9:33 p.m., six people crowded into the tiny conference room at the police station. The smell of stale coffee and sweat permeated the air. Chief Greer scribbled notes and columns across the top of the whiteboard anchored across one full wall. Facts. Interviews. Ideas? “We need to work this case, people.”

  Hopkins read the columns and nodded. He took the pen out of Greer’s hand and filled in the blanks:

  Time of disappearance approx. 9 am Friday Cooper Medical Complex

  Car in the lot, no other fingerprints except the husband.

  Wallet and phone found in the trash

  “Jenkins, you get anything on the credit cards? Banking?” Hopkins stood poised, ready to write down the latest information.

  Jenkins read his report, “Nothing new on the credit card. Katie isn’t even listed as a co-owner of the card. She has a debit card only. She withdrew five-hundred dollars from their checking account yesterday. The husband, Jack, says the amount matches their regular payday withdrawal. There is, however,” Jenkins hesitated for effect, “one other savings account in Kathryn’s name only.”

  Hopkins spun towards Jenkins. To date, Katie had nothing in her name, not the cars or house. “Where?”

  “First Bank of Atlanta”

  “Activity?”

  “A few smal
l deposits here and there. One transaction pending yesterday. Nothing else for weeks.”

  “So, what happened yesterday?” Hopkins asked, clearly annoyed.

  “Well, that’s the shit of it. Being Saturday, it shows pending. Nothing else.”

  Hopkins created a new column--To Do and wrote Savings account for Katie underneath the header.

  Greer took center stage, again, “Jenkins, I want you monitoring those accounts every hour.”

  Jenkin’s rolled his eyes at the room. “Yes, sir. I won’t be able to do much ‘til Monday, but I’ll keep looking.”

  Hopkins addressed the next item. “Life insurance?”

  “There's a half-million dollar policy on Jack and one small policy on Katie—just ten thousand.”

  “Shit. Living in one of those old houses on Forsyth Park, I figured we’d follow the money.” He rubbed away a growing headache. “How about phone records?”

  “There were no calls made by Katie yesterday. She did, however,” Jenkins rolled his eyes again. “receive seventeen calls from Jack.”

  “Seventeen? He made seventeen calls to her?”

  “Yep, one right after another. He’s fuckin’ obsessive.” Jenkins flushed. “Sorry.”

  “You’re not saying anything we’re not thinking.”

  “He made four other calls. One to his workplace, one to Katie’s employer, the aunt, and the TV station.”

  “Okay. Tell me about the neighbors. Who canvassed them?”

  A young black woman, who Hopkins didn’t recognize, raised her hand.

  “And you are?” He turned his head sideways, listening intently.

  “Thomas, Sir. Jayla Thomas.” She stated clearly and with a fair amount of pride.

  “Ok, Thomas, what’d you learn?”

  “Nobody saw anything unusual. No one seems to know Jack well. He waves and socializes occasionally, but generally keeps to himself. Katie is well-liked. Their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Donohue, says Jack helps her from time to time but is convinced Jack mistreats Katie. The lady said she “notices” things.” Jayla bracketed her fingers in the air, emphasizing the word notices. “Anyway, she claims to have witnessed bruises, and a little slap a few months ago.”