By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
A filthy room, derelict and grimy. Used food containers and miscellaneous garbage is scattered on the floor. Plastic billows in the windows, the only relief from the oppressing heat. Plywood walls with graffiti from some local gang is splattered across the walls, randomly threatening some alternate gangs’ members. In the corner, a small 2 chair table set. On the table is a perfectly folded, clean set of clothing inside a thick clear plastic sack, zipped closed. On one of the chairs is a backpack. This corner of the room is so clean it sits there like an oasis in a desert of filth.
A large blue tarp covers most of the rooms floor. On it lays a woman, barely alive. Surgical cuts seemingly random all over her body. Blood is all around her, obvious smudges arc through it, evidence of her writhing. She is naked, her blonde hair matted with dirt and blood, surrounds her like a halo. Her face is perfect, she is beautiful and other than the smudge of black mascara under her eyes there isn’t a mark on her face.
She is too weak to fight any more as she struggles to hold on to consciousness, praying perhaps this last desperate attempt at anything just may free her.
He stands over her straddling her legs with his feet. He stares down and revels in his ‘art’ work. Pleased with himself. His hair slightly curled in that somehow nondescript color of brown. It hangs from his head and drips with his sweat. His dull grey track suit is covered in blood and bits of flesh. Some goo is new, and some is dried on from other adventures. He worked hard and the evidence is below him. In his right hand is a large knife, now dripping with her blood. He steps to her left side and kneels beside her. Terror in her large set eyes with hot tears that have already created lines down her face slowly fall, to rest beside her ears.
He gently strokes her hair with his left hand, somehow there is a look of love and adoration in his eyes. He turns to look at her stomach and strokes her skin with his knife. He curves his hand and points the tip just above her right hip, slowly dipping the blade into her flesh. He pulls the steel across her abdomen to the other hip. She moans trying to scream. Both cold and hot the blade slices through her. He turns his head and looks at her adoringly. He puts down the knife and dips his hand inside her, his fingers finding her intestines he gently pulls them out of the hole he just created. He loves the warm wet feel of them. Like uncooked sausages just slightly less firm. He pushes her organs back inside the hole. A last quiet moan escapes her lips. He knows she has only seconds left.
This event for him is sexual and as such, he feels the hardness of his cock in his pants. His brain is on fire with the knowledge of the release moments away. He stands, pulls down his pants and frees his flesh, gripping it in his blood-soaked hand. Somehow her cries register as pleasure in his mind. Each sound from her feels like a release. He is sure that all he has done to her is erotic and it is making her cum. He grunts while he pulls on himself. Admiring his work. It takes only seconds for his ejaculate to spurt out of his body. He sprays it on her face. He screams to the room; this one seems the best of them all. His body jerks and contorts while the orgasm shoots through him like lightning.
Panting, he quickly shoves his flesh back inside his worn sweat pants and kneels again beside her. She is gone. He smears both his ejaculate and some of her own blood across her face, leans forward and kisses her. He slips his tongue inside her mouth. He loves her and is proud of the pleasure he just gave her.
He stands, turns, and walks over to the backpack and from inside he removes a container of disinfecting wipes and puts them on the table. Then he opens the container and pulls out several sections out of it. He proceeds to clean his hands carefully and wipes the outside of the container. He then reaches back inside the backpack and finds a rectangular package wrapped in cloth.
He returns to her corpse with the package and the wipes. He clears a portion of the tarp with the cleaners and carefully opens his parcel and places this on the clean section of tarp. From around his neck hangs a key. He unwraps the package and inside this is a silver box, slightly larger than a pencil box. He takes off the necklace and with the key he opens the box. Found inside are several small urine sample containers. Some have a clear fluid in them while others also have some bits of flesh floating in the fluid inside of them. He removes the lid off an empty one and places this on the fabric next to the box.
He takes more wipes out of the container and turns to her again. He leans forward and carefully parts her legs and with the wipes he cleans her labia and inner flesh. He then disinfects the knife making sure that the blade and the handle are completely sanitized. He reaches down, parts her again and carefully slices her clitoris off. Taking his treasure and putting it inside the container of fluid, he smiles. Gazing lovingly at his prize, he replaces the lid and puts it inside the lock box, closes and locks it. This he wipes down again before rewrapping it. He rises and walks back to the chair, leans over, and puts it back inside his backpack along with the wipes.
He looks at his handiwork again, sighs and says, “Oh Sandra, what have we done?” Its time to clean up.
On the window sill is an old boom box, that continuously plays “Oh Sandy” from the movie Grease. Against the wall, under the window is a long counter. It has a top made of concrete that has a smooth shiny surface. Set into this is a large steel set of sinks with a side steel draining surface and hot and cold taps. The entire set up is made with 2 x 4’s and plywood. Under this sink, behind dirty curtains is a large cupboard with a locked door. Inside, on the shelves are bottles of chemicals including bleach and a large bottle of white vinegar. Boxes of large black garbage bags and multiple rolls of black duct tape. A box of 5 white disposable coveralls with 2 missing are also found here with a box of large surgical gloves, the box is opened and partially used. All of these are set on clean shelves and are organized with the labels facing outward. This organization is methodical and purposeful.
He leaves the room, taking his backpack with him. When he returns, he is showered and wearing only a surgical hair net and disposable booties. His stark white body has random black and gray nonsensical tattoos haphazardly drawn on a body that is slim and toned, devoid of all hair, he is now slick and clean. He puts on one of the hazmat suits, goggles, surgical gloves. He duct tapes these gloves to the sleeves of the hazmat suit. He then sits on the chair and from his backpack he takes out and puts on black socks and clean slip-on style black tennis shoes. The socks are taped to the legs of the suit. He wears a protective respirator. He’s ready to work. He reaches into a side pocket of the backpack and takes out a set of keys. He uses these keys to open the cupboard.
He starts humming to the music while he takes out the Vinegar pouring a large amount into a large bucket that is in the sink. To this he adds luke warm water and a generous squirt of Palmolive soap. He puts on dish gloves and swished the water. Puts a large sponge in the bucket.
He turns again, and starts to wrap the body in the tarp, taking care to make sure that there is no exposure anywhere. He uses the duct tape and seals the carcass inside. He takes the vinegar water soap mixture and starts to wash every surface in the room, even areas that were never exposed to his activities. He is careful to push aside all the garbage against the walls. He wipes the outside of the body sack, turns it over and cleans it more. The bucket is emptied in the sink. The entire endeavor takes over an hour. He pulls 2 extra-large 65-gallon heavy duty black plastic bags and brings it to the wrapped body. Putting the corpses bottom half into the bag. Good thing she was small. The bag fits around to the shoulders. He tapes it on and does the same in reverse. Head to knees. Tapes again. Now it looks like a discarded Christmas tree in a bag. He drags this outside about 10 feet from the door next to the woods and leaves it on the ground. This cabin is miles from anyone and only a bare track shows any evidence of a trail. He returns to the room. Now he pours a sudsing ammonia into the bucket half filled with hot water. He cleans the entire room once again. He then distributes and displays the garbage around the room, as if it were never disturbed. He drops the kitchen gloves and goggles on the counter by the sink.
Outside he takes a wheelbarrow and puts the ‘tree’ inside it and pushes it down a small hill. At the bottom of the hill is an old well. It hasn’t been used in a very long time, only 2 rows of bricks show above the ground and it is almost completely overtaken by vines and small shrubs. He takes the lid off the well and with effort drops the package down the well, closing it behind him. This area of Montana is thick with forest. Only those who know the area would even know of the existence of the well. He whistles while he trudges back up the hill to the cabin. He leans the wheelbarrow against the side of the building and goes back inside. He untapes his wrists and removes the surgical gloves, removes the tape on his ankles and puts all inside a new garbage bag.
Inside the makeshift kitchen he looks under the sink and takes out a bottle of orange soap, a nail brush, and a fresh sponge. Then from the table he grabs the clear plastic sack of clothing. He showers again making sure to scrub his entire body. From follicle to toenail he completely removes all loose skin and any possible debris. He steps onto a fresh disposable pad on the floor and dries himself off. Dresses and puts on disposable booties again. He takes all these things back to the room and puts it all away. Tucking the clear plastic zipper bag under the sink along with the remaining chemicals. The worn track suit that was jammed inside a plastic shopping bag is also stuffed under the sink. The cupboard is locked and then his towel is put inside the backpack. Sitting on the chair he puts on dress socks and shoes completing his look. A nice black suit, white shirt and red tie. He squirts some cologne and prepares to leave.
| Author Notes | This story starts out with the first known murder - it is very graphic. As the chapters continue it turns into the crime portion. |
By EILEEN LAW
It's a cool winter night, 2 women are sitting at a table in a darkly lit bar. At the Crystal bar, music thrums around them with colored lights flashing on random surfaces.
A few scattered couples are dancing on the floor, in the center of the room. The girls are wearing jeans with white men's dress shirts. Intentionally dressing the same for their night out. These shirts are collar up, sleeves are turned and pulled back and there is an elastic belt around their waists, a butterfly clasp holding the belts closed. The shirt is mildly draped over the belt, and it hang down past the waist of the skin tight jeans. Both women have back combed hair and blue eye shadow. Geometric neon earrings complete the look. The height of fashion in 1987.
They have carefully chosen the table. The bar is rectangular, and they sit at the far-left corner from the entrance. There are 2 fruity drinks in front of them and an overfull ashtray between them. Best friends since high school they chatter and giggle randomly behind their hands.
Across the bar in the opposite corner are 2 handsome young men. One seemingly either Hispanic or maybe even Indian. The other a light brunette. They wear jeans, t-shirts and suit jackets, the sleeves pulled back. One has a beer the other a dark liquid in a glass. Each randomly sipping on their drinks between comments.
"Do you see those guys over there?" Aliss whispers to Janice behind her hand.
Janice, the bolder of the two says, "Yup, the tanned one is so hot".
"I prefer the other one, he is so handsome and way out of my league. So, why bother."
"You shouldn't't be so down on yourself, you're pretty. You just lack confidence and all guys like confidence. I'll show you, let's go!"
She stands and grabs her friends hand pulling her up and away from the table.
Aliss was always the plainer one of the two. Average height, average looks. Blonde hair just passed her shoulders, bright blue eyes and just a few pounds past her goal weight. All those annoying pounds huddling between her breasts and thighs, creating a pear shape. Luckily her face, arms and calves always remained trim. She had a full mouth and there was something about her that took her looks from just past plain to almost pretty. She has had very little experience with romance and men. She is awkward and sometimes clumsy. How she got a friend like Janice always puzzled her.
Janice, a bolder brunette is classically beautiful with long brown hair, beautiful doe eyes and pouty lips. She is petite in every way except her personality. She is outspoken and opinionated, direct and confident. Men would follow her with their eyes every where she went and some even followed her, hoping to get to know her more. She is selective on those who get her attention.
She always felt like Aliss was a bit of a project. She loves her in an older sister kind of way. She knows Aliss is shy at first but once you get to know her, she opens up and is quite funny. She is a fiercely protective and dedicated friend. Non-judgmental. Lord knows Janice needs non-judgmental. She hasn't always made the right choices in life.
Aliss follows her friend, stumbling at first then carefully by her side. Aliss always makes sure that Janice is on the viewing side of any walk. Trying to use Janice as a shield of sorts. The two saunter past the men, pretending not to notice them. Their chosen course taking them to the ladies room on the opposite corner of the bar and their table. The two rush into the bathroom giggling.
"Aliss, he looked at you! He was checking you out!" Exclaimed Janice excitedly.
"No way, Jose he was totally looking at you! They always look at you."
"Jeez he totally was gawking at you. I saw him."
"Who? The brown guy or the other one?"
"The other one. Remember, the brown one is mine!"
"Really? What do I do now? Do I ignore him? Do I smile? Dare I walk past him again? Do we leave? Oh, let's leave. I can't, oh God, I don't know what to do!" Aliss, very nervous, washes her hands.
"Aliss, chill. We just walk back to our table, going the other way. Sit down and pretend we saw nothing. Guys want to chase girls, not the other way around." Janice takes a moment to reapply her lip gloss, accentuating her perfect mouth.
When they get back to the table there are 2 fresh drinks and a napkin with writing on it. Aliss sees it first. When she reaches for the note, Janice snatches it out of her hand.
"No! You're not supposed to notice it at first, it makes you look desperate." Janice turns and then starts to read the note.
"I thought you said not to notice it?" says Aliss a little perturbed.
"Too late now. OMG Aliss, its for you!" Janice has her and on her mouth with a look of astonishment on her face. She starts to jump up and down.
Janice chants, "Aliss has a hottie, Aliss has a hottie!"
Aliss loudly whispers, "Janice stop, please stop, they are looking at us." She then buries her face in her hands.
"Ok, Ok. But look!" She shoves the note towards her friend. Aliss nervously takes the wrinkled napkin and reads, 'The brunette is pretty, but I always preferred blondes, Mike.'
Shocked Aliss slowly looks up at her friend. Her hand shakes as she puts the note down. Sheepishly she looks past her friend and sees Mike smiling at her. Her heart drops into her stomach and she quickly closes her eyes, disbelieving what she sees.
Mike and his companion walk over to their table. Aliss doesn't notice as she is still sitting with her eyes closed and now has her hands on her face. The whole while Janice is going on and on with advice and excitement, talking non-stop.
Soon enough the 2 men are at the table, Janice with her back to them doesn't notice until a hand touches her on her right shoulder.
"Hello ladies, may we join you?" A sweet Hispanic accent melodically inquires.
Janice spins around, looks into the eyes of the man who spoke and quickly moves back to her seat to sit next to her friend.
"Please sit down, I'm Janice and this is my friend Aliss."
"I am pleased to meet you, mi querida, I am Manuel." He says, his hand on his heart slightly tilting his head with a small nod, without taking his eyes off of Janice.
Mike sits beside a flustered Aliss. Her face is very red and she seems unable to speak. Janice is occupied in conversation with Manuel.
Mike gently takes Aliss's hand in his and says, "don't worry, I won't bite."
She doesn't miss a beat and says, "shame" before realizing that her tongue got away with her. Impossible, but she got even redder.
This comment made Mike burst out in laughter beside her. Somehow this calmed her down enough to look at his face and into his eyes. Smiling at him she mumbles, "Sorry, I don't know what I said or why".
"Don't ever change that about you. I like it." Mike smiles, the sparkle in his blue eyes flash for a moment as if timed perfectly.
Mike is just over 6ft tall, light brown short hair, blue eyes and in good shape. Fitness is an important part of his day. He was raised in a middle-class neighborhood by white collar parents. Dad is a lawyer and mom an executive in an advertising agency. He met Manuel at school. He learned that Manuel was from Argentina and was awarded a medical school scholarship by some unknown benefactor. It wasn't easy for Manuel to get the student visa and therefore he is a couple of years older than Mike. They are both brilliant students, top of their classes. Manuel is only an inch shorter than Mike and also enjoys the gym, they are often working out together. Going to a bar was a rare event for them, with long study sessions consuming most of their nights. However, they had just completed mid-terms and were taking a break.
The couples exchange pleasantries, light conversations about where they grew up, what they did, and how they all knew each other. Janice reveals that she is a jazzercise instructor at a local fitness center, with dreams of being an actress or a singer, remarking how people often compare her to Chrystal Gale. Manuel and Mike are both medical students at Montana State University. Aliss is a bookkeeper for a construction company.
As the night moves on it becomes apparent that soon the bar will close and everyone will have to make their way outside and leave. Janice by this time has snuggled right up to Manuel. They converse looking at each other, inches from kissing. She fits perfectly under his arm and looks quite comfortable being there. It wouldn't surprise Aliss if they left together.
Aliss then realizes that Janice is her ride home. She mentally prepares to take a taxi, not wanting to disturb her friend and her obvious plans. Many years ago, Aliss stopped warning Janice about going home with strange men, it was fruitless as Janice kept assuring her, she could take care of herself.
The lights come up and the 4 head outside. Janice takes Aliss aside, "hey hun, the guys asked us back to their place to have another drink. Are you coming?"
"Oh no, I can't." She was terrified and just wanted to get away from it all. Mike was very nice, courteous, and respectful. But she didn't know what else to do. Distance was always her friend.
"Come on, take a chance, you might have some fun." Janice pleads. Deep inside she kind of hopes that Aliss says no so she can be alone with Manuel and at the same time genuinely wants her friend to risk it all and join them.
"Uhm, I don't think so, but thanks."
"Ok are you going to be okay getting home? Or do you want to take my car?" Janice offers.
"It's better you take your car, for when you need to leave. I'm ok with a taxi." Aliss as usual putting everyone else first before herself.
"I feel shitty leaving you here, making you take a taxi. I can go home with you, its ok." A look of disappointment is on her face.
"Don't worry about it. You go and have some fun." Aliss responds.
"Ok, but only if you're sure." Janice is happy again.
During this time Mike and Manuel were in another part of the parking lot retrieving Mike's car, a black 1984 Audi. They soon pull up to the girls. Janice approaches the car, "good news, I'm coming!"
Mike looks disappointed. He puts the car in park, gets out and stands in front of Aliss, "why won't you come with us? I promised not to bite, remember?"
"Uhm I, I'm ok with a taxi, really. I, I'm just tired, it's been a long day." She stammers looking at her feet.
Mike gently puts his finger under her chin and pulls it up. "Look at me" he whispers. Slowly she looks up and into his eyes. Her heart pounding in her chest, she is terrified, excited and nervous all at once. What is happening here?
"You are so beautiful to me. I see you completely." He leans down and places a gently kiss on her lips. He knows not to push her. He stands back slightly and says, "here is my number, you call me Monday, after 7. I'll be home from school then. Now get into that taxi and get home safely, ok?"
She can't move. Her legs wont work. She can't breathe, what did he say? In the background Janice whoops at her chanting, "Aliss got a hottie!" She barely registers the sound. Mike gently takes her hand and walks her over to the taxi, putting her inside.
He says to the driver, "make sure she gets home safely" he pays the driver and walks back to his car and leaves.
| Author Notes |
This will start the introduction of main characters in the story. Keep reading to see how it all ties together.
Enjoy! |
By EILEEN LAW
Chapter three
Its 1972 and on the news is a story about 16 survivors from plane crash that are rescued after practicing cannibalism. This fascinates him. Humans eating humans? 11 years old, should he be seeing this story? The maid rushes him out of the room to his bedroom.
His bedroom. Its all too familiar walls both comfort him and cage him. Although he has almost anything a young boy could need, he didn't have companionship or love. His parents ordering him to come home directly from school every day. He had to complete a series of chores and go to his room to do his homework. His parents were either entertaining or working late in their respective offices. After he completed his homework, he must bring it to his father. Knocking on his office door and wait for a response. Most of the time he would be told to open the door immediately, other times shuffling and banging would occur before the door is allowed to be opened. Once the homework is inspected, he would be sent to his room again, to read. Education at the centre of all activities. At precisely 5:30 dinner is ready and at 7:45 his mother would direct him to bathe and brush his teeth. Every day, including in the summer.
Most kids would enjoy summer camping, vacationing or visiting other family. Playing in the park with their families, parents and siblings sometimes with their parents' friends or colleagues. Not him. Summer was an opportunity to learn. Private tutors would be brought in. He was taught German and Italian the other 2 most prominent business languages of the time. He was encouraged to exercise. His parents had a glide-o-matic rudimentary tread mill, stationary bike and rowing machine. These were the best the time had to offer. They also had a private tennis instructor come twice a week to train with him. It was basically one of the only social engagements that he had outside of school.
His parents were best friends with Winne and Howard Dokken of the Dokken Nelson funeral home. These were prominent people, wealthy and a little eccentric. They often threw lavish parties that his parents would attend. Several times a year it would seem that they would try to compete with them and throw their own parties. These nights were the best for him. It would be the only time that his parents would show him off, brag about his accomplishments and give him perfunctory ruffles of his hair before sending him off to bed. But the days up to these parties would be hard. These days there was even less time for him. Often the maid would just bring him sandwiches in his room. Telling him to stay out from under foot. To him it was worth it, knowing the reward coming in the next few days.
Often, when done all his chores and schoolwork, he would tear apart and re-organize his room. He would create lists of things, he had and what he wanted. He took comfort in its organization and order. When he wasn't studying, it was something to do.
One day, his father summoned him to his office. When he arrived, he saw his mother and father together. Father sitting at his desk and his mother standing beside him, her hands on her husbands shoulder and on her hip. They were always extremely tidy and fashionable. The house also was always perfectly tidy and organized. Never a stray paper or book out of place anywhere. His father's office was no exception. He walked into the room and he was suddenly frightened.
"Sit down son" his father said. His father was never a man to waste words.
He sat down in the chair in front of his parents, hands folded in his lap and his eyes on his father. That was something his father demanded of him. Always look a speaker in the eye. It shows respect and that you are paying attention.
"You will be 12 soon. We thought it high time that you took a job." His father said with a matter-of-fact tone. "I got my first job with my father when I was only 9 years old. It taught me discipline and responsibility."
He sat there, excited and anxious. What would this mean? A possibility of a social life? Engaging with other people? Where would he go? What would he do? All of this he kept inside and patiently waited for his father to go on.
This time his mother spoke, "We have been talking to Mr. and Mrs. Dokken about you working at the funeral home. They have an adult daughter who is willing to train you."
A funeral home!? What?! With bodies and stuff! He couldn't take the look of shock from his face. His skin pale and grey, his eyes wide.
"Son, you will be upstairs in the offices. Helping and on occasion greeting people." His father said. "You do what they tell you to do."
"Father, may I ask a question?" He asks.
"No." This was final. This means just do it and don't attempt to disagree or start any argument. Like it or not, he was going to work....at a funeral home.
| Author Notes | Each chapter releases a bit of my imagination. There is an incredible amount of research in my story. All of the information provided are facts. |
By EILEEN LAW
She lifts the cold drink of water to her lips, her face full of anger.
'That bastard' she thinks. 'Misogynistic self-serving prick.' Another day at the station with her forced to spend her day on basic research and very little street work as a detective.
Terry, born Tangerine Rainbow Smythe is 5' 8" with curly brown shoulder length hair. Brown eyes and a square jaw with a small serious mouth. She is a responsible woman with critical thinking. She was always serious thinker, even as a child. She is the complete opposite of her free-spirited fun-loving parents.
As a family, they lived a simple life, grew their own food, made their own soaps and had a house full of worn secondhand furniture. They worked only enough to pay the bills. Both parents were like hippies who just didn't want to completely grow up. Her parents still loved each other like newlyweds, often showering each other and their children with affection. How she ended up this way made no sense but here she is. She frequently loses patience with her parents but also loves them deeply. One or the other often calls her to borrow money â?" lets be real â?" take money that she never gets back.
She has a sister, the only thing in her life that she has a soft spot for. Her sister Karma Sandrine, known to all as Katie girl has developmental disabilities. She is innocent and sweet. She lives with Terry some of the time, when not with their parents. Terry has created a little haven for her sister in her home. The room full of bright colors and soft fabrics. The rest of Terry's home is plain with grey and beige walls and furniture. Each piece of furniture purchased to fulfill its purpose not for flair or design. The refrigerator, however, is covered in rainbows and balloons that Katie girl drew for her sister.
There was only one career that suited Terry. Her degrees in criminology and psychology were interesting to her but not her end goal. After graduation she went straight into the police academy. She spent 30 weeks in San Jose, the only police academy with that long of a term. She did this to maximize her police academy training. She also completed over 150 hours on firearms despite the perfunctory 71 standard hours. She graduated with her control designated marksman certificate and then became a ballistics expert. Her education along with all of the training should have offered her a place in almost any police force. And it did. She spent 6 years on the force in San Jose and was promoted to detective in 5 years instead of 8. That was when the Bozeman Montana Police force offered her, her first position as detective, full time. So, she accepted immediately. She reasoned that her first job as detective in a more peaceful town would be a better way to start. She looked forward to her new position with the Bozeman SRT (Special Response Team).
She did her research, Bozeman's violent crime rate was 3.3 per 1000, considerably lower than most towns. The police departments moto 'The Bozeman Police Department is committed to serving our community with integrity, striving at all times to be transparent and accountable in our work.' Gave her the impression that she would be respected and valued. Boy was she wrong.
Sargent Hayes quickly made it clear he didn't believe that women should be on the force, let alone a detective. She expected to have to prove her capabilities but not by spending her days re-reading psychological profiles of long solved crimes. 'Just to make sure we didn't miss anything.' What a waste of her skills and time. She was often told to file and refile, organize and scan cases. Prepare applications for search warrants and file the necessary paperwork. When she was allowed out on the street, it was usually an early shift, the slowest ones of the day. Hardly any action. She was certain her only street time was given to her only to please the captain, who initially hired her. Sargent Hayes, her supervising officer, begrudgingly took her onto his team.
| Author Notes | This chapter is back into present day - the detective - how will she help solve the missing persons crimes? |
By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Another missing person. Its on the news, in the newspapers and talked about in every bar, coffee shop and beauty salon in the city. That's 3 known missing people in 6 months. The Bozeman Police department is declining to comment save to say, 'We are working hard on these cases and will update the public when we know more.' He smiles to himself. They won't figure it out as they have no clue. They have been searching in the wrong areas, talking to the wrong people. This makes him more self assured and bolder.
He has always been very careful who to pick. Better those that are alone, vulnerable. Those that give him the look. He was watching this one for a while. Making notes as to patterns. Where they walk and when. Destinations and times that they are alone. He even dared introduce himself once, when it was discovered, he was watching. They were both in the park.
"Good afternoon, sorry for staring but you were in my line of sight. See up in that tree? It's a Western Meadowlark. I've been looking for that one for a while. Tick! its now marked off in my book. What are you doing?"
A teen boy, around 14 is leaning against a tree. He is thin only just reaching puberty, stretching up in height but not yet filling out. He is a dark blonde with a dusting of baby hairs on his upper lip. He has on a T-shirt, jeans and runners. He has a black backpack sagging with schoolbooks. His cell phone in his hand and ear buds in his ears.
"Sorry?" He says, pulling on the wire to his ear buds.
"Oh, I thought you were looking at me and heard me. I was saying that I am bird watching and you were in my line of sight." He smiles at the boy. "You can call me Joe â?" what's your name?"
"My friends call me Buddy but its Alexander" He says, "Hey I gotta go, my parents are waiting for me at home." He turns and leaves. Joe watches him go.
| Author Notes | This chapter introduces our killer - or does it? |
By EILEEN LAW
A yawn, a stretch and an attempt to come to life. Saturday morning. It's the best and Aliss gets to stay in bed and watch TV for a while. That is before her cat demands breakfast. Her kitty, a beautiful orange tabby named Keanu. He is named after her favorite movie star. Currently he is laying on her chest while Aliss reclines in her bed stroking his soft fur. She knows the day is getting on and she should get it started.
Janice was picking her up in an hour and taking her shopping for new clothes. Aliss has a date. She squeals a little at the thought. A date. With Mike.
She called him the following Monday night, at exactly 7pm as instructed. The entire day in anticipation, trepidation. How is it possible to blush at a telephone. Her hands were shaking the first three attempts at dialing the phone. Mixing up the numbers in nervousness. Half of her was hoping he wouldn't answer.
"Hello. Right on time I see. Hi Aliss, how was your day?" Mike asks her.
She swallows so loud she is sure he hears her, "Uhm hi, its ok. Kinda boring. I just sit and add numbers all day long, write them in a book. Write a few cheques and repeat."
Her heart is pounding in her ears. She swallows over and over. Twiddling the phone cord.
"Aliss, I want to take you out. Let's go to dinner, just the 2 of us. I appreciate your best friend, but she overshadows you and I want to get to know you. The woman without the friend." Mike says.
"Uhm sure, I guess, ok." She trembles at the thought. She feels both sick and joyous at once. Janice has always been her buffer, always. How can she do this without her? What will she say, what will she do? Oh God.
"Saturday. Where can I pick you up?" he asks.
"Ah, if its ok, I'll meet you somewhere." Her father taught her stranger danger. Always maintain the upper hand. Amongst other tidbits of quotable wisdom.
"Good girl, I like that. Let's meet at 4B's restaurant on Main Street. I'll be there at 7 o'clock." He spoke in an instructional but friendly way.
"Ok. I guess I'll see you there. Saturday at 7." She looks at the ceiling, hoping that some answers to life were written up there.
"Perfect. And Aliss. I like you. Just you. And don't stress, ok. I'll be a perfect gentleman."
A few closing comments and they both hang up.
Aliss immediately called Janice, who shrieks and again in a litany of constant encouragement, advice and somewhat disbelief rambles on and on about what to do, what to wear and how to behave. Almost all of it Aliss doesn't hear. She is still filled with adrenaline and dopamine from that short conversation with Mike.
The days tick by so slowly. Like the hoursglass was filled with molasses instead of sand. The clock never seemed to move. For the next few nights, she would go to bed early hoping this would speed the week up. Most of the time she laid in her bed remembering his handsome face. His gentle hands and the one sweet kiss on her lips. Surprising she got any sleep at all. One day, two days, three. Will this week ever end? She felt like a 6-year-old waiting on her birthday party. Excitement and anticipation. Dum dum da dum....the wedding march in her brain. Dr and Mrs. who? She didn't know is last name. Geez Louise, stop! The date hasn't even happened yet. A virgin who has only been on a half a dozen dates. All as a double date with Janice. It seemed that these dates were a package deal kind of thing. No one ever asking for more time with her, and never any time alone. Her lack of experience keeps her nervous, afraid and frequently alone. Lonely at times. However, she is used to being alone and had set in her mind that was how life was going to be. Now this? What is happening in her life? Ok Ok Aliss get your stuff together.
Janice is coming over. Maybe she should do her hair too? Make up change? Excited and sick to her stomach. The date is coming.
Off to the Gallatin Mall. The intent is to find something pretty. Janice of course is all abuzz with fashion and skin showing. Aliss is demurer. Finally, they settled on a nice green dress that came just below the knee with a cowl neck that almost shows cleavage. Cute black low-heeled sandals (Janice wanted her to wear 4-inch heels â?" no way). She gets her hair done and attempts and new makeup.
When Aliss gets home, she takes it all off and goes back to her simple mascara and lip stick only. Its comfortable for her, not one to overdo it despite the fashion of the time.
| Author Notes |
The story continues - we set up the meeting of an important couple.
** picture courtesy of L. Tonin.*** |
By EILEEN LAW
Chapter seven
Day one. Dressed in his best suit, he is dropped at the funeral home. Unprepared but knowing that his father will expect the best from him. He straightens his spine and walks in the front door. The smell. Its like cleaning solutions mixed with cheap air freshener. And there also seems to be a undertone of new wood. This all is like a layer of scent designed to mask another unfamiliar chemical smell. This smell feels like its coming from under his feet.
The reception area has basic matte carpeting and clean white walls. Tasteful paintings and prints hang on the walls all along a wide corridor with multiple wood doors in it. The main area has a leather sofa on the right wall with 2 armchairs across from it. Between the chairs is a graceful bureau. Along the wall to the right at the back of the room, is a large grandfather clock and to the left, slightly on angle is a dark wooden desk. Table lamps light the room with the assistance of a large, graceful crystal chandelier that hangs from the middle of the room. All of this lighting is set low to create a comfortable light.
The double doors to both the left and the right lead to large viewing rooms, know as parlor rooms. Currently they have sets of chairs and a podium at each end. Each room including the reception area have beautiful vases of flowers spread throughout them. Even further to the ends of each parlor room are smaller rooms connected by doors. These are known as the family rooms. A place for grieving families to respite while the parlors fill up with funeral visitors. At the end of the reception area behind another set of double doors, these ones white, is another hallway leading to the business end of the building. Here are office doors and one room set aside with empty caskets for people to make their end-of-life choices with. On almost every surface is a small box of tissue, at the ready for anyone who may need them.
He looks about, exploring all the rooms. Taking note of where everything is. He has been here a while and no one has come seeking him out. Mind you, he hasn't called out either. When he reaches the 2 double wide white doors they open suddenly with a whoosh. Standing inside the doorway is a young woman. She doesn't look like she belongs here. She has short cropped black hair with large round brown eyes. She is wearing too much eyeliner and heavy dark shadow. In her ears are large yellow flower earrings and, on her lips, dark burgundy lip stick. She wears jeans covered in patches and flowers. Every one of her fingers bears a large gaudy ring. CC was a bit of an odd character; she would lose track of a subject and make sudden changes mid-sentence and occasionally come up with odd factoids at unusual times.
She is chewing gum. She looks at him and says, "Hey I'm CC, you the kid I'm supposed to train?"
"Uhm Yes ma'am I believe so" He looks up at her. He thinks she is beautiful.
"K, you gotta follow me, man" She whips around and leads him into the business end of the building. "What are you doing in a suit? That's kinda weird for housekeeping. We got spare clothes here. Let's get you into a shirt and pants for clean up."
After changing they spent the day going over his duties. These included cleaning up, sweeping, vacuuming, garbage. Making sure all the tissue boxes were full or a replacement is nearby. All fliers, and informational packaging is tidy and available for all visitors. Straightening chairs, checking flowers to make sure they will remain fresh, filling water where needed. Cleaning the bathrooms properly and making sure all the supplies are full. Any loose paperwork or notes are to be placed on the desk in the reception area. All the time that he was being shown his duties, he kept quiet. When they walked into one of the parlors the begin to straighten the chairs into neat rows. It was then he noticed neither parlor had any caskets in them.
"CC?" he inquired.
"What's up?" she replied. She would walk between the chairs and occasionally would twirl like a dancer for no apparent reason.
"Uhm, where do they keep the bodies? I don't see any here." He was nervous to get the answer but also intensely curious.
"Well, there aren't any funerals until tomorrow, so the keep them downstairs until they need to put them into the viewing caskets." She replied matter of factly. She didn't think he was ready to see one yet, but she loved to push boundaries. "Wanna see one?"
"No!" he exclaimed. "If we are done, can I go home now?"
"You're not scared, are you? They can't do anything but just lay there. Let's go downstairs and I'll show you where they do all the stuff."
She grabs his little hand and starts to drag him towards the back stairs. He digs in his heels and pulls his hand out of hers.
"I'm sorry little man. I didn't mean anything by it. We can save that for another day." Said CC. She clicks her tongue and points at him mimicking a gun trigger.
"CC. How come you work here? And what do you do?" he inquired.
"It's the family business and my mom is one of the funeral directors. But it's my uncle's funeral home. He owns a bunch of them. I drive the van and pick up the bodies and put them downstairs. Then my cousin takes over and gets them ready for the funeral. It was creepy at first, but I'm used to it now and it doesn't bother me."
He wasn't sure how to answer that, so you just said, "wow cool."
"How come you got stuck here?" CC asked. "You should be hanging out with your friends or something and not working here. Aren't you a little young for all of this?"
"Your uncle and my dad are friends. My dad said I have to work here. He said it would build character or something like that. He said its 'cause he got his first job working with his dad at 9."
"Sometimes the bodies burp or shit themselves, that took getting used to." CC added.
He looks up at her, face ashen, shocked. What can you say to that? She was so different to anyone he had ever met in his life. She was free and could speak her mind in every and any way. He loved this about her. He even loved her quirky behaviours. Twirling around the rooms, never ending energy and sudden bursts of odd comments and irregular times. This was a freedom he could never express himself. He admired it.
"So, little man â?" get yourself back into your suit and I'll take the van and drive you home. You can even ride on a gurney if you want to. But I promise not to shove you into a body bag!" to this she snickered out loud at his shocked face. She winked and did her click, finger gun point to him again, smiling.
| Author Notes | A lot of research goes into my story. All the details are factual only the characters and story line is made up. |
By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Chapter Eight
His vehicle is full of supplies. In the trunk is rope, a potato sack, some duct tape, zap straps, some old clothes that are all packed into a garbage bag. He sits in his car, smiling. He checks the time, gets out and takes his notebook, a lunch bag, and his keys to the park bench. This part of the park is rarely used as it backs onto the trailer park where Buddy lives. Most people not liking to sit this close to 'those people.'
It's taken months for Buddy to trust him. Meeting him frequently at the park, just saying hello. Eventually it became a somewhat regular thing. They would have long conversations, most of which Joe hated but pretended to understand. Buddy was thinking that Joe was pretty cool for an old guy. He seemed to understand what it was like to be a confused teenage boy. Joe even once gave him a can of beer to drink with their sandwiches.
Today is different. Joe is ready to take things to the next level. Ready to show Buddy how the real-world works. Stupid kid. Fucking freak kid. Damn kid trying to tell him, he's a tranny. What the fuck. That is unnatural and he will show the kid the truth.
He sees Buddy in the park and walks up to him and invites him to share a snack with him. Buddy sits down on the bench next to Joe. The two of them start talking and Joe gives buddy a drink in a portable cup.
"Thanks, what's this?"
"Ah buddy that's a Monster drink, enjoy." Joe knows that Buddy's mom doesn't want him drinking energy drinks so this is a special treat. "When we are done, how about I take you for a ride and drop you at home later?"
"Where will we go?" Buddy asks taking a sip of his drink.
"I can take you to that clinic Bridercare that your mom won't take you to. That way you can ask all the questions that your mom won't let you ask. Maybe get some fliers or something."
"Oh, wow man, I ain't sure I'm ready for that. Is it private? I mean, like do I have to give my name and stuff?"
"Nope, I checked. You can walk in and just get the info that you need and just walk out. It's a free clinic." Joe can hardly hold his excitement. It looks like this is gonna work. Fucken kids gonna get exactly what he needs.
"Ah maybe next time". Buddy says nervously.
"C'mon Buddy. I won't tell anyone and I will even take the back roads so no one will see you." Joe pleads.
"Oh ok â?" fuck it. Lets go" Buddy downs the rest of his energy drink and follows Joe to his car.
"Joe, this energy drink is making me feel funny. I though it was supposed to hop me up but I feel kinda weird."
"It's your first one, just give it a couple of minutes and you'll be running circles around me."
They both get into Joe's car and soon after Buddy is asleep.
| Author Notes | Joe isn't really his friend. Bridercare is a real clinic. Most of my time is in research as was this chapter. Stay tuned for more! |
By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Chapter Nine
Lazily she clicks into her emails, checking out the events of the previous day. A few misdemeanors, a couple of transfers, the usual boring stuff. Whenever the Sargent wasn't around, she would look at the murder files, armed robberies, and missing persons. But lately she was sneaking a peek at all of the evidence that was being collected on missing persons. 3 so far and now they are saying there is a missing boy. 14 years old. She wonders if there is any connection. Probably not as there are no similarities between them that anyone can detect.
She is busy making her own notes practicing double duty. What do they know so far? Missing person # 1 Yvette A Turner, a middle-aged office manager last seen driving home from work. Missing since June of last year.
Missing person # 2 Young woman bartender Sandra Jean Jesperson, she disappeared in middle of a work shift last seen at work. Missing 9 months.
Missing person # 3 Olesia Strabynski a mother of 3, housewife grocery store charge on cc last evidence of location. Missing 4 months.
And now a teenage boy Buddy Stang - last seen when he left school at lunch.
No one seems to think these are connected but something in her gut tells her otherwise. The most unusual one is the boy. Three women and a boy, maybe he is just a runaway teenager and that's why he doesn't fit. Maybe. But again, her instincts are telling her to look a little harder. She decides to do a little investigating on her own. She heads over to the files and pulls out the first missing person file, Yvette Turner. Bringing it back to her desk she does a quick look to make sure no one was paying attention to her and that the Seargent isn't anywhere to be found.
She opens the file and grabs a notepad. Yvette Turner, 44. Husband, Frank Turner called in when his wife didn't come home after work. Her car, a 2010 Hyundai was later found at the end of Chester Lane, around 6 miles East outside of the town limits 1 week after she was reported missing. No other evidence was found at the scene. The car was towed to the impound lot and a thorough combing of the vehicle commenced. Nothing unusual appeared to be in or around the vehicle. No unknown prints were found on the vehicle. The keys were in the ignition and her purse was on the seat. Nothing missing. As if she just parked the car and walked away. An investigation of the scene was conducted and again nothing appeared unusual. There were tire tracks and impressions were made, however the tire tracks were a common tread and brand. Unlikely to find anything there. There was one farm far down the road from the entrance to the gravel road. An interview of the homeowners indicated that, other than seeing the abandoned car, they didn't see or know anything else. The brush and bushes were checked, and the mountain rangers did a complete combing of the surrounding forest. To this date no evidence of her whereabouts has been found.
There are notes from the interview with the farm owners, her fellow employees at the office, her husband, and her children. Although her children were adults and didn't live in the home with her husband.
Terry thought she would check out the area where the car was found, maybe re-interview the husband. Sometimes things come to your mind after the fact and she may be able to trigger some new leads. She looks at the photo of the woman. She sees nothing remarkable. Middle aged brunette with shoulder length hair. Brown eyes, glasses and in this photo, she is smiling. Beside her is assumed her husband. He is average height and build balding and slightly overweight. Terry takes out her cell phone and snaps a couple of photos of the contents of the file and carefully slips it back into the file cabinet. Now she has a start.
She waits until the end of her official shift and then climbs into her personal vehicle. She checks her notes and looks at the pictures in her phone. She will head out and re-interview the husband.
She pulls up to the double wide on private property. Knocks on the door and a woman answers. She has scraggly shoulder length hair and dark eyes with circles under them. She is wearing an oversized T-shirt and ripped jeans.
"Can I help you?" she says after taking a long drag on a half-smoked cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side.
"Hello, I am Detective Terry Smythe of the Bozeman Police department, is Frank Turner home?" she asks. She does a quick scan of what she can see of the inside of the trailer. It's dark with 70's wood paneling on the walls, garbage strewn over what she could see of the countertops. Evidence of drinking is also on the surface. The young woman at the door smelled of old alcohol. She surmised that this woman was probably an addict of some sort by the sunken cheeks and evidence of damaged teeth.
"Nah, he went to the liquor store. He should be back in about a half an hour. I'll tell him you were here."
Terry produces a card and tells her to have him call her on her cell. As Terry turns and starts to walk away a blue pickup truck comes into the gravel driveway, the owner cursing "Who parked in my spot!"
"Mr. Turner, I am detective Terry Smythe. Can you answer a couple of questions?"
"I already answered a bunch of questions before what new can I tell you?" He says squinting at the sunlight in his eyes.
"I understand Mr. Turner but this should only take a minute."
He trudges past her carrying a couple of cases of beer. He gestures to the woman at the door, passes her the beer. He points to the inside of the trailer and the woman disappears inside closing the door behind her.
"Ok then let's shoot. Waddaya wanna know?"
Terry is mentally taking note of the entire surroundings. It seemed that this used to be a well-kept trailer that had only recently seen harder times. Even the old blue pickup truck seemed to have more recent dents and bumps in it.
"Can you tell me about the last time you saw your wife?"
"What's to say. She got up for work as usual and left. Nothing new."
"Ok, I understand. How was her mood? Was she complacent or complaining about anything?"
"Nah, she usually complained about stupid things, but nothing seemed more than usual. She has this one co-worker that irritated her, but she didn't say anything in particular."
"Mr. Turner. No disrespect but what may seem like stupid things can sometimes lead to more important things. Can you tell me the name of the co-worker she had seemed to have problems with?"
"Uh yeah, it uhm some guy named Joe something or other. I'm not too sure but like a Russian or Polish name with a ski at the end. That's all I remember."
"Thank you, Mr. Turner. Now did your wife have a cell phone?"
"Yeah, but it was in the car, and it was taken by your office. But that was her work phone. Her personal cell phone is here. For some reason she forgot it that day."
"Mr. Turner, I am going to need that phone. Please go and get it for me." She waited for him to come back out of the trailer with the cell phone.
"Mr. Turner, who is the woman in your trailer?" She asks.
"Who? Her? She's no-one. Meaning, I met her after my wife disappeared. Long after."
His instance on not divulging more details was interesting and she decided to press it a little more.
"I just need her name for my records."
"Uh it's a Shannon...Shannon Beadle. B..E..A..D..L..E."
"Ok Mr. Turner, if anything else comes to mind, here is my card. Call anytime."
"Uhm Detective Smythe?" A look of intense pain crossed his face and made his blood shot eyes momentarily shine. "Do you think you will ever find her?"
"Mr. Turner, I can only promise you to do my best."
Terry left with the cell phone in her possession. Now she had something more to go on.
| Author Notes | Terry starts to uncover more that what the original detectives found. Or didn't find. |
By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
"Fucking natural order of life!!! Order!! Order!! Everything in its place and everyone in theirs!! Raaaarrrr!!!" Each word was slammed into the corpse.
Meat, that's all that was left of what was once the head of a 14-year-old teenager. Bits of blood, brains and bone were splattered all over the room that made the blue tarp practically useless.
He was filled with rage, pure uncontrollable rage that flowed through his veins and to every nerve ending he had. He was panting, sweating, and trembling in anger. In his hand a 5-lb sledgehammer, covered in more of Buddy's bits. All around him on the floor were various very sharp knives and buckets filled with fluid. Some buckets were empty, some were filled with chunks of flesh.
His brain was firing like lightning, and he was fighting with the urge to swing some more and the urge to stop. His hair and face were covered in splatter and his clothes looked more like a mop up rag than something to wear.
The naked corpse lay below him, unrecognizable if not for what was left of the shape of the body. The hands bludgeoned as tools for self-gratification. No human should be allowed to exist that skirts the boundaries of the natural order. Destruction was the only cure. The boy's genitalia were the only things unscathed. They were cut so cleanly it was as if they were surgically removed and then placed into a bucket. All the while the boy screamed out to the room. Luckily, he bled to death before a sledgehammer connected with his mutilated skull.
He swings a few more times, making mincemeat from the rest of the remains and then collapses on the floor in the middle of all the mess. Slipping on the wet remains as he went down. It took a few minutes for him to catch his breath. Nothing about this one was pleasurable. This one was for mother nature. He felt a little like her ambassador, making sure that these creatures didn't exist to fuck up the planet.
After resting for a while his vision clears and the anger starts to dissipate to the corners of his consciousness. He was exhausted but he still knew there was a mess to clean up. He shakily gets to his feet, walks over to the table. He pulls out a disposable bed pad and puts it on the floor. Here he strips naked. He puts the remains of his sweat suit in a plastic shopping bag and ties it shut, tight. He reaches into the backpack and pulls out 2 pairs of disposable booties. One he puts on immediately and the other he holds in his hands.
Off to the shower for a quick rinse. Gotta get rid of this mess. When he returns with fresh booties on, he tracks his way over to the cupboard to get out his supplies.
After a few minutes, he is suited up and ready to get to cleaning up. Only now his brain registers that the dark twisted music playing wasn't the usual 'Oh Sandy' that he usually listened to. He silenced the noise and switched to Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1.
Now calm, he sees the carnage and the mess. Tsking to himself and thinking 'I gotta get control on my temper sometime soon. Well, the job needed doing, but perhaps with a little less vigor.'
First, he puts the bucket with Buddy's genitals outside. Then he starts with wrapping the body and as many bits as he can collect inside the tarp. Double bagging and duct-taping. Because of the mess he made this bundle didn't resemble any human or tree for that matter. More like a ball of squishy flesh in a bag. Out to the wheelbarrow and down to the well. Whistle while you work, it helps the time pass.
He returns to finish cleaning up the room. Taking care to make sure that the ceiling and walls were clear of all debris. He takes a lid and places tightly on the bucket outside and along with the blood-soaked bag with the track suit inside he places it in his vehicle.
Taking note of his supplies he recognizes that he will have to order more. Each time he orders from a different place, sometimes making the drive to different cities to get all that he needs. Occasionally pilfering from his work. Delivering to different sites, addresses and mailboxes. All under aliases and some in business names. Can't be too careful. Next trip is going to be quite far so he reasons that he will have to book another 'business trip' to get materials from places he's never been to. A successful venture requires hard work, planning, and diligence.
But for today, all this extra work was taking more time than usual. Excuses would have to be made about the delays to the ones waiting for him.
| Author Notes | The fourth murder - this ones a little different |
By EILEEN LAW
She walks into the restaurant her legs shaking. 'Will he be here? Will he stand me up? How do I look? Is this really happening? How will I talk to him? What will I say? What does he want from me? I'm not beautiful or charming or anything. What is really going on?'
Then he sees her and stands up, slowly glides to her side at the hostess desk and takes her hand. He guides her silently back to the table. He slips her jacket off and pulls out her chair.
They both sit.
Looking across the table he says to her, "You look lovely tonight."
She slowly lifts her eyes to his, "uhm thank you my dress is new." She swallows the large lump in her throat and picks up the glass of water. Hastily drinking half down.
"Aliss, I told you before, nothing to fear here. I like you and want to get to know more about you. Now tell me, what do you like to do with your time?"
She looks at his unbearably handsome face, blushing. "I read a lot, watch movies, play with my cat. Sometimes I go out with Janice but not that often."
"I was wondering about your friend; you are two very different women. Its curious that you have a friendship with someone so different from you."
The waiter walks over to the table. "Do you need more time?"
"No, we will start with the crab cakes with the remoulade, I'll have the salmon and she will have the cobb salad." He ordered with confidence and without asking Aliss what she wanted. This was impressive and Aliss took notice.
"Now, where were we? Ah yes, you were going to tell me about your first boyfriend." He winked at her.
His teasing started to relax her a little bit. She avoided answering and instead talked about her work, a bit about her family and her interests in books, the types of movies she liked and of course, about her cat, Keanu.
He showed genuine interest in her conversation and started talking about his schooling, his friends and his interest in pursuing a career in medicine, particularly his dreams of being a coroner. Ideally for this police department. His interests in solving crimes with the evidence left on the bodies intrigued him.
Aliss was shocked at this idea and the look on her face showed it. However, to each their own.
The meals came and the evening went on. Although Aliss had to be prompted to ask and answer questions, his ease and confidence made her open up more and more. He began to see her sense of humor peeking out and enjoyed it very much.
At the end of the dinner, they walked out to their respective vehicles. At hers, she turned to look at him. Without a beat he captured her face and kissed her gently.
Holding her close he says, "Next Tuesday I will take you Ice skating, be ready at 6 pm. I'll call you before and get your address. This time I am picking you up."
"Ok" was all she had the nerve to say.
He bent over to kiss her again. His gentle kiss soon became more passionate. Aliss had little experience with passion and was scared and shocked at the same time. She started to pull away when he gentled himself again.
"Aliss, you need to let yourself free. Enjoy all that I have to offer. Remember, you are safe with me."
The two started dating more and more. Mark usually picking the places and events. Aliss, not one to go against the grain, agreed and found herself enjoying her time with him. Eventually Mark was able to spend the night with Aliss and he discovered her virginity. After taking this, he found that she was slowly opening up all the sides of her personality. She wasn't always the prim and proper girl. She had a bit of a wild side that she kept in the sheets and off the streets. Soon enough Aliss was in love.
By EILEEN LAW
The last 2 years were good for Mark in that he developed in his puberty. He went from looking like a boy to looking like a young man. He had soft hairs growing all over his body, and he was even starting to shave. His muscles also filled in and he had a slim but nice shape to his body.
He grew very quickly, to the point that his legs and arms would ache with the rapid expansion and growth, although going from 5'2 to 5'10 in such a short period of time can cause growing pains that are quite extreme, he tolerated this pain well.
This growth and change also had its benefits. Mark was getting more handsome by the day and the girls took notice. He had a few fumbling kisses with girls in bathrooms at the school and was occasionally sneaking into closets and empty classrooms for quick grabs of some young girls budding breasts. Mark felt like this was more experimental than emotional.
The funeral home offered him more and more responsibilities and he now sported his own keys. Most of the time these days he did the work on his own. The routine was ingrained and he was able to listen to his Walkman while he worked. His father made sure that Mark kept up his grades and Mark was able to change tennis into track. Mark was quick and made the school team easily. He was always first and soon was offered to join a national team. His father denied this request stating that his boy had others things to focus on, but his didn't stop Mark from training and keeping himself in his best physical condition.
One Saturday he was at his job at the funeral home listening to music. He would sometimes listen to Pink Floyd, Supertramp or Fleetwood Mac but he also enjoyed the classics depending on his mood. This Saturday's selection was Pink Floyd. He was walking between the isles of the family area, straightening out chairs and picking up bits on the floor. He was so focused that he didn't hear CC enter the room.
A tap on the shoulder made him do a quick turn around while taking his headphones off.
"Hey kid, howzit goin?"
"Uhm yeah great, just listening to Floyd, ya know?"
"Yup �¢?" hey wanna learn some new stuff? Like maybe coming to get some clients with me? Clients meaning corpses of course."
CC was still unusual and quirky and Mark still found her beautiful. The opportunity to spend more time with her was tempting to him, but his sense of responsibility was forefront in his mind.
"Probably shouldn't. I have to finish up here and then get home to study �¢?" I have a final in science on Monday."
"Hey kid, it's ok. I cleared it with my uncle. I'll help you finish up and we can go to The Gallatin County Medical Examiners office. They got some car accident dude that's ready for his box here." CC winked at him and jingled her keys. A few minutes later they were in the company van and headed out.
"Hey CC, why don't we use the hearse when we do this?" He inquired.
"Cause we only use those for actual funerals ya know, to move them in the casket to the graveside. The van is so people don't know what we are doing, its more private that way. See sometimes we get bodies from murders and stuff and they don't want the press to know when the bodies are grabbed and moved."
They arrived at the coroner's office around the back of the building. CC handed over the necessary paperwork, unloaded a stretcher with the body pouch on it and pushed it inside the building. Just inside the wide corridor both CC and Mark were instructed to wait. A few minutes later the stretcher was returned with the body pouch now full and strapped down to the gurney.
A 40 something year old man with a rather large belly and official coroner's office security uniform looked at CC with obvious adoration on his face. "Hey, CC how's everything?" he asked.
"It's all cool. Here is my new body buddy �¢?" his name is Mark. He's worked with me now for a couple of years. Today is his first day doing pick-ups." CC was oblivious to the man's crush and continued on, business as usual. She signed the paperwork, took her copies and started pushing the gurney towards the exit.
"Ok CC, next time get the kid some I.D. or I'll have to let your uncle know your skipping steps again." He said in a teasing manner.
"You got it, see you next week sometime!" CC started whistling and almost skipping along, while pushing the gurney out to the Van.
"Hey kid, open the back up for me."
Mark did as he was told and was quick to help load the cart. His strength and agility gave him the ability to handle the equipment quickly and the job was done faster than usual. Cc took note of his physique for the first time.
Once completed they were headed back to the funeral home.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" CC broke a long silence and asked without any preamble.
"Ah no" Mark was taken aback by the question but also reasoned that CC was abrupt that way so he took no offence.
"So have you kissed a girl before?"
"Yeah, a couple, why do you want to know?" Mark was almost ready to shut down this conversation. He didn't like things asked of him that were too personal. His father taught him that.
"Just curious, you're getting quite cute and I can see you're going to be a hot guy." CC replied. She stopped the van at the back entrance of the home and turned in her seat to look more closely at Mark. After a few seconds Mark went to open the vehicle door.
"Hold on a sec." CC said while spinning in her seat to look directly at Mark. Suddenly, quick as a flash a 26 year old CC had a lip lock on him. It lasted only a second, barely more than a peck and Mark was shocked at the response his body had to her advances. He should be pushing her away, stopping this but for some unknown reason to him. He didn't. Maybe this was why he didn't respond to the girls at his school, maybe he needed someone with more experience, maybe.
Neither one of them took notice or even cared that there was a body on a gurney just behind them. Mark looked into CC's coal covered dark brown eyes. He then took a chance and kissed her again, fumbling with how but tried his best.
CC pulls away and says, "you have to kiss with your mouth open, like you're about to take a bite out of a peach. Then gently take that bite. You'll get it."
He tried again, better. His pants suddenly starting feeling tight.
"Enough for today, little man." CC did her pull the trigger and clicking sound as she pointed at him. Both got out of the Van and unloaded the gurney.
It seems Mark was in for some training he wasn't expecting that day.
| Author Notes | Mark is growing up. Maybe too fast. |
By EILEEN LAW
Terry, in her grey sedan is driving along Chester Lane towards the place where Yvette Turner's Hyundai was found, east of town. The dirt road winds around a few corners while climbing up a mountain. There are fields to both sides that can be seen between the trees. The road winds sharply for around 3 miles and there is a pull over to the right nestled in thick brush and trees. The road continues on until it reaches a U-turn cul-de-sac. The car was found at the pull out. Terry puts the sedan in park and gets out. Scanning the area, she notes that it is somewhat difficult to see any vehicle that would be closer to the trees when looking from the road.
She walks around the brush taking note of the sight lines and that the road seems very unused. There are no homes, barns or other structures around. She turns and starts looking through the trees and shrubs and nothing sticks out as unusual or out of place. That is until she sees under a bush the slightest tinge of blue. She bends over and lifts the bottom branches of the shrub and there she sees a crumpled blue surgical glove. This is something that seems out of place here. She goes back to her vehicle to get an evidence bag and a pair of large tweezers. She puts the glove in the bag. After spending some more time in the area she also notices that her cell phone reception flickered between no service and one bar. She uses this phone and takes pictures of the area where she found the glove, and more pictures of the surrounding area and the few tire tracks that are found in the dust and dirt around the pull out.
On her way back into town she stopped at the office that Yvette was working at the day she went missing. She pulls up to J.D. Consulting and walks inside. A pretty red haired receptionist in her twenties looks up from her desk and smiles at Terry.
"Can I help you?" A saccharine smile meets her.
"Yes, I am Detective Smythe, can I talk to your manager?"
"Yes, can I ask what this is regarding?" Her tone was sugar coated and seem obviously put on.
Terry realized she would probably have to handle the receptionist with a sterner hand as she was not recognizing her authority as strongly if Terry had been a man instead of a rather petite woman.
"I am a police officer on official business and no you can't ask what it is about. Just page or intercom that person and get them down here. Thank you."
Soon enough the call was made and within a minute a 50 something year old man with graying hair and a tight suit was standing in the reception area.
"Hello detective, I am Joe Strabynski the manager here. How can I help you?"
"Mr. Strabynski can we please go somewhere, where we can talk privately?" Terry said, noticing the receptionist paying too much attention to the activities in front of her.
"Certainly, please follow me to my office."
They walk down a hallway to a large office with a desk that had 2 brown leather chairs in front of it. The desk is covered in files and papers that Joe quickly makes into a haphazard pile to the side. A computer screen is off to the left that he quickly turns off to make the screen black.
"Please detective, take a seat." He motions to the 2 empty chairs.
Terry takes out her notepad while she seats herself.
"Mr. Strabynski, I am here doing a follow up on the disappearance of Yvette Turner from last summer. I understand she was the manager here at that time. Is that correct?"
Joe appears a little surprised and quickly clears his throat. "Hmm, Yes, that is correct. I already told the other officers all I know."
"I understand that, but as the case is still open, we will continuously be following up until she is found. Can you please tell me if you were here on the day that Mrs. Turner disappeared?"
"Yes, I was. It was a normal day at work and at the end of the day, as usual, Yvette said her good-byes and left. There isn't much else to say."
"Mr. Strabynski, I understand that you took over her position here after a short period of time, is that correct?" Terry was taking note of Joe's responses to her questions and his red flush to his cheeks at that question didn't go unnoticed.
"I did, I am more than qualified, I have been here even longer than she had. I deserved this promotion." His voice raised slightly and his tone was one of indignation and seemed as if he was trying to prove himself to the detective.
"I am sure you did. Who else was working here at the time that she left work?"
"I think Jaz, our logistics coordinator and our old receptionist, Janine. Everyone else was gone for the day."
Terry found the interview very helpful. It seemed Joe was hiding something.
"Thank you for your time. Here is my card. If you think of anything else, let me know." Terry turned to leave. With a backwards wave of her hand, "I can let myself out, thank you."
As Terry walks down the hall, a larger woman with brown hair in her 30's stops Terry in the hall, "Excuse me Detective can I talk to you for a moment?" She motions Terry to follow her into another smaller office in the building and shuts the door.
Speaking with a low voice she says, "The day that Yvette went missing, her and Joe really got into it."
"What do you mean, miss?"
"Nancy, Nancy Coleman. Joe and Yvette didn't get along well. He always thought he should have gotten the promotion to manager long before she did. And anytime he could, he would make things hard for her. In fact, I am sure that at least once or twice he purposefully messed up her ledgers so it looked like she made mistakes that I am sure she didn't. Yvette was an awesome lady but she didn't put up with Joe's crap. After Joe got her job, temporary position I was told, he started making changes around here."
"I see, what kind of changes?" Terry noted that Nancy had an air of truth to what she was saying.
"Well, first he fired Yvettes niece right quick. She was the receptionist here when Yvette was here, and he put that flake up there. I am sure there is something going on with them as well. And the day that Yvette left, she and Joe got into a huge fight. She even told Joe that she was going to tell the owner that Joe had to go. We all heard them yelling all the way from her office. Something about missing files from her office, and some email that he had sent to her clients. It wasn't perfectly clear but there was definitely something pissing her off."
"Nancy, was there anyone else here that heard the fight besides yourself?"
"Yeah sure, Stefanie, she was at her desk out front and we heard the whole thing. I am sure the only reason I haven't been turfed yet is I told Joe I didn't know what he was talking about when he asked me if I heard anything. Otherwise, I am sure I wouldn't be here today." She was obviously flustered as she concluded her story.
"Nancy, do you have any contact information for Stephanie?"
"Sure, I'll send you an email later or call you but for now its best that you leave so he wont figure out that I have been talking to you."
She took Terry's card and escorted the detective to the lobby. Terry left and headed back to the precinct. Now she really had some leads on this case.
| Author Notes | Most of the details in the story are accurate. Scenery, business names etc. Come along on the journey. |
By EILEEN LAW
Big news. Its 2006 and the BTK killer was all over the media. Seems he was quiet for a while and now because of his arrogance, he has been caught. Bind, Torture, Kill. This story fascinated him. How this guy got away with it for almost 4 decades. 10 confirmed killings but who really knows. Killers don't tend to 'slow down' and stop. They can't help themselves once they have got a taste for it. So, the 'quiet' times he must have more victims, but they just can't help it.
Fascinated with serial killers, their methodology and for some of their insanity he read, re-read and researched all he could find on them. He would read crime thrillers and watch whatever documentary he could find on them. Research is the key to gathering enough information to get away with murder.
He thought carefully about how to get his first victim. The where and how, the alibi he had must be tight as can be. Forming habits so people could guess where he would be and then show up at those places. He was frequently at the library. He found a back door and jimmied it open slightly so he could come and go. He practiced. Sometimes for a few minutes and sometimes for an hour or more. Making sure to say both hello and goodbye to the pretty librarian who sat behind the counter.
Weeks ago, he went out of state to several different stores to get his supplies. Women's stockings, tape, zap ties, rope, multiple heavy duty garbage bags. He staked out the best place to dispose of the bags when full. Found a gap in the gate to the local dump. He knew he could get in there at night, and no one would see him. He stashed a shovel just inside the opening and made sure it was still there over several weeks. Spare clean clothes were stashed in a garbage bag close to where the shovel was. It lay there looking like more garbage. He figured out the best victim would be a college age girl. He followed one on her regular routine for a few weeks. Knew where she worked after school, how she got home and what route she took. Some nights she would meet with friends' others she would walk home. He made sure to sit at the park along her walk, casually reading a book under the lights in a rarely travelled part of the park. He would wave and smile as she passed. Soon she would wave back and continue on her way. He is now familiar and there is an unfounded trust between them.
His heart is pounding in his chest, his legs trembling a little with anticipation. His car is parked with all he needs at the ready. He walks into the library, as usual, and smiles at the librarian. He walks to the back area and sits at his cubicle table. Unless you purposefully look, you would almost be unseen while reading there. Puts on the light and opens his book. He waits a few minutes and makes his way to the back of the library, past the older almost never checked out books and slips out the back door. He quickly gets to his vehicle and starts the engine. Within a few minutes he is at the bench in the park.
Sweat is filling his underarms, and he is deliciously scared to undertake this mission but doggedly determined to do it. There she is as usual trudging along the path towards her home. He looks about to make sure no one is in eyesight or earshot of his interlude.
"Marvelous night for a walk, isn't it?" He asks her.
She is somewhat startled and slightly skips a step but says, "yes, it is. I've seen you here before a few times. What takes you out here?" Her pretty blue eyes sparkle in his direction, after all he is a handsome young man.
"I like the quiet." He says smiling back at her. "It's not safe for you to walk through this park alone at night."
"I'm almost home now, just a block or two, I'll be fine." Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail at the back of her neck and is swaying while she walks.
He gets up to walk beside her. She turns to look at him, skeptical. "Uhm what's going on?"
"You dropped your scarf" he says deftly pulling one out of his pocket. One that she had dropped a couple weeks prior.
"Oh, there it is. I thought I lost that one for good." She pauses in her steps to take it from him.
"Here" He says, "Let me help you."
He gently wraps the scarf around her neck. He had just soaked it with chloroform and was careful to make sure that the part saturated was over her mouth.
Suddenly his body fills with adrenaline and with lightning speed he twists the scarf and turns his body, so he is behind her. He whispers in her ear, "It's ok Sandra. Calm down. Come nicely with me and everything will be ok."
She is grasping at the scarf around her neck terror in her eyes. No breath to scream, slowly no strength left to try. She feels the night and darkness closing in around her and her legs getting weak. He guides her in the direction he wants to walk. Now trying to make their walk look like drunken lovers out for a moonlight stroll. Soon enough, he has her near his car. He guides her almost unconscious body into the back seat. Here he has ropes, and he quickly ties her up. He keeps the scarf close to her nose and mouth just close enough to keep her down and subdued but not enough to render her unconscious. He covers her with an old quilt and scatters garbage on top. Making the car look unkempt. If anyone saw it, they would think its just a messy car.
He is shaking, electrified and thrilled, he did it! He has her. Now to go closer to the dump. He must be quick, before he is noticed to not be at the library.
| Author Notes | More from our killer - the first attempt. |
By EILEEN LAW
Saturday May 12, 1990. 2pm. That's the date and time they chose. A simple but elegant wedding. Mark had found the venue, The Kimpton Hotel. Mark chose the black and white theme of the wedding saying it had a class to it. Aliss wanted more color and after some discussion he did allow Aliss a sprinkling of her favourite soft yellow on her maid of honors dress, for Janice. The flowers had subtle yellow blossoms with white roses.
Aliss had to have conversations with her friends who argued that black dresses in a wedding was depressing but Aliss convinced them of the simple class of the theme. The wedding was quiet, subdued, and beautiful. Aliss was overwhelmed with love for her handsome husband and wanted to please him at every turn.
The honeymoon was in St Martinique. They enjoyed sailing on a catamaran, snorkeling and days on the beach.
While they were away news came of a shooting at Montana State University that rocked the city. Generally, a peaceful city, this event changed the face of TV and newspapers for weeks to come. The ensuing car chase ended in a circle K service station with the perpetrator's vehicle crashed against a gas pump. Mark was distracted by the story and his interest in gathering information about it interfered with some of their sightseeing plans. When Aliss broached the subject of missing plans, Mark told her to go without him. But Aliss, again wanting to please Mark, chose instead to stay in the hotel with him.
The rest of the honeymoon went according to a carefully created schedule. Soon enough, they were back in Bozeman at Aliss's apartment. They had planned to return to her suite and then start looking into purchasing a home together.
With excitement and anticipation, Aliss started perusing homes with her husband. Mark, a newly licensed physician, wanted a home with a sizeable office, courtyards for tennis or at least the land to build one in the future, and a minimum of 6 bedrooms. His plan for 4 children was agreed to by Aliss as well.
The neighbourhood had to be right, the school district must be the best, and it had to be close to the Bozeman Deaconess Hospital for Mark to get to work. His plan, eventually, was to open a private practice but for the next few years he would work in emergency medicine at the hospital. Aliss's only request was a swing in the yard for her children.
Soon enough a house was purchased, and they moved in. Mark immediately started renovations and had his tennis courts added outside and a gym was created out of a portion of the basement. The rest of the basement included at large bathroom, sauna, wine cellar and storage. All these rooms had locks on the doors.
Mark was always encouraging Aliss to expand her wardrobe and select more from the finest clothing they could find. He would frequently choose the colors and styles, saying that they complimented her figure better, and sometimes told her that longer fabrics slimmed her. Aliss wasn't one who liked spending too much money on herself and frequently was uncomfortable paying for these expensive items. Mark scheduled regular salon appointments and even had hired a personal trainer for her, who would come to the house to train Aliss. She didn't really like it but what's the use of a gym in the house if you don't use it, after all.
They had a professional housekeeper come in. Aliss never seemed to keep it tidy enough or clean enough for Mark. He had a way of admonishing her that didn't quite border on abuse, and he always ended his 'conversations' with. "Only the best, my love."
After 2 years of marriage, Mark finally agreed to have their first child. It didn't take long for Aliss to get pregnant. It was at this time that Mark started to show his controlling nature to a more extreme extent.
As a physician, he had easy access to all of Aliss's medical records, he chose the gynecologist, the pediatrician, and the room at the hospital for the birth of the baby. During the pregnancy he hired a dietician to create the perfect meal plans for Aliss. He had her exercise routine changed in ways to prevent any potential risks. Soon enough, the nursery needed renovations. Mark spared no expense and before Aliss was even 4 months pregnant hired a nanny to help with the baby. Aliss disagreed with the need for a nanny, but Mark insisted. He quoted, "only the best, my love."
As the pregnancy progressed Mark encouraged Aliss to take a leave from work. This leave was to be open-ended in case she decided not to return to work at all. Mark had a good income, and they didn't need her to work at all. Aliss knew some of Mark's childhood and although he wasn't too bothered by it, she wanted hers to be different, hers to be a home with love and caring. She wanted to stay home and raise her children. Surprisingly, Mark agreed.
Early one Sunday morning, Aliss woke to a wet bed.
| Author Notes | We build more history on this intriguing couple |
By EILEEN LAW
She sits in front of Seargent Hayes, under the desk she is clenching her feet inside of her shoes. The only way she can release the strong feelings she is experiencing, while he goes on and on about how she 'messed up his files'. She keeps all emotion off her face and gives the appearance of complete attention while in her brain she is fuming with anger at the man who treats women like they are less. Less, hmm exactly what these files are. Less impressive, less investigative, and less complete. She has successfully drowned him out while inside her inner voice is going over the information, she was able to glean from the incomplete files.
"And furthermore, if I ask you to call down to evidence to make sure everything is entered and correctly tagged. I expect you to make a note in that file, saying that you did exactly that. When I ask you to double check files, I do not want the order of the paperwork inside those files to be messed with. You may think you are 'organizing' things, but you are fucking up my very careful way of putting them in there. It helps me to recall my order, the way I got them. Stop 'fixing' everything and just do what is asked of you. When, and if I have detective work for you, I expect you to be the ride along. You are not the lead. You have no real experience and I expect you to learn from whomever I send you with. Am I making myself clear?" His face was almost purple. It made her smile inside.
"Anderson missed a bunch of obvious evidence at the Howards farm. I only grabbed what he missed. I asked the scene photographer to make sure that those items had pictures that were also taken. We would not have had all that we would need to close that case if I hadn't." Terry calmly replied.
"Anderson was going to get those; you didn't give him the opportunity to complete the job at hand. You need to learn to step back and let the experienced detectives do their job. You watch and learn. That's it." A fresh new vein was showing itself across his forehead.
It was obvious to Terry that these men were going to cover for each other. Anderson was sloppy, inattentive and was not even close to getting all the evidence that was there at the crime scene. Everyone was wrapping up when Terry noticed the shells under the brush 10 feet from the scene. Anderson thanked her at the time, but it seemed like a different story was being told to the Sergeant. What happened to accountability and professionalism? Crimes were being committed with no easily determined suspects due to the sloppy investigative work done by some at this precinct. If she hadn't found those shell casings there would not have been any ballistics to connect the murder weapon to the perp.
Terry made a mental note to keep her own records until it was necessary to share the additional evidence that she would gather. Getting the perp was more important than office politics.
For missing person # 2, Sandra Jean Jesperson, Terry was going to have to be more undercover than before. She planned on hitting the Rocking R Bar later in the evening so she can gather more intel on her co-workers.
At the end of the day Terry overheard the Sargeant talking to a beat cop.
"She had better concentrate more on her make up and less on crime scene work. If it came down to a crunch, could she actually chase down a perp? What if she was needed out there? Can you count on her to protect anyone? She needs to keep it on her desk or take notes at a crime scene and let the real police work be done by the men around here."
Terry knew he was an incompetent controlling bastard, but now she really knew what was going on. Should she seek out the captain or try to figure this out on her own. She had always taken care of herself in the past and she would do so again. Good police work is always the best evidence of a competent detective. She would continue her current path until she had to deliver the case evidence.
Later that evening, Terry actually did what she overheard him say. She put on some make up and headed out to the Rocking R Bar. She was going to flex her detective skills and poke around for some information from the patrons and other staff at the bar. Terry's wardrobe and make up were limited as she rarely had occasion to use them and dress up, preferring the function of clothing over fashion. But she did, on rare occasions, have a need for more casual dress.
Tonight, she is wearing a deep red blouse with just enough of a Vee to offer a hint of cleavage, snug denim jeans and cowboy boots. She curled her hair and wore matching red lipstick. She was almost unrecognizable. But she was still Terry, so she had a small Kimbo Micro 9 in her ankle holster. You never know.
She walked into the bar and took a seat in front of the bartender, a pretty blonde.
"whatcha drinkin sweetie?" The blonde asked.
"Long Island iced tea, tall glass and only a little ice" She responded.
"Single or double in that tea?"
"Single, I have got to drive home later, thanks."
The bar wasn't overly full, and the country music wasn't so loud that conversation couldn't be heard. Soon enough the bartender wasn't tied up making drinks and Terry waved her over.
"How long have you worked here?" Terry asks her.
"About 3 years now, I guess. Why?"
"I had a distant cousin who used to work here, and she disappeared a while a
go. I was wondering if you knew her?" Terry tried to keep it light and noncommittal.
"What cousin is that?" asks the bartender.
"Sandra Jesperson." Terry replies and then adds, "Sorry, I'm Terry, what's your name?"
"My name is Marlene. Most of my friends call me Mars. I don't think I've seen you in here before." She looks at Terry quizzically, almost suspiciously.
"You're right. I just came by looking for some information about my cousin. Were you working the night she disappeared?"
"I was. She never mentioned any cousin to any of us here, that I know of."
"Well Sandy wasn't always proud of this side of the family. But we loved her despite the distance between us." Terry thought quickly.
"Ah I see." Mars was trusting more. "It was around 11:30 or so. She said she was going to the bathroom. She took her purse 'cause you know, lady time. And she never came back. The boss asked me to check on her and I went into the bathroom, but she wasn't in any stall. I called for her but, nothing. So, I just figured she left early and didn't tell anyone. It wasn't until my next shift that I even knew she was missing."
"Did she leave anything behind?" Terry was examining Mars closely for any signs of deception and saw none.
"Uhm, just her sweater. But she did that a lot." Mars offered.
"Oh, any way I can have her sweater?" Terry asked while thinking that her department had a bad habit of not gathering evidence that seemed rudimentary to her.
"I don't know if I should. I don't want any flack from anyone."
"Please, it's all I would have left of my cousin." Terry gave her a look that she hoped looked both sad and desperate.
"Uhm, yeah, ok just give a minute to fix these guys their drinks and I'll go in back and get it for you." Mars replied.
Soon enough, an attractive, man sat beside Terry and gave her the once over with his eyes.
"I haven't seen you in here before, this your first time in here?" He asked her.
Terry, not wanting to lose her 'character' replied. "Yes, it is, do you come here often?" She gave him a quick glance; it was enough for her to size him up.
"All the time. I'm a regular here."
At this time Mars returned with a blue cardigan sweater and passed it over the bar to Terry while at the same time saying to the new patron, "Hey Joe, are you bothering this lady?"
"Hey Mars, nah, never I'm just admiring the scenery." He turned and winked at Terry who pretended not to notice.
"So, you must have known Sandra then." Terry asked him, taking advantage of the situation.
"Sure, everyone new Sandra. She was a great waitress and friendly to everyone. Why, did you know her?"
"She is my cousin on my dad's side." Terry noticed his face took a slight red tinge and what looked like a hint of guilt quickly ran across his face.
He looked at his beer and then smiled when he turned to look at her. "I guess all the pretty girls in this bar must be related then."
"Wow, thank you. You didn't even skip a beat delivering that line. You must be a pro." Terry said teasingly.
"Ah well, you caught me. I don't mean any harm." Guilt again flitted across his features.
"If you are a regular, were you here the night my cousin went missing?" Terry asked, now paying close attention to his inflections.
"Yea, I was, but I left before she did. Isn't that right Mars?" He seemed to be reaching, grasping for someone to back him up.
Mars was pouring a beer for a customer and didn't hear the question. She came back to the end of the bar with a quizzical look on her face.
"I was just telling this pretty lady here that I left early the night that Sandra went missing. You remember, don't you?" He asked.
"Yea, Joe, that's right. A bit unusual for you. Most days you're here until we turn the lights up." Mars was teasing and she offered a light punch to his left shoulder.
Terry turned towards Joe, offering a pretty smile and asked, "Joe, is it? Joe....?" Her leading question asking for a last name.
He responded to her look of flirtation and offered, "Joe Garrison. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Can I buy your next drink......?" He was fishing for her name.
She smiles at him and says, "Terry, Terry Smith." She offered a version of her name. "Listen, Joe. I enjoyed our little conversation, but I must get going. Can I get your number?" She lightly tilts her head at him.
Joe thought he was so lucky to get this girls' attention and he doesn't hesitate to offer up his phone number. She enters it into her cell and says to him, "Joe it's been a pleasure, I'll give you a call sometime soon, ok?"
Terry waves at Mars again, to pay her tab but Joe wasn't having anything of that. "It's on me, sweetie. You make sure you call me, ok? I'll be waiting."
Oh, she would be calling him. She had a lot of questions to ask him, and more to ask of Mars too. For now she was anxious to get out of the bar and take a closer look at Sandra's sweater..
| Author Notes | Terry is gathering more evidence and more persons of interest. |
By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
He has his treasure in the back seat. Somewhere in his mind a switch goes off. His clever and charming self is pushed aside to welcome in the other one. The one who has wanted this feeding for so very long.
She is mumbling under the blanket and seems to be waking up a little more as time goes on. He must not have put enough chloroform on the scarf. Figures, what do you expect from Walmart? Not high quality. He pulls into an alley, jumps out and opens the back door. He then quickly pulls off the blanket and garbage, takes off his winter gloves, exposing the blue of the surgical gloves underneath. He tosses the gloves over to the front seat and climbs inside, sitting on the bound girl he has named, Sandra.
She looks terrified. Her eyes are wide, and she is moaning. Her moans remind him of the female orgasm. She is getting louder. He puts his hand on her mouth. "Shh, sweet Sandra, Shh." The feeling of control, of absolute power is surging through him. The adrenaline and dopamine's are coursing through his veins and slamming into the pleasure centres of his brain. She starts to struggle so he quickly wraps his strong hands around her throat. He leans into her face and whispers in her ear.
"It's alright, just let it happen. You will love the rush." His mind is telling him that she likes what he is doing. The more she struggles the more he feels the proof of it. Her red terrified eyes are dripping hot tears pouring down her cheeks. Then they start to dim. Her kicking and thrashing are slowing down. As he watches her lose consciousness he knows if he doesn't let go soon, she will die. He thinks it may be better if she is still alive for the next part of his plan.
He puts a blue tarp on the pavement and puts her body on that tarp. He pulls up her shirt and exposes her smooth clean skin. His excitement is increasing as he pulls out the last of his supplies.
He then leans over her to strangle her some more. Now he can watch as life slowly slips from her. He looks at her adoringly, tilting his head to the side while he watches her life leave her. The moment she is gone, he grabs the large knife and starts to caress her with it. He begins with her face, careful not to cut her skin. He thinks her final look of softened terror, desperation and that slackened look of death is beautiful. Terrifically beautiful. He is filled with emotion looking at her, could it be love?
Then he moves down and sideways so he can look at her abdomen. He takes the knife and presses it into her stomach. Pulling across her body. Surprisingly not as much blood as he was expecting, but then again without a heartbeat only the pressure in the veins would release any blood.
He puts down the knife and explores the gash in her belly. The glistening intestines slip out of her and onto his hand. The glorious wet warmth of them intrigue him and he runs his fingers through them some more. Curious he pulls further apart the gash to look inside. Everything is red and wet and somehow looks alive.
He then feels a twitch and increase in pressure in his pants. Not truly understanding what is happening he pushes this thought aside. He knows he has only a few more minutes so he needs to stop what he is doing so he can pack everything up. He stands, looks down at her and lovingly says. "Sandy, my love, I shall miss you so."
He wraps the body in the tarp and then gets it all inside the garbage bags, duct taping them shut. He puts this package in the back seat and looks around to make sure he has not left anything behind. He pulls off the blue gloves covered in her blood and disposes of them inside a plastic shopping bag and drops it on the floor. Satisfied, he gets in the driver's seat and heads to the dump. When he gets there, he drags the package in through the fence and proceeds to dig a hole for it. Digging in a dump is harder than it looks, many bits are bigger and harder to move than common dirt is. It took some effort but eventually he was able to 'hide' it well. He gets back into his car.
He sits there for a moment. He has not been able to get rid of that twitch in his pants. He looks over to the small mound where Sandra is and takes his cock out. He tugs on himself while thinking about the feel of her organs in his hand. Its takes only a few pulls and his release is granted. It was intense and shook him to his very core. So, this is what a real orgasm feels like. His brain in full and he is high from all the events of the evening.
No time to spare! Quickly, he drives back to the library and slips in the back door, quietly working his way back into his seat. He takes a moment and looks at his watch and discovers he made it with 10 minutes until the library closes. He takes this time to think about what he had just accomplished. Trying to slow his heart, bring down the adrenaline and fix a 'normal' look on his face, he then packs up and walks towards the librarian.
"Hey Jess, you look lovely tonight." He smiles brightly at her.
She slightly blushes and looks at him. "Thanks, did you get a lot of studying in?"
"Jess, I think you and I should go out on a date. Dinner, on me. Tomorrow. I won't take no for an answer." He leans across the counter and plants a quick kiss to her cheek.
Damn he was feeling great.
| Author Notes | His first try - not so bad is it? |
By EILEEN LAW
Marks heart is pounding out of his chest. His brain is firing on all cylinders, and he is tingling all over. Can toes actually curl? Sure, feels like it. What an explosion!
CC leans back, panting into the room, his penis is still buried deep inside her. He reaches up to her putting his palms on her breasts. He doesn't want this over. He can feel himself building up and soon enough he will be hard again.
She feels him growing and looks down at him winking, "Your kickstand is kicking me again. You got energy, don't you?"
He is 15, what do you expect? He grins up at her smiling. All they want is action and more action. Spread the seed.
CC leans over and his cock slips out of her. She raises her leg and twists to plop onto the floor beside the table. Mark, in a half-sitting position looks at her, with a soft adoration.
"Hey kid, don't go there. This is just for fun." When she saw his face slightly crumble, she added, "I do like you, but let's just keep it at that." She turned to grab her clothes and then looks back at him to say, "Sometimes I look at the bodies, the younger guys with rigor and wonder what it would be like to ride one of them. Not that I'd do it, I just wonder."
--------------------
Earlier in the day, CC had prepared for this. She had planned it all out. She made him work for it though, building it up.
This wasn't the first time. She had a knack for it. She would tease him by randomly coming up to him, lick his neck and rub his cock through his jeans and then, walk away, leaving him frustrated. On occasion he would try to touch her, but she would withdraw and tell him no. She often made him work shifts alone and made him promise not to tell anyone. If he kept quiet, she would reward him with a deep kiss and heavy fondling.
Once, in the embalming room, Mark came down to see her and was standing in the doorway. She was moving a body she had just picked up from the transport gurney to the cold storage drawer when she saw him.
She turned a looked at him and said, "someday I'm gonna suck that cock of yours. When? Who knows, but kiddo you need some." She followed that up with her trigger finger and thumb, making a 'click' sound and then wink and just as abruptly turned back to the task at hand. Marks face filled up with blood and so did another part of him.
She seemed to like this room. Come to think of it, most of her sexual advances were in this room, fitting that their first time was also in here.
For Mark, this was exciting and exactly what almost any teen boy would fantasize about. A gorgeous older woman, one who takes the lead. This was a secret world that he carefully kept hidden from his controlling parents. This secret offered him a semblance of control over his own life. Not that his parents would notice so much as all they were doing was just tracking his activities and time. He did report to them about the things he learned, wanting to protect CC as much as possible while doing it, but never did he reveal any type of relationship except a working one. He told his parents that he mostly worked on his own, with CC checking in on him occasionally. He was careful and made sure his grades stayed up, despite being distracted.
One Saturday, Mark came in to work. He noticed that it was already clean, tidy and not a thing out of place. As if he had already done his job. He looked for CC and didn't see her anywhere on the main floor. So, he decided to check out the embalming room.
When he got to the bottom of the stairs, there she was. Wearing the hottest set of black panties, bra and thigh high stockings. On her feet the most delicious black high heels. Her hand on one hip and her fore finger motioning him to come to her.
His cock instantly sprang to life as he watched her sway away and open the door. Inside it was all lit with candles. White cloths covered everything except for one red plus blanket that was covering one of the embalming tables.
She pulled him into her arms, slipped her tongue into his mouth and then said, "Take off your clothes and lay on the table."
It took seconds for him to comply. Anticipation thrumming through his veins, his heart pounding, and his cock at attention, full.
She sauntered to his side, placed a blindfold over his eyes. When he protested, she placed her finger on his lips, "sshhh."
From under the table, she took long black Velcro straps and bound him down. He was confused and excited at the same time.
"Mark, you are one lucky little man. I brought company today. You are getting your first gang bang and all you must do is lay there and enjoy the ride, or rides."
"CC, uhm, I'm not sure about this." He was a little frightened.
"Well kid, you kinda got not choice." She bent over, kissed him deeply and stroked him slowly. It was only moments before he came all over her hand and all over himself. She took a warm cloth and washed him down.
"We had to get that quick one outta the way before we can get this party started."
What Mark couldn't see were the 2 women and one man waiting for their turns.
He didn't know why he kept silent, he felt a loss of control and excitement at the same time. He just waited heartbeat by heartbeat for the next sensation to take him over.
He felt a soft kiss on his lips, unfamiliar but pleasurable. A smaller hand grasped his member and started slowing stroking him, bringing him erect once again. Soon there was a feeling of someone joining him on the table, straddling him. A slow decent and soon his cock was buried deep inside someone. She was bouncing up and down on him riding his storm.
"CC you weren't wrong, his cock is magic." Cried the strange woman. Her orgasm screaming through her. Moments passed and another orgasm rocked through Mark. How can you have both pleasure and disgust at the same time? He wondered. All he wanted was this day this over and done.
Again, a nice warm cloth cleaned him up after this strange woman left the table.
"CC, can I go now?" A tight squeeze of his hair and a dark harsh whisper in his hear "Shut up kid, don't say another fucking word. I'll tell your parents everything be damned my own job." He had never heard CC talk like that before. He tried pulling at the restraints but it was to no avail.
"Another friend is joining us. Take it easy kid. I promise you will like it."
He felt he had no control, over himself, over her or over the situation. He thought to himself. Roll with it and deal with the rest later. What else could he do? He pulled himself inside his brain to that place where he would go when life was just too much to bear.
After a few seconds he heard shuffling feet, and a warm mouth took his soft cock. Somehow against his own will, he got hard again. This person's mouth sliding up and down on him. A moan came from that person, a deep sound.
The wet mouth left him for a moment, "CC I have to ride him, I just have to," said a very masculine voice.
"Fuck no Joe, that wasn't our deal. Just finish it or get the fuck out!"
Mark felt bile rise in his throat. A man, NO! He wanted to yell, to scream at CC to make it stop but her threats kept him at bay. He struggled on the table. This seemed to excite the man and soon enough that mouth was on him again. How is this possible that he felt an orgasm for a man's mouth when he wasn't gay. Why is his body betraying him? Why?
A soft wet cloth cleans him up again. He is spent, nothing left in him. No more semen, no more strength.
CC comes over to him and whispers, "Sorry about that little dude. You weren't supposed to know it was a guy. He was just supposed to suck you off. He told me he just wanted it kinda like a fantasy he would keep in his brain before he goes back to his wife. You see little man, you did him a big favour. I promise this next lady will make you happy."
More! No more! He couldn't, he wouldn't! No, No, NO! he struggled against his restraints again.
CC came over to him and gently stroked his hair, "Hey little one, its ok. We will be cool, I promise you. I consider this a big favour and I will owe you one. Please be quiet a bit longer and it will all be over, K?" She kisses him sweetly and walks away.
He blocks his mind away, one more time. Another person comes over smelling like sweet perfume. Familiar perfume. She strokes his hair, kisses him as well and slowly strokes his body until she finds his flaccid cock. Slowly stroking him hard again. She climbs on the table and impales herself on him. She grinds over and over loudly expressing to the room her pleasure. Mark, unable to control himself is pushed over the edge once again, fortunately at the same time as this strange woman above him. She climbs down and quietly leaves the room.
In the background CC whispers to the company and escorts them out the side door of the building.
When she returns to Mark, she gently releases him.
"Mark, I'm sorry. I thought you might like it, but the dude really messed up your head. Forgive me?" She smiles at him.
All he wanted was out of there, out of the building and out of her life. He was desperate to exit this life, this experience, and this woman.
He bolted from the table, grabbed his clothes, and headed out of the room.
"Remember kid, I'll tell your parents and I'll tell them this was all your idea. I'll be the victim."
Mark dressed quickly and ran out of the building, running and running all the way home. He didn't call for his ride, he didn't wait for a bus. He just ran. He ran and ran. When he got home, he bolted in the front door. His parents were in the front room when he came inside.
His father, "what are you doing home? Why didn't you ask for a ride?"
He was trapped, what could he say? CC's warning was pounding in his head. "Uhm early day, so I decided to go for a jog. I'm gonna go shower now."
With that he left the room and headed towards his bedroom. But on the way a familiar smell of perfume wafted up his nose. Mark suddenly knew and he started retching immediately and all over the hallway floor.
| Author Notes | The story is best read from the beginning and maybe you have the stomach to get to the end? |
By EILEEN LAW
Pound, pound, pitter patter is the soft thud of little feet. A pretty little brunette girl, around 6 years old is giggling as she runs away from her father, her curls bouncing as she runs. Her father is making tickle fingers at her and is crouching while he slowly chases his daughter.
She is bright and innocent and loves her parents and her older sister. Her life is full of affection and laughter. Although her parents are poor, they love their children and do everything for them that their meager existence can afford. They named her Karma Sandrine, but everyone called her Katie Girl. Katie has an older sister named Tangerine who prefers to call herself Terry, much to her parents' chagrin.
All in life is simple for this throwback family who still live in the hippie era. They can be seen making their own soap and repurposing used furniture, farming their own small piece of property to grow most of the food they eat.
In the summers, the girls would spend at least 2 weeks at their grandparents' house in Boise Idaho. It wasn't as much fun of a place, but it was obvious that this family was close.
One hot summer day the 2 girls were playing outside in the front yard of their grandparents' house, while gramma was drinking tea on the wrap around front porch watching them. Inside, the phone rings and gramma leaves to take the call.
"Be right back, girls. Stay in the yard." She shouts at her grandchildren while entering the house.
A dark figure hiding behind the shrub next to the gate took advantage and quickly ran into the yard. Scoop! The cute brunette was grabbed, and he was gone before anyone noticed, including her sister playing only a few feet away.
Grandmother was back a few seconds later and scanned the yard looking for the girls. She found Tangerine quite quickly and shouted, "Tangerine! Where is your sister?"
"Uhm, I don't know gramma!" She says while she quickly scanned the yard.
The grandmother came down the stairs as quickly as she could, calling for her granddaughter. She canvassed the neighbourhood and talked with some of the homeowners, all the while she kept a tight grip on her other granddaughter. With her throat sore from calling for the missing child and tired from walking around, she deemed it time to call the police.
The police came and interviewed the grandmother and Tangerine. They also spoke to all the neighbours and local shops. Soon enough there were posters plastered all over the city. Not a single sight of the little girl was found anywhere. Joe and Samantha, the little girl's parents, blamed the grandmother for not paying enough attention. The grandmother unfortunately transferred that guilt down to little Tangerine.
Hours, days and then weeks slipped by with no notice of the little girl. The police interrogated the parents, the grandparents, neighbours and friends of the family. Eventually the police were calling it a 'cold case'.
With time, the family made peace with each other. All of them were now overprotective of their remaining daughter, when they could take time away from the investigation and did pay her any attention at all.
One night when the family was all together and they had spent the night pouring over what evidence they did have as a group, they tired and soon enough they were all asleep.
Tangerine woke up to the sound of a kitten crying. She got out of bed to find the noise. Quietly she crept downstairs listening hard for the sound. The mewing was getting a little louder. Soon she came to the basement door. It was slightly ajar, and the mewing seemed to be coming from the dark scary basement. She thought for a minute about waking her parents but decided to venture forth anyway. She expected them to rush her back to bed without really listening to her in the first place.
She flicked the light on, and the sound seemed to get louder. Down the wooden steps to the basement. She rounded the corner and she saw, over in the corner, next to the furnace, her sister. She was covered in dirt, her hair matted and her nightgown was both bloody and filthy. She was sucking her thumb, her knees tight against her chest. She was shivering on the cold basement floor. Tangerine screamed at the top of her lungs to get her parents' attention. Little did she know that the perpetrator was hiding around the corner, looking for a quick escape. Tangerine ran to her sister's side, and tried to hug her. Her sister cowered away and started screaming. Upstairs a thumping and thudding was heard as her family scrambled to get to the basement.
Joe, Katies father, was the first to arrive. He pushed passed Tangerine and scooped Katie Girl up into his arms. Samantha was close behind him. In the shuffle and confusion as everyone headed upstairs, they left poor Tangerine alone again, in the basement. She was confused, terrified, and felt so very abandoned.
"Tangerine! Come upstairs, now!" Shouted her mother.
She made her way upstairs and saw her mom on the phone with the police, her father was putting on his jacket, grabbing his keys. He was off to the hospital with the terrified, screaming child in his arms. After Samantha hung up she took a second vehicle and headed to the hospital, leaving instructions for the Grandmother to speak to the police, who were sending teams to both the hospital and the house.
Tangerine was left with her grandmother at the house, while everyone else left. Her grandmother was hugging her and rocking her, praying for the little Katie Girl who had just left.
Doctors determined that the child had been severely sexually assaulted. No orifice was left untouched. Her insides were decimated, and it was evident the child would need immediate surgery. The doctors were unsure if the child would survive, because she had lost so much blood. They were unable to save her uterus and her vagina was so damaged they were only able to stitch and sew it up. Her bowels had to be reconstructed and she had an ostomy bag surgically placed in her abdomen. She was covered in scratches, and bruises and her left eye socket was cracked. She also had some brain swelling. As a result of her injuries, the doctors recommended a medically induced coma so the child could heal some before waking her.
Katie Girl eventually woke up. She was afraid of everything and everyone. When she wasn't crying, she was silent and curled in a ball, sucking her thumb.
Finally, one day, Tangerine was allowed to see her sister. The parents were hoping that seeing her would help to calm Katie Girl.
They were right. The moment that Katie Girl saw Tangerine she grabbed her sister and wouldn't let her go. Rocking back and forth. Tangerine didn't mind at all and hugged her sister tightly.
Since Katie Girl's return, she hadn't spoken a word. Only crying, moaning, and screaming when waking from nightmares. Eventually doctors were able to reverse the stoma and Katie Girl was released from the hospital. However, due to her emotional state they sent her to a mental hospital to help her, hoping she would eventually return to the sweet girl that was taken that day long ago.
Whatever had happened to that poor girl. She never was 'normal' again. She was mentally stuck at the age of a 6-year-old girl. The perpetrator was never found. Terry made her sister a promise that one day, she would get the bad man. She would do her best to keep that promise.
| Author Notes | This story is deep, complicated and macabre. Enjoy! |
By EILEEN LAW
"C'mon Warren, just do this one for me?" Terry says into her cell phone
while sitting in her car. "Consider it a favour and I'll owe you one."
She was trying to get San Jose PD to run the cell phone for her. Maybe
that will lead to some clues on this missing person case. She knew it
really wasn't a missing person, most likely this was a homicide. No one
leaves a job, marriage, or family without taking their purse and cell
phone. And considering the fact that they found her car at the end of a
mountain's winding road it seemed to support either kidnapping or
murder.
"All right Tangerine, I'll get it done. Just give me some time, ok?"
Warren teasing her about her real first name was an open opportunity
that Terry rarely let slip by.
With that taken care of. Next, she had to get someone to look at the
blue surgical glove. What secrets were hidden there? This one she took
the chance that the forensic identification investigators at her PD office
would take care of it and not forward the findings on to her Seargeant.
Her next move was to investigate the disappearance of "Buddy" the
teen age boy. Everyone at the precinct thought it was just a runaway,
but again her gut was telling her otherwise. She was off to visit the
parents.
When she arrived at their front door, she was greeted by whom she
assumed was Buddie's sister. She looked around 14 had shoulder length
blonde hair with a slight curl to it. She is pretty and has bright green
eyes that catch Terry's attention.
"Can I help you?" she says to Terry with a bright smile full of braces.
"Yes, I am Detective Smythe, are you parents at home?" Terry looks
past the teen down the hallway of the middle-class home.
"Yea, hey mom! Some detective is here for you!" She yells down the
hall.
After a minute a middle-aged brunette comes to the door. It's obvious
now where the green eyes came from.
"Hello detective, can I help you?"
"I'm Detective Terry Smythe, you can call me Terry. I'm here to ask you
questions about your son, Buddy. Do you have a minute to talk, Mrs.
Stang?" She asks.
"Please detective, come in." She backs away from the door and ushers
Terry into the living room. "Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Water?"
"Water, thank you". Terry senses this woman will need a friendlier
approach, so she engages her accordingly.
Soon after they are sitting diagonally across from each other.
"I don't understand detective, we have spoken already to your
department. Is there something new that we don't know about?"
"This is just routine follow up and will only take a few minutes. Did
Buddy have any close friends at school?"
"Not really, he mostly had on-line friendships. He is kind of a loner.
That's why I insisted that he isn't a run-away but missing." She has a
worried look on her face.
"When he left for school that day, did he take anything extra? Like extra
clothing or excessive food?"
"No there was nothing unusual that I can think of"
"Did Buddy have a cell phone?"
"Yes, he did but he took it with him, wherever he went. Please
detective, find my son. He is a little confused about us but we love him
so much." She cried into her hand.
"I'm sorry to pry but what do you mean by a little confused?" Terry
inquired.
"He has recently confessed to his sister Lily that he thought he may be
transgender. We just thought he was lonely because he had no friends.
We didn't mean to hurt him or discount his feelings. We just didn't
understand." She replied.
"I'm sure he understands. If you don't mind, can I please have his cell
phone number?" Terry asked.
"Yes, of course, but it's been off since he disappeared."
Terry writes down the number.
"You said he liked online games. Do you still have his laptop here?" She
inquired.
"No, the last detective came and took it â?" a Sargeant somebody. Hold
on I'll get his card." She rises from the chair.
"No that's not necessary â?" I know who it is at my precinct."
Terry gets up and heads towards the door. She passes the mother a
card.
"If you think of anything else, please don't hesitate to call me."
At the front door, the mother pauses, "Please detective. I know
something is wrong. Please find my boy. I feel so bad about the last
thing I said to him. I love him and just want him home." She lowered
her eyes as tears slipped down her cheek.
Terry was tempted to hug the woman, to offer some comfort. However,
protocols are protocols and she stood her ground.
"I will do my very best to get you some answers Mrs. Stang."
With that she climbed into her car and re-rang Warren.
"Hey Terry, what's up? You miss me that much?" She could almost hear
his grin on the other end of the phone. Warren always had a bit of a
crush on her, a fact that she is currently using to get her way.
"Ah Warren what can I say? You're charming.....Uhm can I add a phone
number to that search you're doing? It just came up and I really need
this one run as well. The only thing is I don't have the actual phone.
Just the phone number." She slightly winced as she asked.
"If I do this, next time you're in town you have to go out for a drink with
me."
Terry really had no choice but to agree.
"Of course, but platonic drinks, ok?"
She would try to wiggle out of it later, if she had to. She gives him the
phone number and says her goodbye's.
She drives to the last place that Buddy was seen, headed to the park. It
wasn't hard to figure out the path that he would have taken to get
home, so she sets out on the path and scours around as best as she
could. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be in the park. It was a
long shot anyway. She walks back the way she came, and heads to her
car. As she is exiting the gate she sees a quick flash. The sunlight
flashed on some glass. She looks down and just under the fence is a
crushed and destroyed cell phone. It was partially hidden by the
newspaper. She leans down and picks it up by the corners. She gets
back to her vehicle and grabs an evidence bag and slips it into the bag.
Just maybe this one will turn up being Buddy's but it was a long shot.
She included it in the package she was sending to Warren. She carefully
packaged up the cell phones and sent them off via Fedex, directly to
SJPD and to Warren.
She heads back to the precinct but it's late and the morning shift have
all left for the day. Most of the afternoon crew were busy getting ready
to head out.
Terry heads down to the evidence room and finds it unattended. She
swipes her card and enters the room. Between some shelves in a back
corner, she finds the box for Buddy's case and sitting inside that box,
was Buddy's laptop, undisturbed and still inside the original evidence
bag. No one bothered to start it up and look for evidence. What exactly
is going on at this precinct? She was getting tired of half-assed work and
disappointing results.
She quickly tucks the laptop under her arm and leaves. As she is walking
in the hallway, one of the street cops stops her to say hello.
"Hey Smythe, what are you still doing here? Working hard or hardly
working?" he smiles at her.
"Ah Jones, just wrapping up." She smiles at the handsome young cop.
She casually shrugs the laptop under her arm and says, "gonna catch up
on some files when I get home.
With that she steps away and heads home. She really did have some
work to do. Let's hope there isn't a password on that laptop.
| Author Notes | The story is dark and twisted - try to play along. |
By EILEEN LAW
His legs were shaking as he tried to be as quiet as he could. Sneaking around was never something that Mark had ever done before. He was always a rule follower. However, his mother, thinking he was sick and in bed, would never expect him to be up and about.
He took his time, making sure his parents were otherwise occupied in a different part of the house. He eventually reached his mother's office and opened the door. He took a quick glance to make sure there were no cleaning staff in this wing of the house and none in her office.
He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he knew he had to find something. He walked up to her desk and scanned the surface for anything that would catch his attention. Nothing here. He opened drawers and found typical things, such as pens, paper, notebooks, and files. He scanned some of these files and found them to be work related.
In the bottom right drawer, he found his mother's date book. This he opened and scanned the pages the flipped to the schedule she had for today. The day that changed Mark forever.
Here were written notes about her office appointments for the morning and in the afternoon was written "hairdresser" for the entire afternoon. He flipped through previous pages and noted "hairdresser" on almost every Thursday afternoon for weeks previous and into the future. On several evenings he noted "Plato's Retreat". This seemed to coincide with the days that Mark knew both of his parents went to visit with the Dokken's.
Mark grabbed a piece of paper from the trash and noted these things down. He stuffed this piece of paper into his pants. He was careful to put everything back on his mothers' desk, exactly as he found it. He then quietly slipped back into the hall.
He heard noises coming from the left side of the hall so he snuck to the right, knowing he would now have to take the servants stairs to get back up to his room. This would be risky as someone may catch him wandering the halls when he is supposed to be sick in bed. Sure enough as he approached the stairs one of the drivers called out, "Hey Mark, what are you doing down here?" The driver put a set of keys in a narrow wood cabinet in the wall next to where he was standing in the staff area of the house.
"Oh, uhm I was looking for the Kitchen. Thought I might get a glass of warm milk. You know, to help settle my stomach." Good thing he was quick minded.
"You get back to bed, I'll have Janie bring it up to you."
With that Mark turned and went up the stairs and back into his room. He quickly went into his bed and stuffed his note under his pillow. Within a few minutes Janie was there with his warm milk.
"I put some chocolate in it for you, but don't tell your mom." She winked.
His parents frowned on sugar so this was indeed a rare treat.
"Thank you so much Janie." He said and with that he was alone.
Time for Mark to make a plan. He knew now he needed to follow his parents and figure out what Plato's Retreat was and where. That's all he really had, that and the 'hairdresser'.
--------------------------------------------
A few days later, after having convinced his parents that he was well, Mark started hatching his plan. He spent some time getting to know the patterns of the staff, their comings and goings. He noted where the cars were and when and how his parent engaged the driver. He knew tonight was the night that they were going to the Dokken's house. He wanted to follow them to find out exactly what they were doing there.
His parents were known to follow appointments and schedules in a military fashion. They were never late for anything and expected the same from their son too.
This night they had instructed Mark to finish homework and gets some sleep for the next day of school. He was 15 and didn't need a babysitter so Mark was left to his own accord. Most of the staff were gone except for Janie who was there just to get anything that Mark would ask for.
Mark knew that they would call for the car in about 15 minutes so he dressed in black pants and a black pullover sweater and snuck out to the garage. The Black Jaguar XJ Series II was what they were taking out this night. Mark had the spare key in his pocket, having pilfered it a few days earlier. He felt bad for Brad the driver as Mark overheard his father giving Brad a dressing down for losing the spare keys.
Mark used the key and opened the trunk. He was careful to make sure he pulled the trunk closed but not latched. He climbed in and curled up in the narrow but deep space.
Soon enough Brad was in the garage along with Janie.
"Ok my love, I'll be back soon, wait for me in the back guest room. I promise to make worth the wait." He kissed the young pretty Hispanic girl deep and long.
"I know the kid will be busy with homework so he won't bother us. I'll be waiting." She smiled as she turned.
With a playful swat to her bottom, he walked to the Jaguar started it up and pulled it out of the garage.
Mark's parents entered the back of the vehicle and Mark was able to overhear their conversation, although some of it was muffled.
"We need to talk to Cassandra and get this all straightened out. We can't have her talking to anyone." Marks father Alistair said to his wife Cindra.
"You're right. I'll talk to her first." Cindra was just as in control as her husband. Both very serious people.
What Mark couldn't see was his father had his fingers buried inside his wife's underwear having slipped her skirt up her trim thighs. This was a game they played. How to remain in complete control above the waist while someone sexually tortures you from below. If the driver looked into the mirror, he would not see any evidence of the play going on in the back seat behind him.
"How was your day at the hairdressers?" Alistair asked his wife.
"One of the best days ever." She had a hint of a smile on her perfectly made-up face. Nothing showing above the waist but inside her a fresh flow of fluid soaked his fingers.
The car slowed and stopped. The couple exited the vehicle and their driver Brad walked them to the door of the building.
Mark pushed the trunk up a few inches. Just enough to see the door of the building his parent just entered. "Plato's Retreat" the sign read.
He saw them walk inside the door and with the door open he saw a glimpse of what he thought was a naked woman with her arms outstretched to take his mother's coat. Then the door closed.
At that moment an elegantly dressed woman was walking towards the door. Suddenly Mark's stomach dropped through his feet and his face lost all the blood. This woman, with her black hair slicked back was CC! She looked so different! She had on a floor length green sequined gown with a slit so high you could see the edges of her black lace panties. Her long legs clad in black heels with straps that wound around her legs. What in the heck was she doing here? And exactly what goes on in this place?
Brad, who was still close to the door, opened it for her slightly nodding in her direction.
CC slipped inside to also be greeted by the same nude woman.
Mark decided it was now or never. He rolled on his side and put one leg out of the trunk. He kept the trunk as low as possible. Once he was out, he pushed the trunk down and he heard the quiet click of the trunk's latch. Crouching he slipped between the parked cars along the side of the building. He tried to stay as much in the darkened areas as he could. When a couple walked past him, he pretended to be unlocking a door of the car closest to him.
Soon enough he found himself around the side of the building. Curious that there were few windows and only the one door. The building was made of cement Lego style bricks stacked one upon the other. It was painted black and from all appearances it looked like a warehouse of some type. He saw a chain link fence blocking his path to the back area. He walked along the fence that took him away from the side of the building and under a tree. At the tree there was an opening that he assumed some vandal had cut into it. He pushed his way through that opening and worked his way to the rear of the building. There he saw multiple old pallets haphazardly scattered around the yard area. There was a bay door and a set of cement stairs to the left of that door. The stairs reaching the back of the warehouse were around 5 feet from the ground and entered the building through a steel door, that was also painted black. To the left of these stairs was one window. The curtains in that window had a split that was around 2 inches wide. From there he could see a red light. Mark was unable to reach this window from the ground so he dragged some pallets to create a makeshift box that he would climb up to look into the window.
He looked through the curtains and inside what he saw made him want to instantly throw up some more. He swallowed his bile while he scanned the room.
He saw a large room filled with beds and mats. Upon these were couples of varying ages and body types all engaged in different stages of sex. Some oral and some vaginal some anal. They were all writhing in passion and shouting to the room. In the far-left corner he saw his mother, naked and half leaning back on her hands. CC was between her legs licking her with her tongue. CC was kneeling and Mark's father was buried inside her from behind.
Mark lost his balance on the precariously stacked old pallets and found himself stumbling and falling off the pile. He was able to get down without much injury but the loud noises caught the attention of the people inside.
Mark started running back the way he came. A dressed man came out the back door shouting at Mark as he ran away. Soon enough he reached the split in the fence and quickly forced his way through, tearing his shirt and causing a deep gouge in his back as he did.
Mark ran away from the building and down the street. He wasn't sure where he was but he just kept running. About a block away he spotted the Dokken's funeral home and that was enough for him to figure out how to get home.
For the second time Mark was running away from the funeral home. Running as if his life depended on it. He ran as fast as he could, unaware of the blood seeping from the gash in his back. He had to get back to the house, had to get back in that bed so if his parents came home, they would not know it was him that was caught peeking through the window.
When Mark got to the door, it was locked. He ran around the side to the back door where the staff entered and found it locked as well. He scanned the back of the building and up on the second floor there was a light on, and the French doors were open. He climbed into the tree beside the deck and made his way to the patio. Thank God the room was empty. However, as he entered, he didn't notice the blood that he left dripping on the deck floor.
Inside, he made his was carefully towards the servant stairs. There he ran into Brad and Janie. They were both in bathrobes and holding onto each other.
"Uhm hey kid, watcha doin hanging around here again?" Brad asked obvious guilt on his face.
Janie, with her arm wrapped around Brads half hiding behind him said, "Its ok you know. We were just getting ready to go home."
Mark straightened his spine and put confidence in his face as he looked at the staff members.
"I already know about you two, so don't pretend to hide it. You don't say anything to my parents and I won't tell them about your tryst in the back guest room." Mark said with far more confidence than he felt. He pushed past them and they turned to look at his back.
"Oh my God Mark!" Janie exclaimed with shock on her face, "your back. It's all cut up!"
It was at this time that all the adrenaline from his day slipped away and Mark found himself weak in the knees. Brad grabbed the teen and helped him towards his room.
Janie ran to the bathroom and in the medicine cabinet she grabbed supplies to clean up Mark's wound.
All three were now in Mark's room. Mark went to the bathroom to strip out of his clothes, don Pajama bottoms and a robe. Janie fixed up his back as much as she could and recommended, that he may need stitches.
"Seems as if we all have secrets here." Said Brad. "I'll get rid of these clothes for you and keep your secret if you keep ours."
Mark thought this was the best news he had the entire day and readily agreed. Cleaned up and bandaged he slunk into his bed and was soon fast asleep. His parents found him there later that night. They had no idea it was him that had peeked through the window at the club.
However, Cindra saw a patch of blood on Marks blanket.
| Author Notes | The story winds around and around, but eventually it ends up all at the same place, keep reading |
By EILEEN LAW
Terry opens Olesia Ivanov's file. Inside, the following facts are gleaned. She is an immigrant who only recently arrived in the country. She is divorced and her husband is still in the Ukraine, along with her children. She has a local lawyer working on her green card and getting her children into the country.
She is employed through a work-visa programme and was sponsored by The Kimpton Hotel. Covid struck down most of the employees and local people were hard to find. Olesia's skills seemed to fit the needs at the time. A copy of her passport and the work visa are in the file.
Olesia was only in the country for 2 months when she disappeared. Her last known location was at the Albertsons where a clerk remembered seeing her at the checkout. There was a remark about Olesia's accent and difficulty with English. She was reported missing when she didn't show up for work for a few days.
Olesia was living in a one room apartment not far from her work. She had no known outside work relationships. Interviews with her co-workers revealed that she kept to herself and performed her duties well.
Olesia's cell phone records were being requested but there was nothing yet in the file. Finally, someone did something about cell phones, Terry thought to herself.
Terry determined that a deeper look into her work and neighbors may bring up information not contained in the file. She quickly marked down the lawyer's name and contact information, Olesia's direct supervisors name at work and her home address. She left the precinct and climbed into her unmarked car.
She stopped at the lawyers first. When she approached the desk, the receptionist asked her to wait and she would let Amanda Henderson know that she was waiting.
After almost an hour, she was escorted to a board room. A few minutes later a serious looking older woman entered the room.
"Detective Smythe, how can I help you?" She asked her hand outstretched.
"Good afternoon and thank you for seeing me." Terry replied having shook the lawyer's hand and taken a seat.
Amanda took the seat opposite of her and plunked down a manilla file, that Terry assumed belonged to Olesia.
"I am following up on the disappearance of Olesia Iverson. I understand you are taking care of her immigration case?" Terry inquired.
"Yes, I am but I fail to see how this will help in your investigation Detective Terry. There is nothing unusual about her file."
Terry sensed this woman was going to hold all information close to her and this was going to need a deft hand.
"I was wondering about the company that sponsored her. Who was that exactly?" Terry asked already knowing the hotel was the sponsor.
"It was a numbered company registered out of California. A hotel chain with a local branch here." She replied.
Terry, surprised somewhat by the answer kept her reactions inside.
"I understand but do you have the contact information for the office that handled the request?"
"Detective Terry, do you have a specific reason for this request? I fail to see how it would connect to her disappearance." An irritated face replied.
"Well, Mrs. Henderson. With all due respect. You are the expert in immigration issues and I will be the one determining if anything is pertinent or not. However, if you choose, I can get this information directly from Immigration USA and Olesia's agent, when they ask me why I contacted them instead of her lawyer, what would you prefer I say to them?"
Terry knew any inquiries to Immigration could potentially affect the lawyers' relationship with the agent and with the department as a whole.
"Fine Detective, I'll have my secretary copy all the information you need. Have a nice day."
With that last comment she abruptly left the boardroom without a backwards glance.
Terry went to reception alone and found herself waiting for several minutes before the information was given to her. Guess she irritated the woman.
Terry then headed over to the hotel. It was an elegant establishment and looked expensive. She entered the lobby and at reception asked to speak to the manager. After a few minutes a rather handsome man in his late 30's came to the front desk. He was tall, around 6 foot 2 and had a Hispanic look. He was dressed in an expensive business suit and shiny black shoes. He stood tall and had an almost arrogant look to his face. He wore heavy cologne and a bright forced smile.
"Detective, please follow me." After a quick handshake he escorted her to the back office and encouraged her to sit down.
"How can I help you detective?" He smiled that saccharine grin at her again. He passed her his business card and it read, Jose Montiguez, General Manager.
"Detective Smythe. I wanted to speak to you about Olesia Invanov. I understand she worked here?" Terry asked him not taking her eyes off of him. She needed him to feel her authority.
"Yes, she did work here. But she wasn't working the day she disappeared. She just didn't show up for work and after a few days we called the police. We hold her work permit and we are required to report these things." He added without prompting.
"Did she have any friends or was she close to any of her co-workers that you are aware of?" Terry asked.
At this question Terry noticed that his professional arrogant face slipped a little. Something she took mental note of.
"She was pretty quiet as she had so much trouble with her English. But she did talk to another Ukrainian on our staff. A Sven Ericson. He is a porter here. They seemed to get along well and I frequently had to tell them that when they were around our customers, they had to speak English and not Russian or whatever it is they spoke."
This comment she found odd. It seemed our manager was prejudiced at least a little, against Ukrainians. Considering the danger and the war over there you would think he would be more compassionate. Terry again marked this little tidbit and continued.
"Can I get his contact information, please?"
"I'll pull his employment card and get his number for you." A pause and a curious look on his face. "Detective, why did it take so long for your precinct to come down here and ask questions?"
Terry is quick and answers, "We were looking elsewhere until today. Thank you for your time. Can I get that number please?"
What? No one interviewed her work before? That's very odd. Incompetence and incomplete work all over that office.
After she received the number, she left for Olesia's home address. She wasn't able to get inside the building. She saw a young man entering and asked them.
"Excuse me but did you know Olesia? I understand she used to live here?"
"Yes, she lived in 10C. But she kept to herself. I didn't really know her." The young blonde man answered. "Who are you?" He asked.
Terry figured this person would probably not talk to cops so she answered. "I am working on her Green Card application and was wondering what her forwarding address was. We haven't been able to reach her."
"Oh man, you gotta get caught up. She disappeared a couple of months ago. No ones seen her. The landlord packed up her stuff and turfed it so she could rent out her pad again."
"Oh really. Do you happen to know the landlord's number?" Terry asked.
"Yea, I got it in my phone."
A couple of minutes later Terry had what she wanted. When the young man entered the building Terry slipped in behind. Good thing the kid wasn't paying attention. Terry made her way to the lobby and found the mail boxes. 10C was overstuffed. She plucked out some fliers and, in the mix, she found a credit card statement issued to Olesia Ivanov. She slipped this inside her pocket and left. Today was a good day. But she had a pile of work to do.
Terry went home and there she started her diorama. She needed to piece together some of the clues she was able to gather, so far and to make a plan going forward.
YVETTE TURNER SANDRA JESPERSON OLESIA IVANOV BUDDY STANG
43 years old female 26-year-old female 51-year-old female 14-year-old male
Husband Frank Single Husband Sven Teenager
Last seen - leaving work Last seen â€" work Last seen â€" grocery store Last seen â€" school
June of last year 9 months ago 4 months ago last week
Interviewed husband Inv co-workers Interview Sven & store Interviewed mother
& Joe Strabynski
Evidence gathered
Personal cell blue sweater Cell missing already got # Laptop
Blue glove at scene Prescription Charge card statement Cell # & cell phone?
Relationships
Husband Frank Boyfriend? Husband â€" divorced Sister & teachers,
Adult children Joe Garrison? Sven â€" close co-worker counsellor classmates
Joe Strabynski Where is family? Landlord emptied apartment
Follow up
Niece Stefanie - email Call Garrison go through CC bill Laptop â€" browsing
Look at car impounded Re â€" visit pub? Pharmacy purchase Check game friends
Purse â€" prescription Call Sven and landlord Cell bill â€" call Mom
What is the connection here? Why is Joe such a common name or thread here? Why the teenage boy when before it's all women â€" are they actually connected? Why is the precinct ignoring the connections here? Why are they doing such a poor job on these? Is it just these cases or is the whole precinct corrupted?
Waiting for:
Blue glove â€" are there fingerprints? DNA? Present
Cell phones â€" Bills â€" see common numbers â€" pinging â€" where were they based on pings â€" cell towers
Charge card statement â€" find a path that Olesia took â€" try to get surveillance camera footage if possible.
Well, she had so much more work to do. Terry now thinks her own precinct may have something to do with these cases.
| Author Notes | It seems that Terry is on to something. |
By EILEEN LAW
A beautiful baby boy. Mark Alistair Conners the third. Mac as they liked to call him. M-A-C being the baby's initials. Aliss had some difficulties in the delivery and required more time to heal. But eventually with Mark's help she was ready to come home.
Mark and the nanny he hired, took over most of the baby's care, with the exception of breast feeding, so Aliss could continue her healing. Even though she felt ready to resume her mothering duties she trusted Marks advice and took a little extra time in bedrest to completely heal.
Mark had Aliss create a chart that contained every event that the baby created. This included feeding times, diaper changes and rest routines. The nanny would add to the chart as well. Aliss insisted on doing most of the work. However, most days when she would check on her son, she would find the nanny already taking care of him, before she even reached the baby's room. The nanny did a good job, but Aliss found herself irritated on occasion. It was her baby, after all.
One evening Mark engaged Aliss in a conversation during dinner.
"Aliss, I think you shouldn't go back to work. I want you to stay home after your maternity leave. Its best for baby Mac." Mark was pretty much telling her what to do rather than asking for her input.
"I understand, but we already have a nanny and a housekeeper. Returning to work will give me something outside of this house to do. Besides, I love my job. I've been there since college." Aliss looked at Mark with a pleading look on her face.
"Aliss, my mother worked as hard as my father. As a result, I spent most of my days trapped in my room, without much contact from my parents. I want our son to see his mother everyday and his father as much as possible."
Mark without realizing it, was actually become more like his own father, despite swearing to himself he wouldn't.
"I understand Mark but we aren't your parents. I will always love my son and engage with him every day. I actually don't even need a nanny. Especially if I am going to stay home with him."
"Aliss, I want you to stay home and raise our son. The nanny can help when you need to do things outside of the house, but not at your job. You will call your old boss and officially resign." Mark instructed.
Aliss was a little perturbed at his insolence but knew better than to argue too hard. Especially without any convincing reasoning. She had one more shot and she was going to take it.
"I will agree, if you give me one thing." Aliss beamed her smile at him. She knew what worked with him. Logic, clear conversing and she also knew he had a soft spot for her smile. Mark did love his wife despite his controlling ways.
"What is that, my dear." He smiled back.
"If I stay home. We get rid of the nanny. I will give our son all of my attention. All of the attention you didn't get. Didn't you say that although you loved your nanny, that you would rather have had your mom or dad spend all that time with you?" Sound logic, a quick smile and a promise.
"Ok fine. But if we have more children then we get a full-time nanny, ok?"
Aliss was unaware that Mark had already decided that one son was enough. He was going to have that conversation with her soon, but not tonight. This compromise was a ruse to get Aliss to agree in the first place.
"Fine and agreed." Aliss was internally dancing. It was rare that she could outmaneuver her husband with verbal wit.
"One thing Aliss. You fire the nanny. You want her gone you have to do it." Mark looked at her and Aliss knew he wasn't taking no on this point. She liked the girl and didn't want anyone to lose a job. She would give the girl enough notice to find other work.
The nanny didn't take the news well. Her face went deep red and a vein appeared at her temple.
"You don't know that baby like I do." Were her only words. Inside the nanny had a crush on the doctor and was hoping he would feel the same back. If she left here, she would not get a change to pursue the handsome doctor. Aliss was in her way as his wife and now she was kicking her out of the house. Things have a way of coming back on people. Although Aliss offered her notice and a generous compensation. The girl just up and left at that exact moment.
Aliss was true to her word. Every moment that child was awake she was by his side. He was a very loved boy and well taken care of.
Mark, when he wasn't at work received Aliss's reports on his son and his progress. He also had access to both Aliss and Macs medical reports so he was well appraised of their progress as well.
When his son was 2 Aliss asked about having another baby. Mark chose this time to tell her about his future plans.
"Aliss now that I have finished my internship and my residency, I thought I would take this time to pursue my dream of being a medical examiner. This will take me some time as I will have to study again and put in more time at the hospital. So, I think we should wait on having another baby, at least for now."
She was crestfallen. They discussed having 4 kids when they were dating. Did this mean she would only have the one son? They were financially stable, had a great home in an incredible neighbourhood. And she was a stay-at-home mother. Why not have more?
"I can handle more children and you can still achieve your goals. Many parents have larger families and both parents' work." Aliss pleaded.
"This is temporary. A couple more years. Then I'll be done and we can try at that time, Ok?"
She sighed and dropped her chin down. Mark, tipped up her chin like he used to do when they were dating. He kissed her gently and sweetly. Her heart skipped a beat like it always did with her handsome husband. Was his kiss calculated? Probably. But it was only 2 years. She is still young enough to have more then. "Ok Mark." She said holding him close.
A couple of weeks later there was a knock at the door. Aliss answered it as Mark was at the hospital.
"Can I help you?"
"Are you Alissandra Conners?" the strange man said.
"Yes, I am. Can I ask what this is about?" she replied.
"Ma'am, you've been served." With that he passed her a large envelope and snapped a picture at the same time. "Have a nice day Ma'am." He climbed into his sedan and left the driveway.
Aliss opened the envelope and inside were court documents. Her ex-nanny was suing on grounds of wrongful dismissal and allegations of domestic abuse.
| Author Notes | My story came to me one afternoon. Being a person who loves crime drama it was born of a collection of stories I have heard, read or witnessed. |
By EILEEN LAW
Mark had to find a way to prove his parents' depravity and with that how it can ruin their reputation in the community. With this he would have enough to get his freedom from them. It was time to find out what this once-a-week hairdresser appointment was. He figured he would get inside the Jag once again and follow his mother.
Slipping inside the trunk he waited. He had told his parents that he was off to the library to work on a school paper. Luckily, they trusted him enough to not question his whereabouts.
Another adventure â€" albeit a not pleasant one. He mused to himself that perhaps he would make a great detective one day. Soon enough the car started and his mother stepped inside.
The driver obviously new the route and silently drove. After around 20 minutes the car stopped, the door opened, and the back seat was empty. Mark didn't have enough time to get out of the trunk before the car started again. Fortunately, the driver only went a few hundred feet before he stopped the car a second time and then got out. Presumably to get food or a snack until Cindra was ready to go back home.
At this time, he was able to open the trunk and exit. He found himself in a rougher part of the city at the parking lot of an apartment building. He walked around to the front of the building and had a look. Nothing seemed unusual or different except that he didn't understand why she was here. She was a stickler for only mixing with the 'right' people. He walked completely around the building and found nothing unusual. A simple rectangular red brick building with parking in front for visitors and in the rear for residents. He returned to the front of the building, scanned the neighborhood then walked across the street. Here he found a strip mall with smaller stores. Pet food, hardware, corner store, and a hair salon. A quick look inside of the hair salon to see she was not at any of the stations inside the salon despite her diary saying she had an appointment.
It was about an hour and he could see the driver was headed back towards the car. Suddenly, the driver turned around and went into the corner convenience store giving Mark an opportunity to rush back to the car. When he got back, he slipped around the corner of the building to watch who was coming out of the front entrance. It was then that he finally got an eye full of what his mother was actually doing every Thursday afternoon.
His mother exited the lobby looking disheveled, with her was a handsome but very young black man. He stood in front of her wearing only tight denim jeans and a huge smile. She turned to him and went into his arms, kissing him deeply. The young man had his arms around her with his hands on her ass. He was grinding himself into her. To this she moaned.
"Now Bo, keep doing that and we will have to go back upstairs." She said this as she slipped her hand to the front of his pants and rubbed him up and down.
"Ah, Mrs. Conners, you know just what to say to a guy don't you?" he pushed his generous mouth against her one more time.
"I have to go, see you next Thursday." She said as she slipped a generous amount of cash into his pants pocket. She turned and walked away while straightening herself out. By the time she turned the corner to reach the car in the back parking lot, she was the prim and proper woman she always appeared to be to the outside world.
Mark had kept himself hidden while watching her. Somehow this didn't shock him as much as he expected. He now knew that his world, the one where he was sequestered into his room, the space inside there and inside his head was destroyed. Completely and totally. He realized that the events of the last few weeks had matured him a multiple of years. It was time he took the world for what it was and take the control. It was now going to be his world and not the stupid illusion his parents tried to make it out to be.
For his mother, it was the late 70's and interracial relationships were still not the norm although society was trying to be more inclusive. However, NOT 'high' society.
If anyone knew all the secrets his parents kept hidden. Especially considering the events of the previous investigation that Mark had conducted. And now today's secret. This would destroy his mother's reputation and by way of default his fathers too. His father! He wondered if he knew what the hairdresser's appointment really was?
With this circumstantial weapon Mark confidently walked towards the Jag â€" only a few seconds behind his mother. She had no clue he was there. After only a moment Brad, the driver saw Mark and a surprised look came across his face.
"What's wrong, Brad?" Cindra asked.
"He is surprised to see me here, mother." Mark said from behind her back.
Cindra spun around so quickly she twisted her ankle and had to grab the open door of the car to prevent herself from falling over. Soon enough she righted herself. Her instant look of surprise was quickly replaced with a haughty 'higher than thou' look.
"Well, son, what takes you out to this neighbourhood?" She said with feigned confidence.
"Let's quit all the BS mother, perhaps father would like to know exactly where your hairdresser's office is....or is not?" Mark was shaking inside but he learned from the best how to keep it all off his face.
"Whatever do you mean, Son?" Her face broke for just a flash of a second. But Mark saw it and, in that saw, he had an opportunity.
"I have never seen a negro male hairdresser before, let alone one who works from inside an apartment building in this area." He looked her straight in the eyes. Unwavering and strong, for the first time feeling he had the advantage over his controlling mother.
"What exactly what did you think you saw?" She said back to him.
"I saw enough. Enough to share. Enough to talk about at one of your fancy little parties or enough to share with father in a quiet little meeting in his office. Enough to ruin poor Bo's life, the only one who doesn't deserve this. Or does he mother? only you can answer that one." He was trying to keep his anger inside to hold back all of his feelings.
"Mark, come on. A parent's private life is just that, Private. Just get in the car." To this she turned and sat herself down. Brad closed the door forcing Mark to walk to the other side and seat himself.
Brad started the car and they drove home in silence. Silence is golden Cindra thought. She definitely did not want this conversation in front of the help. That wouldn't do. When it seemed as if Mark was going to speak, she put her hand up towards him and mouthed 'not in front of the help.'
For this point, Mark complied.
Both passengers took the time in silence to mentally prepare for the desperate conversation coming at the house.
Cindra knew she was going to have to talk to her husband. Mark wasn't aware that Alistair knew about her 'hairdressing appointments', he had some of his own. The pair agreed to keep their marriage open, so long as they were extremely discreet. It was important to keep their reputations intact. The only fact that Alistair was unaware of, was that her person was a negro. That fact must at all costs be kept from him. She now knew she had to talk to Mark first, then Alistair.
Mark was brewing a plan of his own. He had no real intention of destroying his family or its position in society, however, this was an opportunity to get his own freedom. Freedom from the constant control on his time, his schedule and his personal efforts. He was preparing to take down Cindra and in her wake Alistair too.
Soon enough the car arrived at the garage at their expensive large private estate.
"Brad, go inside. I wish to speak to my son. Tell my husband I will join him in his office in a few minutes."
Brad nodded and left the two alone.
"Whatever you think you saw, son is not to be repeated to your father. Do I make myself clear?" She stared deep into his eyes, searching for his usual compliance and found it lacking.
"At this point mother, I think your time for making demands on me is over." He gave her that strong deep look that she used to use to crumble him as a boy.
"Son, we must find a way to both get what we need." She was starting to realize that she wasn't going to win this one.
"I'll tell you what mother, I won't tell dad. Because if he found out your boy toy is a negro, we both know that will break him and this family apart. But I will have certain things that I am going to need in return."
"Exactly what are those certain things?" She was anxious and it showed.
Mark, feeling very strong now that he knew he had the upper hand, exited the vehicle without looking at her. In the past he normally needed permission, not today. He was headed to his father. He didn't want to give her the opportunity to influence him, not that she could.
Mark, walking strong, pushed his father's office door in, without knocking. His mother, hot on his heels entered right behind him.
"Son? What is the meaning of this? Storming into my office? Who do you think you are?" He had risen from his desk absolute anger on his face.
Cindra looked at her husband while crossing the floor to reach his desk. "Husband, let our son speak." She was hoping by showing a little support to her son that it may buy her points.
Mark stood at his father's desk. The look on his face would brook no argument. He saw his father slowly sit, his mother standing at her husband's side. Both looking at Mark, pensively waiting for his words.
Mark had taken those precious minutes during the drive to formulate his plan. In the corner of his mind a crack had formed. A space where he could create a confident Mark, a man. In this space he had complete control, maturity and confidence. This part of him accessed all of the memories of the past few weeks, the events in the morgue, Plato's Retreat and the revelations of his parent's open marriage. Accessed all of that information but without emotion. Here he could formulate and execute without caring and without consideration. That part of him was ready to go.
"This is how its going to work. I will keep all of your dirty secrets. All of them. You keep your position in society and continue doing the depraved things that you do. In return I will never have to see your faces again. You will provide me with a generous allowance. More than enough for me to get a place of my own. You will pay for my education until its done. Your expectations of me stop here, today." The words, simple and complete fell out of his mouth with a staccato temple.
His father, shocked with his mouth agape, could only stare at his son. It was Cindra's time to take over.
"If you think what you saw today was enough for us to even entertain your demands, think again. I have no issue sharing this with your father." Cindra's confidence was crumbling fast but she was desperate to keep her son in her life, despite the risks.
That crack in his mind opened to a cavern. All of the years of neglect and control, the years he desperately wanted to feel love. The disgusting events of the Morgue. The bile rising in his throat at the hint of the memory. All of the things he witnessed in recent days. The rapes, the visions of his perfect parents destroyed. It was all crumpled to one emotion, one raw lightning bolt that ravaged that cavern and exploded in his mind.
He took two long determined strides to his father desk. His fist came crashing down on the surface, his face almost purple in rage. He looked like a completely different person. His normally perfectly combed hair slipped down in one gentle brown curl toward his arched eyebrow.
"I know! I know EVERYTHING! I followed you! It was me at the back of Plato's Retreat, ME! I know it was you, you disgusting pig of a mother! You! In the Morgue! I hope Father that your extra escapades aren't a depraved as MOTHERS. You 2 better PRAY I never come back here. I am DONE!"
He punctuated each line with a smash to the desk top, splitting his knuckles. He didn't feel any of it.
"You have exactly one day to get me what I demand. ONE DAY!" he turned and left them alone.
He needed to get control on himself. He walked down the hall and headed for the front door.
Outside he walked to the gardens. Here he got 'him' under control. Here Mark returned to himself. In the many hours he walked, he tucked all his pain inside that cavern. He learned to secure his mind, to separate the Mark of yesterday to the new young Mark, the mature one who will start a new life, today. He kept the other one close at hand. You never know when you will need that rage.
Cindra had to explain to Alistair about Marks comments of the Morgue. She simply told him that she was exploring a cadaver with CC when Mark walked in on her. Alistair believed her.
The Conners' bought Mark a small house close to the University, hired him a tutor so he could finish high school, a driver until he was old enough to drive the Audi that they bought him. They kept tabs on his progress over the years, but true to Marks word, he never returned to that house.
| Author Notes | this story captures even me, the writer. I get excited about what plot twists I want to include each chapter. As it pours out of me, I also feel somewhat released. |
By EILEEN LAW
"We have to be very careful how we handle this." Said Alistair.
"Yes, love. He is our son." She mused, "You know, he reminds me of you when we first met." Cindra's mind wandered briefly to the memory but she quickly had to tuck it away when she felt her body's response.
There was no way their son was going to get completely out of their lives. They just had to figure out how, when and where. Firstly, the driver they hired for him would of course be reporting back to them as to the whereabouts when Mark went anywhere.
When Mark was ready to leave the house, Alistair took him into his office for one last conversation.
"Son, we are doing as you asked. Please remember you are our son. We have loved and cared for you since birth. Yes, your mother and I have made mistakes but we tried to protect you from our outside activities and shelter you. We didn't know how poorly it would affect you. All I ask is that you consider coming around for holidays and special days. It would seem odd that our son isn't around for those things and you know how these things look to others." Alistair feigned affection; he didn't do it very well. It was obvious to Mark it was again all about appearances.
It was apparent to Mark that his father didn't know about the morgue incident or even the fact that Bo was black. He contemplated telling Alistair but thought better of it. He would comply to his fathers' wishes. But on his own schedule, he could leave whenever he wanted to. After all, you should always have at least one Ace up your sleeve.
The Conner's had already decided what they would say in society. Why their 15-year-old son was out of the house. When it came to the Dokken's they simply told them that Mark wasn't returning to his job at the funeral home because of his education. This was an important time. Mark being very intelligent he was going to graduate early and as a result he needed all of his time spent in study.
With time they would make sure that the people that would be around Mark would also be cultivated and introduced on a predetermined schedule. Marks teachers, his peers, sports groups etc. Offers and acceptances by the influence of Mr. and Mrs. Conners.
The house they purchased for Mark needed tending. The set up a careful schedule of groundskeepers and housekeeping. Once a month a maintenance person would come and fix anything that needed repair. Of course, all of these persons were hired by the Conners'. A careful team of retained professionals who knew who paid them and who to report to.
Alistair worked hard and created a political career. His confidence and serious nature made the public trust in him. He hired only the best to guide his new venture and they were paid accordingly. At the very next election Alistair was the new mayor. This of course had its perks. He had more influence on the cities people than ever before.
The Conners were buying businesses and investing in real estate. Their wealth was accumulating quickly and so was their influence. They opened a numbered company out of California to diversify some of their portfolio and in some ways to sequester some investments away from watchful eyes. They were able to purchase a hotel chain as well as a group of medical clinics under this numbered company. They made donations to certain universities and private schools. In effect the Conners bought respect.
An opportunity came to Cindra. A scholarship programme for foreign students. It seemed that a vacation to Argentina was in order. There were several students that were in queue for a scholarship and Cindra wanted to make sure that the student that received this boon would be 'close' to her son. She was gone 2 weeks.
Cindra met with several impressive young men and women. Some from middle- and higher-class neighborhoods. But one particular student caught her attention. Manuel Arellano. Manuel was from Villa Misria or The Miserable Village but the locals just called it The Village. It was rare for the poor of this area to ever get out. Opportunities were desperately needed and this boy was no exception. He clawed and scratched his way through school. He worked hard to help provide for his family and schooled in between. He graduated later than some students but he achieved in the top 1% of his class and his science teacher recommended him for a scholarship. Manuel wanted to go to medical school.
Cindra was definitely not comfortable while she carefully walked in Manuels' neighborhood. She brought along a driver and a personal protection group. It made her feel slightly safer and also made her feel important. After all she is Mrs. Conners from America.
She was escorted inside a tin roofed dirt floor one room shack. Sitting at the table were careworn parents and a bundle of children. Neither parent spoke English so one of her entourage translated.
Cindra would make sure this family was taken care of, their son Manuel would come to America and get his education fully sponsored by The Conners' Benefit Fund. The parents were offered a job through the hotel chain the Conners owned, that had several hotels located in Buenos Ares. The children that were still at home would attend private school, see doctors and no longer would have to work to help support the family. This was a godsend to the Arellano family. In exchange Cindra would take their eldest son.
In America, Manuel would befriend Mark, find things that he liked to do and join in. He would report back to the Conners on any activities that they needed to know about. He would influence Mark towards things that the Conners wanted. Manuel would have an apartment, a car, a generous allowance and a full education.
Soon enough Mark was accepted into university. He received letter after letter, curious how the one who offered a complete scholarship was the school right in Bozeman, Montana. Mark really wanted to attend an Ivy league school but somehow, he didn't get any acceptance letters to those schools. Mark just buckled down. He knew the sooner he finished his schooling the sooner he could be completely free of his parents.
On his first day at university, he met Manuel. It was a good thing they liked each other. Otherwise, this task set out by the Conners was going to be hard. They truly became best friends. Manuel was feeling guilty about reporting to the Conners but his hands were irrevocably tied. He could not risk having his family back home affected. So, he made his regular vigils to them to report on Marks life.
Mark kept parts of his life very personal. Particularly the company he kept. He dated in private and soon fell in love. She was a girl of difficult circumstance and Mark felt protective of her. She had a past that she struggled to get beyond. She was 16 years old when she got pregnant and had a secret illegal abortion. Mark knew and didn't hold it against her. She worked at a pub as a waitress but wanted more from life, but life just wasn't giving it to her. She was a stunning red head Irish girl with a temper to match. Whenever she lost her temper Mark found it amusing and he had a knack for calming her down. They usually ended up laughing about it later on in the day.
One day Mark introduced her to Manuel. Manuel took a liking to the girl as well. He understood how life's circumstances dictated your past and could influence your future. However, he had to report to the Connors. Two weeks later, she disappeared.
Mark was heartbroken and hyper focused on his studies. He worked harder than he ever had before in his life. He vowed that no woman ever again would hold his heart like that.
One night Mark and Manuel went out to a bar.
| Author Notes | Are we ever truly ever free? |
By EILEEN LAW
"What the fuck is the meaning of this!" Sargeant Hayes dropped a file on Terry's desk. His face was purple with rage as he pointed his fat ringed finger into her face. "You are supposed to be shadowing Anderson and not going rogue! You are wasting time and valuable resources redoing cases that are being handled by other officers in this precinct. We are supposed to be a team here, Smythe. Not a private Dick on the side!"
Terry was careful to not react to him. Her controlled countenance, her HR training and knowledge of the human rights rules helped her keep calm. Even despite the fact that the sergeant was breaking all of them.
Everyone in the precinct turned to look at them and there was a deafening silence in the room. Hell, even the phones didn't ring. Everyone was waiting to see how she would handle this.
"You told me to check all the files, put inside them any paperwork that is missing, to re-read psych reports and to bring my findings back to you. I was doing what you asked me to do." She knew she was doing way more, but she took the chance that he didn't know she went outside and engaged with witnesses.
"I told you to shadow Anderson. He says you haven't been at your desk the last couple times he came looking for you and you didn't answer your phone. Where were you?"
"If he missed me perhaps, I was in the bathroom putting on my lipstick." She couldn't help it. The bastard needed a lesson.
"I have had enough of your insubordination and lack of respect. Smythe, you are officially suspended. Leave your gun and badge and get out of my precinct!"
"Fine." She stood up, dropped her badge and gun on her desk. As Hayes turned around, she grabbed the file he had dropped, tucked it under her arm and walked out of the building.
Now, she really had to be careful. She definitely had an HR case and could fight to return to work, but if she did, would it really help her? Isn't it better to take her 'private time' and continue her investigations on her own? She had a bunch of evidence at her house. Buddy's laptop, Sandra's sweater, Olessia's credit card statement and not to forget that anytime now the cell phone reports should be coming in from Warren.
She could take this time and interview the witnesses she didn't get to yet, Jaz the logistics manager from JD consulting and Janine â€" the witness to the last fight between Joe and Yvette. Nancy Coleman â€" her snitch at the same office. Shannon Beadle the new love intertest of Frank Turner, Stefanie the niece of Yvette. Marlene at the bar where Sandra worked. Joe Garrison the bar flirt and permanent resident.
Perhaps the Stang's needed another visit. She hadn't interviewed the sister yet or anyone at the high school. So much to do and now she had the time. She put the car in gear and headed home. It's time to open the file and the laptop.
--------------------------------------------
Today was her day with Katie Girl. Good thing she was home early because there she was sitting on the front porch along with their father, waiting for Terry to get home.
"Hey dad, I think you're a bit early, aren't you?" Terry said as she unlocked the front door.
"I called the precinct and they said you were off early so I headed over." Joe replied.
'Why would he call the precinct and not me directly?' she thought to herself.
"Terry look, look at my pony." Katie girl said proudly showing the braided mane and tail of her plastic purple pony. This beautiful adult woman whose mind was still trapped in a little girl's. She was damaged and kept her innocence despite that horrible event of her childhood.
There were countless hours with psychiatrists, therapists and other doctors, all saying that Katie had no physical reason for her mental state. She has had every test and there is no evidence of brain damage. They all believe that one day, Katie may quickly mature and progress. For now, it's a waiting game.
At the front door Terry turned to escort her sister inside. Her father was headed back to his vehicle and waved as he walked away.
"See you Tangerine â€" I'll pick her up tomorrow after my doctor's appointment around 4ish". He climbed into his '72 Buick started the smoky engine, and rattled away.
Terry settled Katie girl playing in the living room while she sat down with the file. When she opened it, she found the report that set off Sargeant Hayes. The blue glove that she turned over came back and, in the report, it showed both DNA and a latent print on the inside. Neither had any links at either AFIS or CODIS, but it was a great start.
She had already set up an evidence board in her office, to this she added these 2 tidbits. Her wall was looking more like a haphazard macrame then crime board, but it would all soon make sense.
She then grabbed Sandra's sweater and checked the pockets. Nothing unusual, just a drug store receipt. She put that aside anyway. You never know. Then she opened Olessia's credit card statement.
'Well, I'll be damned', she thought to herself, 'if it isn't the exact bill that I needed'.
The statement started about a week before Olessia's disappearance and the purchases dropped off to no activity. With this she would be able to build a timeline of activities for the few days before Olessia had disappeared.
The last day of purchases has her buying gas, a purchase at a drug store and a drive through restaurant. After this, there are no purchases, nothing. It would be safe to assume this would be the last day that anyone would have seen her. Now Terry could go to these stores and see if they had surveillance footage. She can then find out if Olessia was alone on her last day.
Terry gets up from her desk and heads into the living room. Here she sees Katie girl, her back is to Terry and she seems to be struggling with something. Terry approaches her sister peers over her and sees Katie stabbing her pony with a pencil. Over and over, all the while she is mumbling.
"Pretty girl, Sandy, Pretty girl." Her face is twisted in rage and disgust.
By EILEEN LAW
They have gotten a new puppy that although he is adorable, he is a constant chase and clean. Mark brought him home one day, right after a fight about having more children. Mark thought this would keep Aliss distracted from baby talk for a little while. A golden lab, of course Aliss's favourite. Perfect timing, of course.
Mark is away for a few days and Aliss is alone. MAC is down for a nap. The puppy, they called Goldie, has just chewed up some more papers, from where, who knows but Aliss is chasing him down the stairs towards the gym. The puppy chooses this time to lift leg and pee all over Marks locked storage room door. Aliss chased the puppy away and went to wipe up the pee. As she wiped the door, it came open.
Mark must have forgotten to lock it last time he was in there.
Inside the room, nothing seemed unusual, but Aliss was curious enough to poke around. Cement floors, wooden shelves with boxes and mixed items lined the walls. It was windowless and dark so she turned on a light. At the back of the room was an old office desk and chair. A metal desk with an artificial looking wood mactac surface. On the desk is a lamp. It seems as if this was set up like it was in use.
Aliss's heart was pounding in her chest. What was she doing in here? Didn't she trust Mark? She came around the old desk and pulled out the chair. She pulled open the top centre drawer and found some pens, note pads, paper clips, stapler and other miscellaneous supplies. She looked down the right bank of drawers and pulled on them, locked. Why would this be locked? She looked back in the top desk drawer and found a letter opener. This she used to jimmy the bottom drawer open. She saw this maneuver once in a movie and lo and behold it actually worked!
With shaking fingers, she opened the drawer. Her head was pounding with the pressure, what if she gets caught? Inside the drawer she found files. The same type she saw at his office. She pulled one out and found it to be exactly that. A common looking doctor's file. Why was it here? Why not either at his office or upstairs in the den? She slipped it back in the drawer. In the next drawer she found a credit card statement and a folder with receipts. She didn't know that Mark had this credit card. She thought she had secondary cards on all of his accounts. She peeked through the receipts and noticed that they were from stores all over the state and some were even from Utah and Washington.
In the same drawer she saw a book on vascular therapy. Nothing unusual except why was it here? She felt nervous and excited in her adventure. And somehow a little nausea crept in as well. Aliss was careful to put everything back the way she found it. She examined the lock and pressed it down with the letter opener and pushed the drawer in. Luckily it worked. The lock caught. She hoped that Mark wouldn't notice the fresh scrapes in the metal close to where the lock was. That would be a dead give-away.
Aliss decided to look on the shelves a little more. The ones closest to the desk on the left had Christmas decorations on it and storage bins with clothes set aside for donation. She went around to the far left of the shelf along the wall. It was close to the shelf and just enough room to walk between that and the wall with little room to maneuver. She followed it to the end turned right and found herself close to the door. She then went along the wall to the other side of the room. This shelf went all the way to the end wall. There was a little more room on this side. This wall was shared by the wine cellar in the room next door. She followed this all the way down. When she got to the end she found a door in the wall. A door she didn't know was there. It too was locked. Where did this door go? It was somewhat hidden by the shelved and if you didn't look for it you may not know it was there.
On the shelves she found some sodium hypochlorite, hydrogen peroxide, sudsing bleach, hibiclens soap, betadine and zinc sulphate. All perfectly shelved with the labels facing out.
Outside, a black Audi pulls up. Mark steps out of the car. In his hand is a beautiful bouquet of brightly coloured flowers. He knows Aliss is upset with him. The flowers should smooth things over at least for a while. He is back a day early but he needs to take care of something out of town and has the unpleasant task of telling Aliss that he will be away again, this time for up to a week.
He chirps the lock on the car and uses his keys to open the front door. Downstairs Aliss hears the sound.
Aliss's heart jumps a beat and her whole body comes alive with energy, adrenaline and electricity. She felt like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She had to get out quickly before he catches her! She slips between the shelves and tries to quietly head to the open door.
"Aliss! I'm home early. Where are you?" Mark asks from the front foyer. He hears a bang from the downstairs and quickens his pace to the stairs. "Aliss, what is going on here?" He trudges down the carpeted stairs, around the corner to see Aliss.
She is kneeling at the closed door wiping up the last of the puppy's pee.
"What are you doing, Aliss?" Mark asks her.
"Oh, Goldie decided to pee all over down here. I am just cleaning it up. Puppies, you know." With that she stands and heads towards the laundry room and the sink to rinse out the rags. She prayed he didn't see her hands trembling while she did so.
Mark walks up behind her. "Why are you panting like you just came home from a run?" He asks her.
"I was chasing the puppy. She was running all over the house. In fact, I have no idea where she is even right now." Why is she so scared of the man she calls husband? She felt like her legs were going to give out. Hopefully he couldn't see the faint blush to her cheeks. Her telltale sign of lying that he knew all too well.
Mark seemed satisfied with her answer. He headed back up the stairs saying, "what's for dinner, hun?"
"I didn't know you would be home. I was going to order in for me and Mac." She slipped her hand into her pocket and took out the medical card. One issued to Sandra Jesperson. The one she found on the floor inside the storage room. She knew the name. Heck, everyone in Boseman knew that name. Why did Mark have her medical card and why in the secret office in the locked storage room in their basement?
| Author Notes | Aliss is trying a new career on for size. Maybe she should become a detective? |
By EILEEN LAW
Warren, is exceptionally tall at 6 foot 5 with wavy thick brown hair. He is handsome in an unkempt kind of way. His thick beard always needing a trim, his neck also. Most days he wears his thick brown rimmed glasses but on occasion contact lenses. When he is cleaned up, he has been told he looks somewhat like Ryan Renolds but is actually more Reynolds adjacent. But he runs with that as it gets him more girls than if he didn't.
He has a dry and somewhat awkward sense of humour, bordering on inappropriate and sometimes clear across the line. The punch line more important than the appropriateness of the situation. He is bright and his attention to detail in his job is very important to him. It's uncanny how well he grasps things at work. However, he is not as adept at picking up social ques. He's been in trouble a few times with HR about those blurred lines, however there is also a certain charm to him that makes it hard to stay mad at the guy. You almost want to comfort him as you dress him down.
He has been with the San Jose Police Department for over 10 years, specializing in IT media, cell phone data, and apophenia â€" the ability to see patterns in mundane and sometimes unrecognizable things.
Most of the S.J.P.D. put up with his personality both good and bad, because he is somewhat of a savant with this specialty. He can also reboot, repair and decrypt most devices. Some, where others cannot. He is a very valuable asset to the department.
Warren joined the team close to a year before Terry Smythe did. When he met her, he took a liking to her almost immediately. Everyone else at the department thought her too serious and severe in personality. She seemed bristly and closed off. He saw through all of that and saw deep inside her. Something happened to this woman that she keeps buried deep inside. He noticed that whenever she was upset, she would study harder, focus more and push herself to her own limits to achieve anything she set her mind to. She didn't fool him. He knew it was a coping mechanism.
Whenever he saw her firm pressed tight lips, he knew she was deeply focused, even when simply walking down a hallway. Her eyes would scan her surroundings while her mind is focused on whatever task she has at hand. He found her to be quite remarkable. Petite and short never stopper her and made her work even harder than most. She was strong and fit mentally and physically and she never shared with anyone anything personal about herself.
The very first day he saw her was in a briefing with the team. Everyone was given a task to do, a case he barely remembers today. As they all left the meeting, he grabbed her attention on the way out of the room.
"That Bonner's a real boner, isn't he?" He asked her.
"Sorry?" she said looking way up at him.
"Bonner the boner, we all say. A bit of a bruiser huh?" he looked into her green eyes and was lost. That's all it took.
"So, you're on the cell phone tack on this one, aren't you?" She brushed off his comment and asked him while they walked down the hall.
"Yuppers, that's me." He replied. "Wanna grab a beer and go over the file?"
"Let's just go over them in the interview room, ok?" She wasn't impressed with the barely hidden attempt at trying to take up some of her personal time.
"Uhm sure. You're new here. I've been here close to a year. They haven't let me out yet. I can give you the intel on the team, if you want. You know the lo down?"
"Listen uhm Warren, is it? I am not here to make friends, date or otherwise. I am here to get the job done. That's it. No beer on the weekends, no private cell phone time, nothing. Just work, get it?"
She found herself irritated but kept it out of her voice. She had no time for anything but getting the job done and done right. She had a goal, she wanted to make detective in record time and that didn't allow for anything extra.
Warren didn't let anything stop him from his goals either. He could see she needed a friend and he was going to be it. Whether she liked it or not.
"There's nothing wrong with being friendly, missy and that is exactly what I am doing. Getting to know the people you work with is also an asset. Knowing who you can and cannot count on, who has side specialties that are not in their employee files that can help with a case. Being friendly helps you out as well. If you don't loosen up, you won't make any friends around here, and you need them. Well, except for me of course. Like it or not, you have just made a friend." He smiled down at her.
She nodded at him, sighed and kept walking.
They made it to the interview room, plunked down their files and got to work. It wasn't long before Warren had impressed Terry with his skills. Within a few hours they had worked out the travel time line of the perpetrator of that case. When she had the file Warren had worked on, she was looking through his notes in the file. He was a doodler and his little doodles were all over the pages. Nonsensical doodads without rhyme or reason. Until, she looked at them as a whole. They actually created timelines of their own. He was definitely smarter that she thought.
With time and a lot of persistence he actually got her to open up, just a crack. He was the only one that even knew she had a sister, a handicapped one at that. A fact she shared when one of their many cases they worked on together, had a girl with similar disabilities.
At the interview with the girl, Terry showed incredible patience and a gentle hand. While talking to the girl, Terry's face had softened and she smiled. Warren was overwhelmed when he saw it. This is when his crush really started. After the interview, back in the squad car, he looked at her.
"It's incredible. I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it myself." He smiled at her.
"What are you talking about Warren. Was there something I missed?" Terry replied.
"Always on the job, hey? I meant your smile. It didn't even crack your face." He smiled at her.
To this she did allow a slight upturn of her mouth. Just a hint, but it was enough for him.
"Ah! Ah! Don't do it! We are in public! Someone might see! What will you do if they find out you're actually human?" He was full on teasing her now.
She let a slight little laugh escape and tilted her head down.
"Ok Warren, you done now? Can we go?" A little river of like is now running inside her heart. This man did have a way about him. He was able to get her to care. With time they grew to be quite good friends. And once, only once he tried to take her out on a date. But that dropped like a bomb. It almost risked their friendship but Terry forgave him.
When Terry left to join Boseman PD, Warren was somewhat devastated. He loved her in both a friendly way and deep inside like a man to a woman as well. He would never let her know that; the risk was too high.
When Terry called and asked him for the favour, there was no doubt he was going to do it. Never a moment's hesitation.
Now, with the report in hand, he had to call her. The cell phones and the records contained things that Terry needed to see, so he called her right away.
"Hey Warren, what did you find out?" Terry asked.
"Let me put it this way, Tangerine, I'm on the next plane to Boseman. We will be busy with this for a while. Don't try to stop me, I already booked time off. I'll be there on Wednesday, what's a good hotel there?"
She let the Tangerine slip. "No need, my house is big enough for us both. Give me your flight information and I'll pick you up."
After having spent so many years together at S.J.P.D. she knew if he wanted to come out to Bozeman, that it was big.
"I'll text you my deets."
And with that they both hung up.
| Author Notes | Warren is a special person to Terry, one that she really needs. |
By EILEEN LAW
Pound, pound, pound, one foot after another. Her long blonde ponytail swishes back and forth while her arms sway side to side. The gravel path in the city park is intermittently splattered with other joggers who ignore each other with headphones on and destinations in mind. The path goes around a small city lake an hour's jog from beginning to end. There are tall trees in the park that offer needed shade on hot days. It's so unusual to see such raw nature in the middle of a city. And it's a beautiful piece of land. Quite frequently families with small children are fishing the stocked lake.
She jogs the same path every day, same time, same pace and same route, rain or shine. Today its overcast and slightly cool, the perfect day for jogging.
He has watched her now for a few days. He knows the path and the places where she will be alone. He has jogged the path a few times himself, and has waved as he has passed her. Most of the time she has ignored him. Except for yesterday, she finally gave a quick, short wave back as he passed by.
Today, again they are both jogging the same path in the park he from one direction and her from the other.
Just as she comes around a large maple tree, she sees him on the ground clutching his leg. Dirt scuff marks are all over his left side and down one shin. There is a skid mark in the dirt behind him, it looks as if he tripped over a tree root that is partially blocking the path.
"Hey, are you alright?" She asks him as she slows down and reaches his side while pulling one ear bud out of her ear. She is wearing a pink tank top and pink stretch pants. On her feet perfectly white Nike runners.
"Ahh damn it! I know that tree is there. I have stepped over that stupid root enough times! What an idiot to have tripped on it today!" he groans as he clutches his shin.
"Oh my God, do you think you broke it or do can you stand up?" She asks with concern on her face.
He looks up at her partially through his now unkempt light brown hair. A tinge of recognition flits through her brain. He looks a little familiar, but where? It's like when you are introduced to a person at a party and never talk to them again. Just a hint of a memory.
"Ah, I think I just need a second." He is now in a sitting position on the ground with his injured leg outstretched in front of him. He reaches to his right and grabs a low hanging limb of a tree and uses that to pull himself up without lowering his injured right leg. His dark shorts and dirt smudged white t-shirt are stretched across a fit torso.
He tries to put down his leg and put some weight on it but it starts to buckle underneath him.
"Ahhh, shit. Well, I guess I will be hopping back to my car." He winces and leans over to grab his aching shin.
"Where did you park?" She asks him while walking closer to him.
"I got a spot over by the water shed. Its back over there on the path. It isn't far. Do you think you can help me back to my car?" He asks her. "By the way, I'm Joe." He adds.
"Uhm, well, why don't I just call the park ranger or something. It looks like you may need an ambulance. You probably shouldn't walk on it like that."
"Nah, it's probably just a sprain. With a little help I can make it to my car and take myself to emerge." He said smiling at her pretty face.
At that moment another jogger came around the corner, a young man. He almost stopped but Joe turned his face and made it look like they were just 2 people having a conversation. He was standing straight with his hand on the tree.
Joe waited for the jogger to disappear around the corner and then he tried to weight bear again. He almost went down on the ground a second time, but she came to his side and propped him up.
"Are you sure you don't want me to go get some help? It looks like you need it." She looked at him with her pretty blue eyes.
"It's okay. I'll try to hop my way back to my car. You go on with your jog." He replied with a hint of irritation in his voice.
She turned to look up and down the path to where the trail curved around edges and out of sight.
"Uhm ok, if it's not too far, I guess I can help you." She said, her compassion for others overtaking her sensibility.
She came up to his side and took his arm around her shoulder. He was a few inches taller than her and she tucked under his arm almost perfectly.
"Ok, thanks it's back the way I came. About a hundred yards back there is a narrow path to the right. That will take us to my car. The path is hard to see but I'll show you where it is." He leaned into her just enough and hopped on his injured leg.
It was a struggle but after only 5 minutes they came to the clearing where is lone car was parked.
"Oh man, thank you so much. You're a lifesaver." He said to her.
"Alisande" She said, "its French."
They approached the driver's side of the car, where he opened the door. He leaned in and in the car's door pocket he grabbed a small pistol. He quickly turned towards her and scowled. He walked perfectly, nothing wrong with his leg.
"Not a good day for you Alisande. Get in the car." He ordered her, his heart pumping with adrenaline and excitement. The pistol in his hand was pointed at her face as he opened the back door of the car.
She instantly backed up, her hands in front of her. She was terrified and was looking around for an escape route. Many were there, but were any safe enough for her to get away without a bullet in her back? Not apparently.
"No, please No." She pleaded instant tears slipping from her eyes.
"Shut up. You had better stop moving or this bullet will destroy that pretty face of yours. Now, listen, I am only going to rape you and then let you go but you have to get in the car or I won't be able to keep that promise." His handsome face now looked like an ugly demon to her.
She suddenly turned and started running towards the brush. He didn't miss a beat and with two long strides he was quick to grab her by her flying ponytail. The abrupt stop yanking her head back and sent her towards the ground. He then twisted around and sat upon her torso, his hand on her mouth.
"I told you not to run. You don't listen very well, do you?" He kept his voice strained but low, his spittle dripping on her face.
His was face red, his veins were popping as he leaned so close to her face she felt his hot breath on her. His hand was pressing into her mouth so hard she could taste blood from her teeth biting into the inside of her lips. His knees were pinning her arms to the ground.
Terror, liquid cold running terror was gushing through her chest. Her heart pounding so hard it was pushing at her ribs. She doesn't even realize she has been flailing her legs and creating half a snow angel in the dirt.
He got up and dragged her by her ponytail. She managed to get to a crouched position and was half crawling and half dragged to the car. He roughly grabbed her and shoved her toward the back seat. On the rear dash was a rag, primed and ready to go. He threw the gun to the front seat and in his hand, he replaced it with the chloroform-soaked rag. He pushed this into her face and waited the few seconds for the drug to take effect. After only a few moments her flailing settled and she slumped over, half inside and half outside of the back of the car.
He walked to the trunk of the car, inside there were zip ties, duct tape and an old worn blanket.
He secured her, taped her mouth shut and laid her on her stomach across the backseat. The blanket was on top of her. He had a bit of a drive ahead of him and it was likely she would wake up on that drive. So, he put the seatbelt around her and through her tied arms. It would be very difficult to free herself from this position.
He closed the car door and looked around at the ground. He re-dispersed foliage to cover most of the evidence of struggles. He looked around for any objects he may have inadvertently left behind. He found one piece of zap strap that he tossed inside his car. Satisfied, he started the car and left.
What he didn't notice, was, back on the path, where they first encountered each other was one small white earbud and on it painted in bright pink nail polish were 2 initials. It was laying on the ground next to the tree.
| Author Notes | This killer gets bolder all the time. |
By EILEEN LAW
Screech, thud, bump, bump. The airplane lands at Boseman Yellowstone International. Warren is both excited that he will see Terry again and also relieved that this turbulence laden flight is over with. He reaches above his seat and grabs his back pack and slugs it over his shoulder. On the other shoulder is his laptop bag. Soon enough he is at baggage claim, he grabs his suitcase and plops it down on his luggage cart along with his backpack and computer bag. As he heads towards the exit, he sees Terry quietly waiting for him, she is standing next to the exit.
He gets close to her and grabs her into a tight bear hug. He doesn't care that she doesn't like PDA, he does it anyway. She barely pats his back and says, "Ok, Ok Warren enough of that, let's go." Secretly she not only tolerates his affections but has come to like them. With a grain of salt.
They pack his things into her plain sedan and set off towards her home.
"Well, Terry, tell me about it? How's things in buttcrack nowhere Montana?" He smiles at her.
"Eloquent as always, Warren. It seems sleepy Bozeman isn't as peaceful as I thought. I have some things to go over with you, but let's get to the house first." She is anxious to get into the case but in her usual organized way, she wants to lay out her evidence as she speaks.
They hit a coffee house drive through for a small snack and a coffee each to go. Within a few minutes they arrive at Terry's house. A 2-story bungalow, dark gray with a garage to the left and door to the right. The right side has a porch with just enough room for 2 chairs and a small table. Across the street is a field of grass. Maybe it was a farm at one time, now it's just grass.
They walk inside and Warren plunks his things down on the floor next to the closet. He keeps his computer bag in his hand and follows Terry into the back office. He can see neatly stacked and organized paperwork at the ready. On the wall is a very busy evidence board. Lots of coloured strings connecting different pieces of notepaper and a couple of photographs.
Terry sits down at the desk, obviously ready to work.
"I've been looking into a few disappearances here in town. The general consensus is that they are not connected, but my gut tells me at least 3 of them are. We have 3 women and one teen boy. All missing from different places and times. I have their files here." Terry says to Warren and he seats himself next to her.
Terry takes the time to share with him, the copies of the files, the scene investigation and her talks with some of the friends and families of the missing people. She was counting on Warren to see some pattern in the cases. She wasn't sure there was, but there had to be something. She brings out the sweater, the receipt and the credit card statement.
Several coffees later Warren gets up from the table.
"What do we have here?" he muses, "There is no obvious relation between these people, they are different ages, different ethnicities and in one case different genders. Let me get into this kid's laptop and see if we find anything in that."
It was like a genie from a lamp and voila the laptop was on and the password was decrypted.
Without a word to him Warren says, "I usually get a little intel on the owner of a laptop and from that I can figure out most passwords. If I can't, then I do have a de-encrypter I can use. This kid's was easy. You told me he was a loner, he liked gaming and that recently he revealed that he thought he was transgender. So, I took that information and figured out the password could be Coagula. First try! Whoot whoot! I am a freaking genius!" he did a little victory dance behind the desk and ended it with an awkward twerk.
Terry snickered a little but then added, "ok Warren. Thanks for the show. Now what's in the computer?"
Warren poked around for a few minutes and found a Diarium journal. In the entries he found a particularly interesting entry. He motioned Terry to join him and they read,
'That creepy guy was in the park again. Calls himself Joe. Joe the birdwatcher. The guy says he can hook me up with stuff. Offered to take me to Bridercare. What the fuck? Who does he think he is? Anyway, I'll think about it, it's not like my mom or dad will take me. Might as well gets some fliers or something.'
This was the second entry about a Joe, the first was a note about a man in the park but not much else. Further along, a few days before Buddy went missing was this entry,
'Joe gave me a beer today â€" it was warm and I didn't really like it but at least I can say I've had one. He says maybe next time I can have an energy drink. I didn't want to tell him I get some without telling my parents anyway, but what the hell. Give the old guy a thrill.'
"Can you check his search engines? See what's in there?" Terry asked him.
"Already did. Mostly teen stuff â€" some Hentai and Manga. But he did check out Bridercare. Seems this is an open free clinic that offers birth control, STD testing and will give out information on transgenderism."
Terry made some notes and added to the diorama. They both worked hard over the next few days. One afternoon Terry stepped out to get some take out and when she came back, Warren had some ideas to share.
"Check this out. Olessia's credit card statement shows she went to East Main Medical Clinic. And here, according to Buddy's journal he also went there. Sandra Jesperson's receipt for her prescription, it was written from the same medical clinic. Yvette Turner â€" her cell phone records had a call to the same place. See a pattern here? We need to get to that clinic and see what is going on there. That is what I wanted to tell you when I called. Check this out. The crushed phone you gave me? Well, the Sim card was intact. I was able to pull a few pictures out of it. One in a park and in the background....a man sitting at a park bench. Around his neck, you guessed it! Binoculars!"
| Author Notes | Sometimes the littlest things can connect people. |
By EILEEN LAW
Aliss can't sleep. She kept going over and over in her mind the things she found in the basement.
What reason would Mark have for this secret office, and why lock it away from her?
She also found herself thinking about her parents and how they kept secrets from each other. Her father was continuously in one affair after another and mom, well, she hid her pain with pills and bottles. Most of which Dad ignored. Her Dad was a successful dentist so Aliss didn't need for material things in her childhood but she definitely suffered for a loving parent.
Aliss was an average student, not popular and rather plain. She didn't do well in sports and seemed to continuously disappoint her parents. Her mother a former beauty queen, wanted Aliss to follow in her footsteps. Mom focused was always on make-up, fashion and the latest trends.
When Aliss made friends with Janice, that made mom very happy. Janice was more like her mom than Aliss was anyway. Aliss would share her fashion clothes and make up with Janice as she didn't really like it all anyway. Aliss mostly tolerated it, but when she was finally out on her own, she didn't wear the make-up and stopped regularly going to salons. Aliss was not a material girl.
She still wondered at how she ever met and married her handsome, successful and fashionable husband. He also enjoyed the finer things in life and was continuously encouraging Aliss to do so as well. When she and Mark were dating, she brought Mark to meet her parents. They were overjoyed at meeting him, and as far as they were concerned, he could do no wrong. Mark's parent's position in 'high society' thrilled them as well. Mark's father, Alistair now being Governor and his wife Cindra head of Family Outreach were good people to know.
As she mused her circumstances, she came back to working out what her husband was up to. She was going to look around some more, and try to find out what was behind that little door in the back corner of the storage room. Were there more secrets she didn't know about? A small part of Aliss was thrilled at this adventure. She only prayed it wasn't anything bad.
When Mark left for the office, Aliss called Janice and asked her to take Mac out for the day. She told Janice she had a salon appointment. Janice was thrilled for both the opportunity to spend the day with her God son and also that Aliss was finally spending a little time pampering herself. So, Janice readily agreed. Aliss did indeed have an appointment for a haircut but she allowed herself just enough time to explore more downstairs before she would have to leave.
The moment she shut the front door, finally alone, she headed for the stairs. When she reached the storage room door, it was locked. Aliss had found some keys in her husbands' nightstand a few days earlier and took a chance that the key may be on that ring. There were several keys that Aliss had no idea about or what they even fit. She tried a few and finally one, slipped easily into the lock. She entered the room, flipped on the light and closed the door behind her.
She made her way to the desk. Inside the drawers she again found medical files. Some were unknown patients and again she found Sandra Jesperson's file and a few others. Strangely enough, all of these files were for women. She took the files out and put them on top of the desk. She went through the other drawers and here she found her husband's daily planner. It was full of notations about his appointments. Aliss didn't know much about his normal schedule, so most of the entries seemed pretty routine. She put the planner on the desk on top of the files. She thought that the daily planner was a little odd because most of his appointments were kept by his office and all on a scheduling programme. Why the written schedule? She continued her search and when she reached the bottom drawer, she pushed aside some empty file folders and found at the back of that drawer, behind the separator, a small box. She took this out. It was barely bigger than a double deck of cards and twice a deep. It was ornately carved wood and it had a key hole in the front. Aliss tried to open it but it too was locked. None of the keys on the key ring were the right size to fit in its tiny hole.
She wasn't going to be able to do much with that box at this time, later she would see if she could find another key. A much smaller one, so she returned the box to the partially hidden section at the back of the drawer.
Aliss was feeling nervous at being in the room so long. She decided to take the files and the planner. She would find a place to make copies, and then later on slip them back inside the drawer. If she hurried, she could get it all done before her husband came home.
Aliss found a canvass shopping bag upstairs, slipped her cache inside it, grabbed her purse and keys and headed out the door.
Aliss had less than 4 hours to get this stuff copied and get to the salon and back home again in time to return the files and get dinner on the stove. It was tight but she was going to do it.
----------------------------------------------
"Hey Aliss, we haven't seen you here since you left on Maternity leave. What brings you by? Are you planning on coming back?" Said Stacy the receptionist at Aliss's old accounting job.
"My husband asked me to get these files to him and he wanted me to make copies for the clinic. I was hoping to use the copier here, it's closer to the salon and will save me some time. If I don't get this done, he will be pissed, because I promised him. You know men. He'll make me pay by wearing some stupid maid outfit or something like that." Aliss said winking at Stacey.
I'll just pop in the back and take care of it, you're a peach." Said Aliss as she let herself into the copier room. She didn't wait for an answer.
She needed to be very careful to remember the order of the forms, tests and doctor's notes inside the files. They had to go back exactly as she left them. She was also in a rush and worried about getting caught. She worked as carefully and quickly as she could.
'Darn machine', she thought, 'print faster'. Her hands and fingers were shaking as she completed her job, her heart was pounding and she could feel sweat pooling under her arms. When she was almost done, she heard a voice at her back.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" A deep masculine voice shouted at her back.
Aliss whipped around so quickly the files emptied some of their contents all over the floor.
"Aliss, I was only kidding, take it easy." Said her old boss, Don. He crossed he floor and started helping Aliss pick up papers that were scattered all over the place.
"Shit Don, you scared the hell out of me." Said Aliss as she also scrambled to pick up papers. Soon enough they were all tucked inside her bag along with the photocopies.
"We've missed you around here. Did you change your mind and decide to come back?" Don said to her.
What Aliss didn't know was that her boss had a crush on her for years, but never voiced it to her. He was hoping that she would come back. Truth be known he wished she would ditch her rich, successful and handsome husband as well.
"Donny, I really want to, but MAC is still young. When he is a little more independent, if you still need me, I'd love to come back." She was genuine in her answer.
"Well, how old is the little tyke right now? 5 or 6?" Don said with hope in his eyes.
"He's 7 and a half" She wanted to change the subject, "Have you gone and changed all the programmes here? Cause if you did, I will need some training." She smiled at Don.
It seems she may have had an inkling of an idea about his crush. But in her brain, all she wanted to do was run. Get out quickly, get to the salon and rush through her appointment. She needed extra time to get the papers sorted out before Mark got home later.
"Don't worry Aliss. I can teach you anything you need to know. Your job will be here waiting for you whenever you want to come back. Come by and use the copier or whatever you need anytime." Said Don with hope in his heart. Don was average in all ways. He was 5 ft 8, with a shaved head, slightly stocky and generally plain. Except for his eyes. They were striking and ice blue with long eyelashes. Of the women who took the time to look, he usually scored. He knew that and worked it.
"Thanks, Don. Gotta run," Said Aliss as she scooted past him, "let's get coffee sometime, and catch up."
With that she quickly got into her car and headed for the salon. They were more than accommodating and quaffed her in a rush. Aliss was driving home when she decided to give Mark a call.
"Hey hun, what's up? I'm with a patient right now, is it important or can I call you back?" Mark said.
"I was wondering if you knew when you were going to be home. I would like to surprise you with something and I need to know how much time I have." Said Aliss thinking quickly.
"A surprise...I like that. I have one more patient to see and then I have to make notes in my charts. So probably 2 more hours, I guess." He was intrigued and a little excited. This was not usual for his wife to plan surprises. Most of the time he didn't like them, because he preferred his life regimented and routine. Somehow, this time he was just excited.
"Perfect. See you soon." Aliss worked hard a keeping her tone light and a little playful. This way Mark wouldn't suspect her of doing anything. She then called Janice and asked her to keep MAC for a few more hours. She was planning a special night with Mark. Janice was both excited and curious but happily agreed.
Now she had time to organize the files, return them to the desk and figure out what she was going to do to excite her husband. So, like any practical woman, she googled it.
She got home and went straight down to the makeshift office. Carefully she went through each file and attempted to put everything back in its place. She prayed it was correct. She slipped it all back in the desk. Then she decided to try the little door at the end of one of the shelving units. Of course it was locked. She checked the keys in her hand and tried them all. None seemed to work.
She found a Christmas decoration box on the shelves and slipped the file copies inside that box and pushed it towards the back of the shelf.
An hour later, Mark came home to his wife, cooking in the kitchen wearing only an apron and a smile. Now this was the kind of surprise he really liked.
| Author Notes | I watch crime stories all the time - so I wrote my own. |
By EILEEN LAW
"Hey Anderson. Get down to Tynehead Park. There is another missing person. This one was last seen jogging in the park. Bring Jensen with you, Smythe is on leave." Hayes barked at Anderson.
"You got it, Sarge." Said Anderson. Truth be known he was a little nervous without Smythe. She had insights and a very keen eye. After conferring with Jensen, he headed for the Police SUV opting to take separate vehicles.
Terry's phone rang, surprising her that Anderson would call at all, considering their strained relationship.
"Smythe" Terry said.
"Hey. I heard you were on an involuntary vacation." Said Anderson, not really knowing how to start the conversation.
"Yup, what do you want?" Said Terry perfunctorily.
"Hayes sent me down to another missing person site. I was wondering if you could give me some tips. I def don't want to piss Hayes off by missing some shit at the scene and you always spotted stuff I didn't." He was hoping that she would just help out, without pointing out how he didn't back her up with Hayes before.
"You really have some nerve calling and asking me for anything after what you did. Or didn't do for me, Anderson. Tell me why I should help you at all?" She was pissed off, but also dead curious about this new missing person. She needed to figure out an angle that would get her some information about the missing person, whom she surmised would probably be another woman.
"Yeah, I know you're right. I felt really shitty about it. I went to Hayes after you left and I tried to straighten this out, but Hayes wouldn't listen to a damn word I was saying. He seemed relieved that you were off, for a while at least. What's up with him anyway? He sure has a bone in for you and not in a good way."
Anderson may have been a poor scene investigator and had very little eye for detail but he wasn't a liar and did try his best. He had a good moral compass, although he needed bigger balls to handle the Seargent.
"All right Anderson. I'll give you some tips. Tell me about the case, who is missing and how long has she been gone?" Terry said, notepad in hand.
It didn't even register to Anderson that Terry already surmised that the victim was a woman. He freely gave her as much information as he had and continued to talk to her until he reached the scene.
"When you are all wrapped up call me and I'll let you know if I think of anything else," said Terry. She intentionally left a few things out. She was going to check the scene out herself as soon as Anderson and the rest of the BPD left the area..
Anderson and his team of investigators poked around the forest and found nothing out of the ordinary. It never crossed his mind to call the park ranger. Terry, of course, would.
Warren decided to tag along with Terry. Two sets of eyes being better than one. The two of them had donned jogging clothes along with sweatbands, sunglasses and earbuds. Looking the exact part of common joggers, with one exception. They were going to take the routes around the park in opposite directions. Hopefully they would get through it faster and more efficiently. It took the better part of an hour to meet in the middle. Neither one noticing anything other than a park. Terry thought she would continue on the route that Warren had just completed and scan more thoroughly.
Soon, they both reached the area where the root was sticking out of the ground. The exact spot where yesterday's jogger had tripped. Terry notices the rub marks from the running shoe and what looked like a disturbance on the ground.
"Warren, come see this", Said Terry with a serious look on her face. "See here, it looks like someone tripped over the root."
"Yea I saw that too, but people trip all the time, it didn't seem important enough to investigate further." Warren replied still panting from running and leaning forward with his hands on his knees. Terry barely looked like she had run at all.
"But look here," she said pointing. "When people trip, the skid mark is after a root, not before. This looks like someone just dragged the tip of their shoe on the ground. To make it look like a skid but it's just not looking right to me." She took out her phone and started taking pictures of the area. Warren scoured around looking for anything, anything at all.
Jus then, half under a leaf, something white. He bent over and gently pushed the leaf aside.
"Terry, come check this out. It looks like an earbud." Warren said, hardly able to keep the excitement out of his voice.
"Good eye, Warren." Terry said. She bent over and took several photos before reaching into her pocket to take out a pair of gloves and an evidence bag. "Look here, it looks like initials are painted on them in pink nail polish. It that an A? A....Z maybe?"
"Yes, I'd say that's right" Warren said, this time with a little pride in his voice. After all credit where credit is due.
Terry quickly tucked her little prize inside her pocket just as an elderly couple and their small dog came around the corner. Warren and Terry acted as though they were just taking a break from a run.
"Afternoon," Warren said to the couple as they continued past them and around the bend.
"Let's head back this way," said Terry pointing in the direction that Warren had just come from.
Now both were closely scanning the ground looking for other discarded items. Soon they came to the barely seen path that led to the watershed. Terry had noticed the occasional but regularly patterned scuff in the dirt. She was following a trail and it let straight up that path. In silence the both walked up that path as well.
In the clearing next to the water shed they stopped.
"Terry, look here. It seems like there was a car here recently. Look at the dirt tracks." Warren now thinks he is some kind of sleuth after his discovery on the path earlier and adds, "these tires aren't that common. They are bias tires. These haven't been used in cars in many years."
"Good catch but still could be a maintenance vehicle. We can call the ranger later and confirm, but for now, take some pictures of the tire treads for me." Terry said while still scanning the area.
Warren, after finishing taking the pictures, turned to look at his temporary partner just in time to see her plucking an item from the ground. It was something small and black that she plunked inside a new evidence bag and put into her pocket as well.
"Ok, I think we are done here," Said Terry, "let's head back to my place and see if we can get a hold of the park ranger."
"What do you think happened here?" Warren asked her.
"I would say that the perp faked a trip on the root, convinced some poor woman to help him over here, where he had his car. If you look carefully, you can see evidence of a struggle. The perp scattered leaves back over the smudge marks, but I see them. Look here, and here." She said as she pointed to the ground. She brushed some leaves aside and underneath was a clear large mark in the ground. "Somehow, he got her into his car, and left with her. Now we need to know where he took her" she said.
Warren was duly impressed with her keen eye. She was incredible. Any police department was lucky to have her and needed to use her abilities. He was going to pry a little more later, and find out why she was underutilized and put on leave.
| Author Notes | Anderson reaches out - or was he setting her up? |
By EILEEN LAW
He couldn't quite figure out why, even to himself, but he decided to take her alive and somewhat well, all the way to the cabin. He heard her cries and struggles in the back seat but it didn't register to him, except on an almost melodical scale. It actually made him hum along.
He made a quick stop behind a garage, just to give her a sniff of chloroform so he could keep her motionless and quiet. He checked to make sure that her still form was concealed under the blanket and garbage in the backseat.
He then pulled up to the pumps to get some fuel. He entered the gas station, grabbed some snacks, coffee and plunked them all down on the counter.
"Afternoon sir, just this or do you need some gas too?" asked the robust and overweight 30-something man behind the counter.
"Give me fifty bucks worth." he replied.
"And your membership card, sir? For the gas discount?" the teller asked him. "If you use your card, the coffee is free."
"I don't have a membership," he replied.
"Ah its easy, just give me your phone number and email and I can enter it right here and be done. With every new membership you get 5 cents off a gallon."
It seemed easy enough so he decided to go ahead, and was soon out of the store with his free coffee and new membership.
After a few minutes he was on the road again. What he didn't know was that the cashier was watching the CCTV monitor and had noticed movement in the backseat of that old brown Oldsmobile.
After fueling up, he jumped into the driver seat and was soon back on the highway. Two hours later, he veered of the highway and onto a dirt road in the brush. Winding around between tall old growth trees, bumping through potholes and debris, he worked his way to the almost hidden roadway to the cabin and stopped the car.
It was a bit of a struggle but he eventually got the girl into the cabin and secured her to an old chair close to the window and the sink. She was tough even with chloroform in her system.
Once inside, he stopped. He took a moment and slipped his brain over to the river in his mind. Deep into the cavern where 'he' lived. The part of him that he had earlier today, only touched on in order to get her here. Now he had to dive deep. After only a few seconds 'he' was there. His gait changed, his breathing deepened and his pupils expanded. A strange eerie calm waved over his face, making his facial muscles go slack. His eyes were completely devoid of emotion. He turned to the window and started the music. The same music he always used; "oh Sandy."
From the bag he always had with him, he took out his knives, put them neatly in a row on the table. They were sharp and clean. He reached to a shelf and took down a large blue tarp. This he opened up and put on the floor.
In the chair the young woman woke and then started struggling. She tried to cry out against the scarf that now covered her mouth. The chair wobbled with her efforts, but he didn't even care, he didn't really notice because it didn't matter.
He knew he wanted her alive, but he needed her subdued, controlled and weaker. He turned and grabbed a hammer that was on the counter, approached her and struck her head hard, in the exact spot that would debilitate her but still keep her almost awake. She slumped down, then slinked down in the chair.
He returned to the table and took one of the knives that were there, turned, cut her free and then dragged her to the centre of the tarp. Here he started cutting her clothes off. The thin pink material split apart easily and soon she was naked on the floor. Her hair was matted with blood from the wound in her head, wet and shiny and now a part of the scene. The sight created an emotion in him. The emotion was adoration.
He removed the scarf from her mouth, leaned forward and kissed her. A gentle closed-mouth kiss to her lips. To this she turned her head to the side, moaning. She started to move her legs in an attempt to struggle. The fog in her head creating confusion amongst the pain, she tried to swim her way to consciousness but couldn't get there.
He took his time, little nicks on her skin, here and there, enough to make her bleed, but not quickly. Her cries, a cross between a moan and a kitten's mew, added to the cadence of the music in the room. He wanted to prolong the experience. She was still alive, but only barely. He then took the scarf and again, wound it around her throat, he straddled her chest. He leaned forward and put his lips to her ear while he pulled, tight.
"Ssshh... Sandra, it's ok. Just go to sleep." He whispered the sweet sound to her.
He was smart, he knew when to stop. Just moments before life would leave her, just then. She was fully unconscious and barely alive.
Now to his favorite part. He rose and went back to the table. Here was his largest and sharpest knife. He returned with this and kneeled beside her. He dipped the tip inside her just above the right hip. Pulling across, he cut her from hip to hip. She was moments from dying. He slipped his hand inside the wound and wriggled his fingers through her warm wet intestines. He pulled some out and marveled at the beautiful color of red. The feel, the color, the smell of old iron. It all moved him. He was falling in love, yet again.
Her life drained from her at that moment. He stood over her and admired her. He saw the love he gave her and now it is time to share in that pleasure. He drops his pants and tugs on himself. In seconds his ejaculate was all over her. He leaned down and spread the fluid all over her face. He kissed her deeply, tasted the iron of the blood and the sea water salty taste of his cum.
He stands, "Oh Sandy, what a mess we have made." Time to clean up. The routine is ingrained into him. The process so familiar that he can allow his mind to wander while he works, the whole time his favourite song playing over and over in the background. He replays all of his escapades through his mind. One by one, each offering a different and special feeling for him. Each one special. To him, this is his record of the loves of his life.
When he reaches the old well, he takes the time to notice that the packages are getting higher in the well. Not enough to worry about now, but soon enough he may need a new place to put his former lovers. It is now something else to plan for.
He knows his pace is increasing, the need for more always pressing on the inside of his mind. Sometimes even over to the other one. Planning, scheduling and hiding were the parts of his life that he despised. But he knows it was always worth it.
Soon enough he is cleaned up. But he is tired and needs rest. So, he thinks he will take a rest this time, before tackling the highway again. He will need to make more excuses when he gets back, but that is the way of things, after all.
| Author Notes | This is a gruesome murder = reader beware! |
By EILEEN LAW
"Hey Mark, what about dinner on Wednesday? The wife and I have some news to share." Said Manuel to Mark.
"Uhm Wednesday should work, where are you thinking? Montana's or Revelry?" Mark replied.
"Montana's â€" they have bigger tables. Say 7?"
"I'll have to confirm with Aliss but that should be great. See you then." Mark wondered what the special announcement would be.
Manuel had been Marks' best friend since university. They had many common interests and both were successful physicians. Mark was currently head of emergency medicine at Bozeman Deaconess and Manuel had a private practice, family medicine. They both met their wives on the same night. How similar were the husbands but how different were their wives. Janice loved the finer things, including expensive designer clothes, the best in upscale furnishings and of course cars. She spent fortunes on beauty products and even dabbled a little in cosmetic surgery. Her wedding ring had been replaced several times with bigger and more diamonds. She could be found in a spa or salon at least twice a week. She had a personal trainer and the latest in sports equipment inside their expansive home. Mark puzzled a little at the extravagance considering that family physicians didn't make as much as their lifestyle seemed to support. But whatever, it wasn't Marks biggest concern. Mark did wish that Aliss enjoyed some of the finer things but she was simpler, Magicuts was good enough for her. The treadmill and walks in the community were her exercise and she was able to maintain her figure, however it remained around 30 lbs over the ideal. She had a 10-year-old car and refused to replace it saying, 'it works just fine, don't waste your money'. Only when Mark 'surprised' her with gifts did she replace anything. She still had her simple wedding band and rarely wore the pretty diamond engagement ring Mark presented to her on their engagement. She didn't want to ruin it or loose it so she kept it in her jewelry box for safe keeping, only taking out on special occasions. She would say, 'my life is rich with the love of friends and family, that is all I need'. Mark loved his wife in a comfortable reliable way. He gave up on a passionate love when his heart was broken by a red-headed beauty of his past.
That Wednesday the 5 of them took a seat and ordered food and drinks. Mac of course came along to dinner. After a few minutes Aliss was too excited to find out what the big news was.
"Ok that's enough, tell us what the big news is!" Said Aliss with excitement.
"I'll let Manuel tell you." said Janice. She was beautifully and tastefully dressed with simple but expensive jewelry on. She was lightly tanned and her skin was a perfect peach without a mark or line in sight. Aliss on the other hand was simply dressed and wore only her plain gold wedding band around her finger. Mark was more like Janice and Manuel mirrored Aliss. Funny how life can put people together like that.
"Well, I am opening a chain of medical clinics. And I want you to be a part of it." Said Manuel with a smile on his face.
Aliss could see something wasn't quite right with his smile. It seemed a little forced and not as natural as usual. She shrugged it off as nerves.
"What?" Said Mark with genuine shock, "I didn't know you were doing that well. How did this happen?"
Janice piped in, "He has a wealthy backer who is going to put up the money for the first few clinics. When they start to generate a return, then they get paid back and voila! We are on our own! Isn't that great? Arellano Medical Clinics! The first two will be here in Bozeman!"
"Really? Wow Manuel that's incredible. Who are these investors? Anyone I would know?" Mark asked.
"Nah, just rich patients who wanted to help." Manual brushed off the question as quickly as he could and then turned to give attention to Mac, his godson, for a moment, using the distraction to change the subject.
To Aliss everything seemed just a little off, she couldn't put her finger on it, but it was like they all had a secret together and she was the only one not in on it. It was almost like this dinner was planned to finally let her know the secret. Perhaps this has something to do with the desk in the basement? Maybe? Or maybe she was just grasping at straws.
The rest of the night they talked about the logistics of the clinics. No one pushed further on the 'wealthy backer' that Manuel mentioned. It's a good thing, because Mark wouldn't like who they were.
Manuel asked Mark to help with the treatment rooms, as a consultant to make sure they would all be set up with the best and the latest equipment that money could buy. They would be mini emergency rooms. Mark would be compensated and was offered management of the Bozeman clinics, to which he declined. It was his turn for news. He shared that he was going to study some more and wanted to be the county coroner at the end. Everyone, of course was supportive. Mark still thought he could help with the clinics on a part time basis, but as they were still in construction, there was plenty of time.
Janice had news as well, she had finally decided to join the mom group. She wasn't going to have a baby but she had found the perfect surrogate and they were working on baby number one. Janice was capable of bearing a child but didn't want to risk ruining her figure so she decided to use a surrogate. It would be their genetic child but it would be grown in a rented womb, her words of course. Aliss was supportive and excited to become an aunt. It would never cross her mind to think less of her best friend for the choices she would make.
At the end of the evening, Aliss spent some time thinking about what was shared. She couldn't shake the feeling deep inside that things just weren't like they appeared to be.
| Author Notes | An attempt at writing that I find I am enjoying! |
By EILEEN LAW
Numbered companies were the best hiding place. Although the directors and owners' names could be searched, if they were a subsidiary of another conglomerate and registered enough times, they were difficult to uncover.
Cindra was very pleased with herself. She had just spent another successful day with Janice, wife of Manuel. She and Janice were similar in so many ways and as time moved on, more and more so.
When they first met, Cindra didn't want to get to know Janice because of her friendship with Aliss. But it wasn't long before she realized that Janice was going to be an asset.
Janice was changing. Greed and the need for the highest social standing were becoming more important than practically anything else in her life. She found herself arguing with Manuel very frequently about her expenditures. Manual was reaching out to the Conners for more and more loans to keep his wife happy. It was true that his lifestyle was not supported by his income. His only playing card was Mark. He would convince them that he needed extra money to continue his surveillance work for them. It made him take time off of work, and out of the clinic.
It was after the last request for funds that the Conners came up with the idea of the chain of medical clinics. They would start them with Manuel and register them under their holdings company. The company having been registered to another company again and then again.
Manuel saw this as an opportunity to increase his income, to perhaps satisfy his needy wife. It would take time, but he hoped they would turn enough of a profit to satisfy both the Conners and Janice. However, it was like getting into bed with the devil. They would have even more control on his life. But what else could he do? He was obsessed with Janice. Her fiery temper translated to incredible passion both inside and outside the bedroom. She was incredibly beautiful and it was obvious she could garner the attention of any man she wanted. And Manuel would only allow that attention to be on him. Truth be told, he hated the gym. He kept up his body for her. She made him understand that it was a requirement, just like the generous bank account, credit cards and fancy things that she demanded.
The mortgage on their house took most of his income and they lived on credit cards for a lot of their other expenditures. Manuel would cringe when the statements would come in the mail. He would try to curb his wife's spending but it usually ended up in an argument. Most of the time it just wasn't worth the fight. Sometimes, when Janice wanted something very costly, she would give him an unforgettable night, then he would give in. He wished the world didn't have such a hold on him, but he was trapped. Between his wife and his family in Argentina, there was nothing he could do to escape the tangled web of his life.
The Conners, knew all of this. The used it all to keep him under control. There seemed to be no end to the expanse of their wealth and their power. The only thing that mattered to them was their son, and now their grandson.
They lost a lot of the control on Mark when he left home and then graduated medical school. He no longer needed their financial help and now he was quite successful on his own. Mark had used what he learned from his parents' financial acumen and was at first, frugal and smart with his investments. He made good money from the bonds and stocks he did buy. His work as a doctor was more for passion at this point then for the financial gain.
So now the Conners were going to open a chain of medical clinics. Manuel was under the impression that they were only going to be investors, but the truth was they were going to retain the majority of the shares. Through their numbered conglomerate 'Hera Enterprises' they would invest and keep their interest in this and many other companies. What their precious son didn't know, was that Hera Enterprises was the largest financial backer of the hospital he currently worked in. Even if he found out that information, he wouldn't easily be able to trace the company owners back to his parents.
They worked hard at keeping themselves in Marks life, behind the scenes. They knew one day it would be instrumental in their ultimate goal. Having lost their son, they needed a new focus and Aliss provided that focus when she gave birth to their grandson Mac.
Aliss always found Marks parents to be loving and attentive grandparents. They set up a college fund as soon as he was born. The same day, in fact.
Mark would make excuses to keep Aliss and Mac away from his parents, for him it was for good reason. But he never told his wife the whole story of his childhood. He would only say that it wasn't good. Aliss didn't quite understand as they seemed lovely to her. What you don't know will most certainly hurt you, in this case. When she told them about the court case with the disgruntled nanny, Alistair took the paperwork and told Aliss not to worry. Soon enough the entire case was settled and it didn't cost Aliss a cent. The nanny was never heard from again.
Mark, Mac and Aliss were always generously spoiled during holidays and birthdays. Mark would try to admonish his parents but, in front of Aliss they were picture perfect and doting parents and grandparents. This of course would confuse Aliss.
There were times that Mark would speak privately to his parents and that almost always ended in a shortened visit and a quick exit from the estate.
Aliss loved her life, her son and her husband. She had more than she could hope for, except for another child. She tried again and again to convince her husband but he wasn't giving in. At least not at that time. Aliss quit taking her birth control, despite her husband thinking she was still taking them. But Aliss never got pregnant and she was getting concerned that something was wrong. She couldn't see her gynecologist about it, because Mark and the doctor were colleges and she was certain the doctor would confer with her husband. Aliss thought she would have to book an appointment with a doctor out of town. That is exactly what she planned to do.
| Author Notes | I try to build relationships that are both complicated and simple at the same time. |
By EILEEN LAW
The photograph of the man in the park was grainy and his head was turned away from the camera, but still, they could figure out height, approximate weight, race and of course gender. It looked like a man in his 40's, around 175 lbs., mid-range brown hair and he was Caucasian.
So, they had that, plus the medical clinic connection. There were still a few loose ends to work out and they decided to divide and conquer.
Terry was going to go to the precinct to see if there was any information on the newest disappearance. Warren was going to trace all of the last steps of Ollessia's, check the drive through to see if there was any security footage to look through.
Terry was going to have to be careful. On leave she really didn't have access to any files. She waited until Seargeant Hayes left the building then she walked into the main office. She went directly to her desk and feigned looking for something in amongst her paperwork. The clicked into her computer and opened up the files, checking over all the intakes and reports of the day the jogger went missing. She found the files she needed, printed off the reports and with that was able to find where the physical file was located. This she took to the photocopier and made copies of everything inside. She had just slipped the file back inside the file cabinet when she could hear the booming voice of the sergeant coming into the room.
She had to be quick and slip the copies she had just made into her pack, before he found out what she had. Soon enough he came around the corner and saw her. Instantly his face went red and he stopped dead in his tracks.
"What the hell are you doing here, Smythe?!" The vein wiggling in his forehead. He genuinely hated her and he couldn't hide it.
"I left some personal belongings in my desk; I just came by to pick them up." Terry said calmly without breaking eye contact.
"What the fuck could be so important that couldn't wait?" He said while practically stomping towards her.
"Just this," She said evenly, "my garage door opener. Since I left, I have had to park in the driveway." She showed him. It was good she was quick minded and had pulled it out of her pack, just as the Sargeant came into the room.
"Two weeks and you couldn't park in the driveway? What's the matter the pretty car gonna get all wet?" He had assumed she drove what he estimated was a feminine car, whatever that was.
"Nope, can't fix the brakes in the driveway." She said back, knowing he would be shocked at her being able to fix her own car. She couldn't but he didn't need to know that.
That actually stumped him for a moment. His mouth was agape for a few seconds, the time he needed to regain his composure.
With that she grabbed her bag, her keys and her garage opener and headed outside. She never lost eye contact with him, in an alpha stare down. At the last moment he averted his eyes and shouted at another petty officer diverting his anger to another person.
As she walked out the door, from behind her, she heard "find out exactly what she was doing here. I don't buy any of her bullshit."
Warren, working his own tasks, was able to speak to a few people on Olissia's last day, but no one really remembered her. The fast-food restaurant was going to produce the surveillance tape within a few days, according to the pimple faced shift supervisor who relayed the boss's information via telephone.
Later that afternoon, Terry and Warren were back at Terry's house, pouring through the new missing person file. They took their own scene photographs and pieces of evidence and added it to the incomplete file that she was able to copy earlier that day.
Alexandria Zimmerman, 34, Single, no children. High School, PE teacher. Family all close and live in Bozman. Nothing unusual here. The evidence that Anderson took at the scene when it was fresh wasn't very helpful. With the exception of one person who gave a name a phone number, saying they had seen a girl matching the description of the missing jogger, earlier that same day on the path. No follow up of this person was in the file.
Terry grabbed her cell phone and made the call. "Mr. Benson? Clark Benson? This is Detective Smythe of the Bozeman PD. Can I ask you a couple of questions about the jogger you saw on the path last Tuesday?"
"I don't know what else to tell you, detective. She was jogging around the path I was walking with my dog. I noticed her because she was wearing all neon pink. That colour just stands out in a park, like a neon sign." Replied the elderly gentlemen on the other end.
"Mr. Benson, did you see anyone around her, or with her at any time that day?" She inquired.
"No, just her, jogging by herself. Sorry I can't be of more help detective."
"Just one last question, did you see any other joggers that day? Any men jogging on their own in the park?"
"Well yes, there was this one man jogging on his own. But he was running the opposite direction. So, he wasn't with her, that's for sure."
"Do you remember what he looked like?"
"No not really, just average, I guess. Nothing really stood out for me to notice. Not like a pretty young jogger in hot pink would, ya know?"
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Benson. I may need to call you again. Have a good rest of your day." With that she hung up.
She was busy making notes in the file when a sudden noise jolted her from her seat.
Bang! Crash! Warrens chair went flying backwards to the floor when he stood upright quickly. One hand was on his forehead while the other one pointed towards the paperwork on the desk.
"Terry! Show me that Yvette Turners file! I think I got something!" He said excitedly.
The moment he opened up the file, he practically danced with excitement.
"I knew it! I got it!" he jumped up and down while shouting.
"Warren, Warren! Would you calm down and tell me what you found?"
"The names, the names are all the same. Look! Yvette Sasha Turner, Sandra Jean Jesperson, Olessia Ericson, Alexander 'Buddy' Stang and now Alexandria Newman. They are all variations of the name Alexander or Sandra! I looked up Sasha it's a Bulgarian form of Sandra. Sandra is short for Alexandra! You were right, they are all connected!"
"Holy shit" said Terry in a rare moment of profanity. "So, they are connected after all, but now what do we do with this information? We can't tell anyone at the precinct. And we need to figure out why this guy is targeting people with the same name, and how do they all connect? How would he know them all?" said Terry back to her professional voice.
Each answer seemed to bring more questions. There was always more work to do, but now she realized she couldn't continue on her own. It was time, she thought time to get the captain involved. It was obvious that Sargeant Hayes wasn't ever going to listen to her, and she needed more support than just her and Warren. Aside from that, Warrens leave was about to expire and he would have to return to San Jose soon anyway. It was a delicate thing, going above your direct supervisor, but she really felt like she had no choice.
| Author Notes | Writing releases ideas and lets me sleep |
By EILEEN LAW
Darn key didn't fit. Aliss was bound and determined to find what was behind that little door. So far, no luck. She was tempted to force it open, but what good would that really do? Her husband would only figure out she had been poking around and then explanations would need to be had. Until she knew all there was to know, she would wait before asking him anything.
She had made several trips out, all with sweating palms and nervous hands, making copies of all of the files in the drawer. Now that she had them all, she was going to take the time to examine them. She had no medical background other than the first aid she took to get her babysitting license when she was 12, but that probably wouldn't help here.
Mark, away again on one of his somewhat unexplainable trips. This one, he says, to be a medical consult for a special case in Seattle. His trips seemed to be getting more frequent and further away.
Aliss found herself in a bit of a conundrum. She loved her husband and truly believed he was trustworthy, but she was faced with curious facts about his life outside of the home. Why all this secrecy from her? Why are there locked rooms inside her own home? What is with this little office and all its special hand written files? Where was he really going on his trips away? Sometimes with Manuel and sometimes not.
Today, Mac was on a field trip with his school. A full day and now she had it to herself. Time to sleuth a little more. It just occurred to her that she could call a locksmith to open that door. But then again, the lock would be changed and Mark would see that too. Maybe a little google research would help.
So, this day she took all of the copied files and her laptop and spread it out on the kitchen table. First, she sorted by the dates of the first clinic visits as shown in the files, to check to see if it matched any dates in Mark's day planner. Then she sorted them by patient and by gender. Here she confirmed what she thought she knew - all female. Except one. A young boy. She took a little extra time with this file and read what she could.
'June 16th, pt came in for information on transgenderism. Pt starting with complaints of headaches. Px for Naproxen. Offered pt standard literature and recommendation to Kael Fry 'psychologist for initial psychological treatment.'
There were over 30 files to go through and from what she could read, they were general malaise or common illnesses, like the flu, headaches, aches and pains. There were a few more serious notes of testing for cancer and other illnesses. And some fertility and also some pregnancy tests. The general cases appeared to be about female issues or related to the same. Fertility, menopause, birth control and the likes. Even the cancer tests were for cervical, uterine and ovarian. This didn't make sense to Aliss, her husband was an emergency room physician with hopes of training to be a forensic pathologist. These didn't have anything to do with her husband's usual field or work or study. Again, perplexed Aliss sat back and scratched her forehead. She really needed to get inside that closet even more now.
Aliss turned on her laptop. She started searching the words she didn't understand in her husband's notes.
Clomiphene Citrate " estrogen blocking drugs " used to release gonadotropin releasing hormones " encourages ovulation
Novarel, Ovidrel, Pregnyl and Profasi " all similar in its use to cause ovulation.
Estradiol, Climera, Divigel and Elestin " for menopause symptoms
Alesse, Apri, Leostrin and Indayo " birth control pills
Spironolacone, Aldactone, & Cyproterone acetate " injections used by transgender mtf patients
Hmm, curiouser and curiouser. As she was plunking in these medications, prescriptions and symptoms she thought briefly about that little door. She clicked on 'incognito' and searched for lock picks. Sure enough a little website called 'SpyShop' popped up. One of the first things it offered was a lock pick set. Did she really want to do this? Was she really going this far. Heck yes, she was. This was the most exciting thing in her life. She felt alive! Every nerve in her body was tingling and she loved it. The only hesitation was that all of this was about her husband. Other than that, she was all in and ready to go. She clicked the order button and selected to have it sent to her old work. She knew Don would help her out. After all, she just might come back to work. Maybe.
Later that day, Aliss was about to walk into a coffee shop and was so distracted by her musings that she didn't see the extremely tall man that she ran into in the doorframe.
"Pardon me, ma'am." Said the deliciously deep timbre of the voice above her head.
"Oh no! I'm so sorry! I was so distracted I didn't see you there!" Aliss said flustered and a little embarrassed.
"It's ok. But I am going to have to get fresh coffee inside now that mine are all over your shoes." He looked down and the wet pavement and saw his purchase all over both of their shoes.
"Oh no, please let me get them for you. It was my mistake." Aliss offered.
They both turned to reenter the store and somehow both got stuck in the frame. After a few seconds of 'you first, no you first'. They sorted out that Aliss would enter first but not without both chuckling about the entire situation.
At the counter, Terry was looking seriously towards the two of them. However, Warren knew that slight lift of her lips was her form of joviality. Aliss, did not and stopped dead in her tracks.
"I'm so sorry. It wasn't his fault. I crashed into him. Aliss offered.
"Oh no, you don't understand. Warren is always a little distracted himself and I am sure that he played an equal part in this little debacle." Said Terry with a now obvious half smile on her face.
The three of them reordered and ordered coffees and at Aliss's insistence, she paid. Terry noticed that the credit card Aliss used showed the name Dr. Mark Conners and Mrs. Aliss Conners. Not common to see both names on a credit card, but some spouses prefer it that way. Terry was ever observant and tucked that little piece of information away. You just never know when you are going to need it.
By the time the three headed out, Terry went ahead and opened the door for them all. Ushering them through one at a time, something all three found amusing.
As Aliss walked away, Warren said, "Do you come here often? So I can watch for you and make sure we don't get into another collision in the future!"
To which an amused Aliss responded, "Its ok I have Allstate, we are in good hands!"
Terry and Warren continued on to the precinct while Aliss headed to see Don her old boss. Both teams somehow on similar paths, without really knowing it.
| Author Notes | The three meet - they will again. |
By EILEEN LAW
"West Yellowstone Police" Was the answer to the third ring on the phone.
"Uhm yeah, I'm not sure if I should even call you but I thought I saw something weird here today and I thought I should maybe call it in?" He was unsure and nervous about the call, maybe it was nothing and he would get in trouble for wasting the police's time.
"Why don't you tell me what you saw and then we can determine if it warrants more attention." Replied the patrolman on the other end of the line. He got a lot of 'weird' phone calls, and honestly most them bored him. Things like, sasquatch sitings, UFO's and multiple struck animals out on the highway. He was guessing it was one of the first two.
"See, I work at the Exxon in Big Sky Canyon and this guy came in here today. Well, at first, he drove around back of the store and was there for a couple of minutes. I figured he was probably pissing back there, so I didn't think too much about it and for 12 bucks and hour I ain't going check it out. So, then he comes to the pump and tried his card but it didn't work, so he had to come into the store. He pays for his gas and grabs some snacks and coffee."
The officer on the other end of the line was doodling on a piece of paper. Not noticing anything of any value to write down. He just wanted this kid to wrap it up. He sighs heavily, "Unless you actually saw him urinate and have clear identification, we can't prosecute him for any misdemeanor at this time."
"Yeah, ah no. That's not what was weird. He had on new clothes. Casual stuff but his car was all beat up and old like and for a guy so neat and tidy it was weird that his car was full of junk, ya know? But I saw through the back window under the junk in the back I saw some movement. Under all the junk and old blanket. I thought maybe he poached an animal or something and if I'm right maybe I can cash in on that thirteen hundred bucks reward for reporting poachers." The cashier reported.
This was a little more interesting to the officer. Frankly he had had a boring shift and this perked him up a little. Not his usual area of expertise but hell, it was something to do.
"Did you get a plate number? Or can you tell me anything about the car?" Now he was paying more attention. His pen ready at hand on a fresh sheet of paper.
"Well, it's an older Oldsmobile, I think. Brown and rusty, a little dented, no plate number, no. But I did get him to sign up for our discount card. So, I got his name and stuff."
"Ok well, I will dispatch an officer to come to your station. I need you to stay until an officer arrives." That was going to be him. 'Let's roll', he thought to himself.
Soon after, Officer Leven, inside his 4 x 4 cruiser was on the highway headed north. The only report he made to the one person left at the tiny precinct was that he was checking on a possible poacher. He would be available by radio, if needed.
An hour later, he pulled into the station. It was quite busy for 'small town USA'. The back parking lot full of rigs and campers resting for a short while. Inside, the cashier was standing behind the counter serving a couple of clients when the officer walked in.
Police Lieutenant Leven, wasn't far from retirement, mid 50's and physically fit. He was from a German descent with a strict personality to match. He worked homicide in Tennessee for years, but wanted a quieter last few years before retirement. So, he took this position, not understanding how incredibly boring it was going to be. He really wanted to 'stretch his detective legs' for some time. However, the wife really liked the small town and he thought he would stick it out, for her. He genuinely hoped for something more adrenaline filling to enter his life.
It was only a few minutes before a second staff member arrived to release Cory from his cashier duties. Then Cory led the officer to a small back office to discuss the events of earlier in the day. Cory assured his co-worker all was fine and he would share information after the officer left.
A few minutes into conversation after a recounting of the events, a brief description of the customer and the vehicle the officer asked for the copy of the discount card application. Cory was concerned to give the original to the officer but after taking a photocopy for the store, the officer left with the application. As he was walking out, Cory caught the officer outside.
"Officer. Uhm, do you think you may need the surveillance footage? I mean we delete it after 30 days, but I could get my boss to maybe send it to you?"
Damn, he was losing his touch. Of course, the station would have that. "That would be useful. Have your manager contact me when he gets in. My number and emails are on the card."
"One last question? How long do you think it will take till you know if there was a poaching or not? I'd kinda like to get the cash. Uhm, if I can." Priorities, priorities. Seemed the kid was hard up for money.
"We will let you know." The answer was perfunctory and noncommittal.
The officer tried the number listed on the application, of course it was not in service. He noted the name written down was John Smith. Figures. It was a week later when the footage came in. Damn the kid was right, there was something moving in the back of that car. It sure has hell didn't look like any animal. It looked more like someone struggling. His years on the force in homicide certainly helped him in this case. He ran the plates; they came back as stolen. They were from Seattle, Washington. They were reported stolen just one day before.
Lieutenant Leven was feeling particularly bright. He finally felt like he had a puzzle to work on. It was time to assign all the boring work to the team and focus on this. His gut told him there was a lot more than a poaching. Perhaps he needed to check NamUs to see if there were any missing persons close to that little town. Not that, that necessarily was what it was. Also, now that he had a better view of the vehicle, a 1972 Oldsmobile Cutlass. This is no longer a common vehicle. He was going to have to see how many were left registered in Montana, and possibly also Washington.
Steven Leven, was on a trail and he knew it. He started a new case and utilized his homicide skills to create the file. He went with the assumption that there was a missing person in the back of that vehicle. Perhaps a child. He wasn't sure that, that is what this was, but this method of creating the case was the most thorough.
He was going to start with the recent reporting of missing children. Cross check them against the area that the car was seen, and the direction it came from and headed towards, and create an outgoing grid. It was likely that it was a parental kidnapping, so he would look for fathers who were suspected to have 'extended their parental visitations'. Then look at their drivers' license pictures to see if there were any similarities in appearance. One step at a time. The security camera at the service station wasn't the best, and the driver of the Oldsmobile was wearing a cap and sunglasses. This wasn't unusual due to the weather of that day.
There were a few suspected parental kidnappings on the web but no luck matching the information he had against these reports. He starting searching for all missing persons. There were a number of them, but strangely there were 5 known cases in Bozeman. There was a Seargent Hayes attached to these cases. It was time to give this man a call.
| Author Notes | sometimes clues come from the most unusual places |
By EILEEN LAW
"And with that you are now the proud owner of Headwaters Academy. Congratulations Cindra." A formal hand is put forward from a perfectly pressed black suit, typical lawyer attire.
"Thank you, Simon, for getting this done so quickly. Now to be sure, this is registered to Hera Enterprises and there is no way my son will connect that to me or my husband, correct?" Cindra had a way of asking questions that ensured an answer.
"Absolutely. We ensured that Hera Enterprises is a subsidiary of Demeter Holdings which is a 'sister' company to 1269573 BC Ltd and that of course is your Canadian holdings company registered to CVAR Holdings. And as you know CVAR is registered in the Cayman Islands. The probability of unwinding all these directors and holdings is slim at best." His ability to recall business and connections is one of the reasons that he was a senior partner at his firm.
"Fine. I will hold you to that." Cindra abruptly turned and left the room without another word. She held her head high and her spine straight. Her presence to most could intimidate without a look or a word. And she relied on that fact. The staccato of her heels clicked down a silent corridor while she made her way out of the building.
She had ensured this purchase before her grandson would ever need to register in school. She even purchased the other local academies but she knew her son would only want the best. So, Headwaters was it. Cindra made her presence known to the school almost the same day. She contacted the head of the school Grant Hansen and made an appointment to meet with him.
Cindra of course knew everything she could about Grant long before the meeting. She had a team of private investigators at her beck and call and she used them frequently. Grant, it seemed, had a daughter with a drug problem. The knowledge of his daughter he kept away from the academy so the staff didn't even know she existed. His daughter, Jennifer, was born from a teenage fling when he was only 19 years old. He and the mother were estranged and he barely recognized the pregnancy or birth. It was only after the mother, through the welfare system, got him to accept his responsibility. This part of his history was never told to his current family, and now that his daughter was an adult his contact with her was minimal at best. Jennifers' mother had passed away of cirrhosis of the liver from her own years of alcohol abuse several years before, essentially leaving Jennifer an orphan.
However, this information, if shared with the academy and to his wife would devastate his career and marriage. With this knowledge, Cindra was ready.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Hansen. Please have a seat." Cindra waved to the perfectly appointed chair in front of her desk.
"How can I help you, Mrs. Conners?" Grant had accepted the invitation to the meeting not knowing that she was his new boss but only because she was the governors' wife. He took the seat appointed to him and sat somewhat casually in the chair. A stern look from Cindra was all it took for him to straighten up in the seat. A flush of red crossed his face while he did. Being a redhead with blue eyes, the blush is shamefully obvious when it happens and that fact always pissed him off.
"It seems we have a mutual interest Mr. Hansen. I have recently purchased Headwaters Academy, and as its owner the running of the school is my highest priority. The reputation as being one of the best schools in the state is what attracted it to me. The best is always what we strive for, don't we Mr. Hansen?" She slightly arched one eyebrow at him.
"Please call me Grant. Of course it is. I pride myself on attracting only the best instructors and the brightest students. Our selection committee is dedicated to that end. Our academic scores are the highest in the state. Our curriculum is carefully crafted to exceed state and country standards so our students have a higher achievement rate and are best equipped to succeed in their future." He recited as his face was beaming with pride.
"Mr. Hansen," Said Cindra ignoring the invite to use his first name, "I am quite aware of the current workings of the school. However, there is always room for improvement. I want to see the dossiers on all of the staff, I will have my people check them for accuracy. We must make sure that the employees represent the best of the school and that includes what they present to the world. Social media being what it is, we can't be too sure these days."
"I can assure you Mrs. Conners that we vetted our staff quite efficiently and I am sure that you will find the same. In fact, I don't quite understand the need to do this at all. We are already the best in the state."
"Mr. Hansen. I shall make myself clearer, as it seems there is a disconnect here. When I make a request, I expect it to be carried out. There is no need for discussion. Now make sure that those files are in my office by the end of the day tomorrow." Cindra held her mouth in a tight thin line. She does not like being questioned or challenged. Her clear eyes did not waver as they stared him down. He recognized that stare, it would not take no for an answer.
"There are privacy laws in this state Mrs. Conners. I cannot just hand over these files. You must understand." Grant was now getting worried. His own file had some modifications to it. Specifically excluding his daughter Jennifer. For Mrs. Conners he was sure, a child out of wedlock, even in this day and age, would be catastrophic let alone one that was a street working addict.
"As of noon today, Mr. Hansen, I am the one who will sign all the documentation for that school. I will be the one to approve or decline students, curriculum and teachers. I will be the one to write out the paychecks as well. Am I making myself understood?" This was not yet the time to squeeze him about his illegitimate daughter and her issues. This she was going to save for later.
Grants already red face, just got much redder. His heart was pounding in anger and frustration and the veins in his hands were bulging under the pressure. He was not going to like working with this woman.
"I understand Mrs. Conners." He hated her in that moment. He hated being forced to do things and he hated not being in control. He was going to find a way to get back at her. He wasn't sure how, but he was.
"You may leave now." With her dark stare she sent him on his way. Inside, deep inside, there was always this shy little girl that she used to be. But her father beat that out of her quite quickly. She never forgot, be strong and no one can hurt you.
As time went on and Mac got older, Cindra worked hard at the academy to improve on the best. Now, instead of best in the state, it was on a fast track to be the best in the country. Cindra had fired over half of the staff and she replaced them with higher paid and more finely educated instructors. She remodeled the school and added other grades until it was both a middle and a high school.
Grant Hansen was surprised and annoyed by the changes, but did recognize the benefits. Cindra was generous with financial benefits to Grant at just the right times. When she thought that he was going to quit the school she increased his wages and position. She manipulated him skillfully and kept him in line. Cindra's team located Jennifer as well. She wanted to keep tabs on that addict, in case she needed her in the future.
Cindra, years before had also purchased Cottonwood Elementary School. This too was a private school that Mac was attending. However, here she took a back seat. There was an incident and Mark almost found out that she was involved in the school. However, Simon, in his usual capable way, was able to 'hide' her as owner so Mark wasn't able to figure it out.
It was when Mac was only 4 and Mark and Aliss were about to interview the school. They saw Cindra in the parking lot and asked her what she was doing there. Cindra, always a quick wit responded with "It's the best, so of course you would take Mac here. Can't a grandmother participate in her grandson's first day at school?" Mark responded to her by saying, "It's only the interview mother, we will contact you when he actually starts here."
"Of course, son. Nice to see you, Aliss. Mac, come and give Gramma a hug" It was obvious that she loved her grandson and that he was her weakness. It was a rare thing to see her give affection and this she was willing to give in spades to this precious little boy. Soon after that she left. Mark never thought twice about the incident; however, he did tuck that little memory away. He always did when it came to his parents.
Soon enough Mac was old enough to enroll at Headwaters Academy. It was time for Cindra to get to work.
| Author Notes |
Try though I might
keep at the fight here at the wheel signing the deal The truth or the lies where it all ties Twist with the bends Where does it end? |
By EILEEN LAW
He's been doing this for so many years, so carefully that he was getting arrogant about it. His confidence in achieving his 'lovers' and his ability to conceal this part of his lifestyle was, so far, exemplary. No one suspects him. Not one member of his family or community has any idea that he has this other aspect to his life.
He has loved so many women; his temporary relationships fulfilling a deep need inside of him. He splits his life into these pieces to keep those close to him safe. It works well in his mind. He truly feels he is doing this to protect the people he is close to, and he is proud of the way he does it.
The 'freed' women don't even know how much he helps them when he carries them over to the other side. How much love and attention he bestows upon them. He always makes sure that they feel all the pleasure he has to give and in turn receives.
His little treasures that he retains from them, help him to relive and re-love them over and over again. Who doesn't keep memoirs of past loves? Once their souls have been freed to join The Almighty what is left behind is only a casing, those casings are cast-offs and have no value, therefore the discarding of them is inconsequential. He believes his service is for God and that God has anointed his purpose. Everyone has a purpose in life and in some cases even in death. It's a great arrangement he has with Him, a dual purpose, helping God and helping himself.
That is what he has convinced himself of. There is still a part of him that recognizes that there is a down side to his activities, otherwise there would be no secrecy. He has told himself that God sometimes needs his servants to complete these deeds and that they will eventually face persecution. In order to continue in his work, he needs to conceal it until God deems it time to tell the world.
In his daily life he has friends, family and co-workers. He is a successful part of a thriving community. He is loved and he loves in return. In order to live his life, he must separate completely. He is himself most of the time, but on these other occasions, he is 'him'. This helps him compartmentalize his duties and tasks. This way he can function in society as 'normal' and not draw attention. Good thing his job can take him away sometimes. When people start to question his frequency of away time, he pulls back and stays home for longer periods. Once everyone is calm again, he takes another trip away. It can be difficult to wait. But wait he must. It's just that 'he' wants out again and starts to put fantasies inside his mind. He has to curb them. In order to do that, he pulls out his special treasures and allows 'him' to remember all those loving events. Love is the centre of the universe, the centre of it all.
He thinks about the next lover he will need. To the world the women seem random, but that is not the case. He carefully selects them, inspects them, looks at their lives, their daily routines and determines their need for his services. He profiles them and once he selects them, he starts the planning of the capture and 'release'. He creates the profiles similar to one found on a dating site.
He takes photographs of them, downloads them into a file, prints them, then deletes them from his cell phone. He then follows them, without them noticing, and notes down their patterns. Who is involved in their lives and by how much. What is the need? Everyone has one.
So far, he has 'helped' a debt-ridden student, a depresses immigrant, an alcoholic wife, an adulteress, and now a terminally ill teen. All of them needed to seek God and all needed his help. He has so much pride in his work but the only one who knows and the only one he can share it with is God Himself.
Once, and only once, he thought about bringing someone to help. After all, it's a lonely life when you complete the work and there is no one to share it with. Sometimes it would be easier to have an 'apprentice' to help. He was going to meet someone, once. A fledgling killer. He met him, while that person was somewhat in the act. He felt a kinship with this person. But he never approached him, he just watched him. What he saw was an angry killing, brutal and without love. He didn't want that type of person to assist in his work. He needed someone who would love the people they help. No. Anger wasn't going to fit the bill. He needs someone with more peace.
With all of these musings now committed into his secret journal, he closes the book and tucks it away. Locking the door behind him. He takes a moment to realign himself and go and join his family. He tucks 'him' away for another day.
| Author Notes | Inside the killers mind - don't get lost. |
By EILEEN LAW
Terry sits outside in her car. It isn't often she feels nervous, but today she does. She decided to leave both Warren and the evidentiary files at home. She wants to gauge the captains' responses first, before giving everything away. Never show all of your cards at once. Keep the aces up your sleeve.
With a big sigh, she opens the car door, lifts her chin and walks into the precinct.
"Hey Smythe, how are you?" Says Anderson as she passes by him.
She didn't answer him, her focus on getting to her goal keeping her feet moving and her mind strong. She knows he will run straight away over to Hayes and tell him she is there. So, she quickens her step in order to get inside the captains' office before that could happen.
The captains' office was upstairs and away from most of the precinct and certainly far from the sergeant and the pit. The pit being the name for the large room with all of the daily officers' desks in it, and where Terry's desk was situated.
"Terry? How nice to see you." Said the captain with a smile from behind his desk. Captain Dennis Jensen, in his 50's with bright friendly eyes and fuzzy grey and blonde hair. Despite his best-efforts tufts of his hair would always escape his daily hair routine to stick straight up and out, making him look like he rolled out of bed and into his uniform. Captain Jensen was well liked and congenial. He was easy going and straight forward. He had a way of dressing you down and making you feel good about it. But don't mistake his intelligence. He has an incredible attention to detail. His educational specialty was in lie detection. He was so good at it; that he was more accurate than an actual lie detector test.
Terry always liked him. It was his helpful persuasion that convinced Terry to take the job in Bozeman in the first place. However, if she had known about or even met Sergeant Hayes in advance, she probably would have declined. She was somewhat under the impression that the captain would be more involved.
Water under the bridge. Terry always took responsibility for her decisions, good or bad. She had an integrity that included a strong follow through. Never a quitter, she would fight to the end. To finish whatever task or job handed to her, and do a damn good job at it as well.
"Hi Captain Jensen. It's good to see you." She put her strong hand forward to the one he offered out to her as she took the seat in front of his desk.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Are you settling in, ok?" His answer told her part of the truth she was looking for. If he didn't know about her suspension then Sargeant Hayes didn't forward anything 'upstairs'.
"Captain. I have had some difficulties downstairs. I haven't been given all of the investigative opportunities I was assured of when I took this position. I have also had some interpersonal issues as well. I, of course, take responsibility for my lack of patience with some of the staff and I am taking my time off as an opportunity to reflect on that right now." Terry, always extra careful about her wording was counting on the captain figuring out that she was suspended.
"Let me understand you clearly. You are off duty right now? Whatever for? Did you take this time off of your own accord or is there something else I am not aware of?" His focus was intently on her face. His training and ability to detect lies, was in full force at the moment. It was mostly instinctual.
Downstairs, true to Terry's suspicion, Anderson hightailed it into Sargant Hayes office. Hayes was immediately in a panic. He had some answering to do, and he wasn't prepared. More reason to hate that bitch. All she does is cause problems and doesn't respect the chain of command.
"Yes. Well, from the beginning here, I was mostly assigned to filing and rechecking 'phsyc evaluations and, on occasion, I would be allowed to attend crime scenes as a monitor and not an officer. The Sargeant told me that I needed time off to re-evaluate my training. It seems that he felt I was overstepping my investigative boundaries when I didn't give Anderson the ability to complete a crime scene investigation before I stepped in and suggested things that he may have overlooked." Terry was careful how she worded her conversation. She got her point across effectively without embellishment.
Jensen could see no deception in Terry and his demeanor changed from cordial to serious.
"When were you suspended?" he asked.
He would never be unsupportive of his staff without an opportunity to hear all sides. But he wasn't surprised. There hadn't anyone who pressed for more than just a conversation about it. No one before had been suspended or asked for a transfer out of Hayes department. It was important to note, that Terry was the first woman assigned to the department as well. He had heard from others that there was misogynistic side to Hayes.
"Last Tuesday mid-shift" She replied.
"Terry, thank you for coming to see me. I will have a conversation with Sargeant Hayes. Can you wait outside my office until I am done with him? Then we can straighten this all out." With that Terry stepped out and took the opportunity to visit the rest room. She stood in front of the mirror and applied bright red lipstick. That will get a rise out of Hayes for sure.
Jensen was always calm and cool, even when he was mad. Whenever he was angry, the only way to tell, was that his words and conversation would be concise and short. The playful look on his face would disappear and he would hold an almost stiffness to his physique. There would be no doubt he was in charge.
Hayes' report to Jensen included his doubts on Terry's ability to defend herself if needed. Her 'messing up his files' when she was organizing them. Her insubordination towards her slightly superior co-worker, Anderson and her disrespect of himself and his authority.
"If things were going so badly, explain why there were no reports sent to my office? Why wasn't HR involved? What happened to proper procedure, Hayes?" Serious and to the point.
"Well, we have a code, Sir. We take care of our own. You know, keep it inside before we let it out. I thought we could straighten her out and then restart her training. And I didn't want it on her record." Hayes was reaching and Jensen knew it.
"She came with high recommendations. She graduated top of her class in everything she trained in. Her last commander didn't want to let her go. And I quote, 'Detective Smythe has a unique eye for detail rarely seen in one so young. Despite her inexperience, she was able to solve crimes that seasoned vets were going to cold case'."
He was reading from her file that he had on his desk.
"Perhaps the issue with Detective Smythe is more interpersonal rather than investigative." His cold stare into Hayes obviously made the man nervous. Hayes was struggling.
"I was trying to help the girl. She's just a little thing. Could you count on her in a squeeze?" He just buried himself with that line.
"Sargeant. She has had the same physical training you had. She passed all the same requirements for detective that everyone in your department had to pass. Explain to me how such a highly recommended officer suddenly declines under your guidance? Perhaps the suspension was issued to the wrong person. Get her back on the team immediately. And next time you decide to 'help' anyone else, you had better follow proper procedures. In fact, from now on, I want regular reports from you on everyone in your department, including yourself. I wouldn't want to have to shuffle the staff around and make changes now, would I?"
Jensen was damn good at his job and also damn good at figuring people out. His rise to Captain was no surprise.
Hayes got to his feet, red faced and quickly exited the captains' office. On his way out, he saw Terry in the hall, wearing bright red lipstick. Through gritted teeth, "Smythe", was all he would say.
Terry entered the captains' office one more time.
"Terry. I want to you do your best to buckle down, do your job and not get in the way of Hayes. Get back to work, we will see you here in the morning."
"Yes Sir, thank you." And with that Terry was gone. Jensen, behind his desk, had a huge smile on his face. He noticed the red lipstick and along with it, Hayes' response. She was going to give that man a run for his money and Jensen was along for the ride.
| Author Notes | Detective Smythe is on leave - will the Captain help her? |
By EILEEN LAW
He checked her mail once. He knows her name and now he is watching her. Sometimes from across the street, sometimes when she is in her car. He watches her with her son, her husband and sometimes when she is alone. It's when she is alone that he pays close attention. This one doesn't seem to have any real daily patterns.
Some days she stays at home, other days she runs errands. The only regular thing she does is drop her son off at school and later pick him up. There is nothing particularly special about her except that her circumstances should be different.
She lives in an affluent area, and it seems her husband has a good career. Probably something to do with the hospital, most likely a doctor judging from the stethoscope that he frequently hangs around his neck. But why does this woman drive an older car and doesn't wear designer clothing and why does she live beneath her financial abilities?
Perhaps her husband is preventing her from doing the things afforded her station. Maybe he is controlling and doesn't allow her any freedom. Freedom is what she needs. He needs to help her with that. For now, he watches her. Lately she seems to be busier than usual. She has been seen going in and out of an accounting firm. She is usually only there for a few minutes at a time. Lately, something is different. It doesn't matter that much to him, only that it is different. He may have to use another tactic to gain access to her. He is going to have to think harder, so no suspicion is on him. With this house, it can't be here, they probably have some kind of cameras or security system. He will have to watch for her outside the house.
Oh look, there she is with a puppy. She's taking the golden puppy out for a walk. A walk in her neighborhood. This could be something. She knows many of her neighbors and frequently waves hello or stops for quick conversations as she passes. Well, there is a park nearby, perhaps there. There he can start to gain her trust. There he can be seen by her and there he can learn her reasons for his help.
Aliss takes Goldie out for a walk. She likes the stroll around her neighborhood and has used this opportunity to get to know her neighbors. Sheila and Frank next door. Davis and Maisy across the street, Michael and Cloe on the corner. All nice people. Aliss thinks about maybe having a neighborhood barbeque or block party. It would be a great way to meet everyone. Her musings keep her mind busy, most days.
Today is different. She keeps rolling over and over in her mind about the files in her husbands' secret office. After the puppy's walk, she is going to try out the lock pick set that came in yesterday to see if she can get that little door open. As she strolls along, time slips away and soon she finds herself at the back area of the park. A little further than she usually walks. Well, Goldie seemed to like the extra stroll. So, she does an about face to head back towards home.
Ploop! Straight into the chest of the person walking behind her.
"Oh, my goodness! I am so sorry! I have been so distracted I wasn't paying attention, are you alright?" She asked the man whose chest she just bumped into.
"Oh no, its ok. I was bird watching myself and wasn't paying attention." His crinkled smile looked down at her.
"Well, I'll call my insurance company and you call yours. We will get this straightened out, I'm sure!" Aliss said with humour.
"Oh no. I can't do another deductible. No more claims." He replied his hands in the air, picking up on her joke. Both shared a little laugh.
"Well, be more careful in the future, I wouldn't want to call the cops!" She shouts back at him as she walks away.
Cops, no. He definitely doesn't want that.
Aliss quickened her pace and got home in record time. She wasted too much of it meandering the neighborhood. Now that the puppy is walked and tired, she can get to the task at hand.
Aliss goes into the hall closet and secreted behind her winter boots is her little lock pick kit. She takes a few minutes to read the directions and heads downstairs. She had made copies of Mark's secret keys and now has one of her own. She unlocks the door, slips inside the room and locks the door behind her. Soon enough she is next to the little door in the wall.
Try as she might, she can't get the little lock pick to work. She re-reads the instructions and just can't seem to get it done. Exasperated she plunks herself down in the chair at the desk. What now? How in the world is she going to get that door open. If she calls a locksmith, will Mark find out? She has already taken the time to copy all of the files in the drawer and practically has the day planner memorized. She knows when and where her husband is going to be for most of his work days. Hmm. What now?
Of course! She reaches to the back of the bottom right-hand drawer and pulls out the little box. She never thought to open this thing yet. Maybe she can practice her lock picking skills on this before attempting to unlock the door again.
She slips the little rods inside the keyhole and turns carefully. Well, look at that! It unlocked quite easily.
Why is she nervous about opening this box? Is the one of the last secrets her husband has? Does she really want to know? Of course she does! Up and open. Hmm... the box is empty. Nothing in it. Weird. Why keep and empty box locked in a drawer? Her 'Nancy Drew' mind starts winding up. She both loves and hates the secrets. She hates that her husband has them from her but loves the intrigue and the discovery. Oh, well. She closes the lid and pick it up to put it away. Just when she does that she feels and slight sliding feeling inside the box. Like on small item is still inside there. But she looked, there wasn't anything in there. So, she shakes the box. There is a distinct sound of something sliding around inside the box. Ok, lets open it again. She slips her lock set in and plunk! It is quickly opened again. She can feel the little trickle of adrenaline slinking inside her and giving her a little more energy.
With the lid up, still nothing inside. She shakes the box and can still feel the distinct movement of something inside the box. She inspects the interior and picks at the sides of the box. Maybe there is a hidden pocket or something inside? She inspects the lid and pulls on the inner lining. Hmm...there...what is that? A little tiny tab of some kind. She can barely get her nails and fingertips on it, but she does and she pulls gently. It gives way! And when the lining dropped down so did one shiny silver key.
So many secrets and so many questions. Could this be the key? Could she be so lucky to find the exact thing she needed? Hmm, strange little key. She had never seen one quite like it before. It had a normal looking grip end but the other end had what almost look like a dental set. It had geometric lines in it and it was slightly curved. No wonder she couldn't get the lock pick to work. If this was the key to the door, it would be nearly impossible to pick.
Why is she nervous holding this key? Why is she suddenly scared to open that door? What could be in there and did she really want to know? Holding the key, she turned to look at the door. What she assumed was the last little secret her husband had from her. The last vestige of his privacy.
She stands up and walks over to the door. The key slips in easily until the last little bit. She had to press while she turned, like there was a spring on the end. The door is unlocked. She pulls open the door while the key stays in the lock.
It was dark in that space, however the light turned on automatically once the door was completely opened. Inside, one could not stand up and it was only a few feet deep. Aliss, being smaller could get inside slightly crouched.
To her left was an angled wall, as if this was under a stairwell. To her right a smooth cement wall and in front of her a bookshelf. On this bookshelf were stacks of papers, files and accounting books. A few magazines and some old newspaper articles. There were some file folder pouches with elastics on them. The shelves were full. Aliss reached up and grabbed an old newspaper article.
The title read, 'Alistair Conners, elected Mayor of Bozeman in a landslide victory!' She quickly looked at more and most of the newspapers were about Mark's father and some about his mother. All about their careers and victories. On the bottom shelf was an old shoe box. This Aliss takes out and walks to the desk.
She opens the box and inside are pictures of Mark as a child, his parents and some photographs of buildings and cars. She carefully looks at some and others she just pushes aside. One picture catches her attention. In it is a beautiful dark-haired woman. She is walking in profile to the camera and is wearing a green sequined dress that has a slit all the way up to the woman's hip. Her long high-heeled leg slender and clad in silky stockings, the top of which has beautiful lace attached to a garter. It is obvious that this woman didn't know the photo was being taken. Behind the woman is a warehouse, with one simple door in it. There is a couple walking toward that door in the background. The photo could be around 20 years ago, judging by the cars in the scene and the clothing of the woman in the photo. Aliss turns the photo over and written, in Marks handwriting is, 'Plato's Retreat'.
Aliss lost track of time. She can hear the puppy up to something upstairs. Damn! She has to put things back, exactly as she found them. Everything back on the shelf. The door carefully closed and the key back inside the lid of the box. The box back inside the drawer. Aliss slips out of the room and can hear her husband greeting the over excited puppy.
"Aliss? Where are you?" he shouts to the house. Just then, Aliss comes up the stairs with a bottle of wine in her hand. Her heart pounding out of her chest.
"I thought maybe a nice white wine with dinner tonight. I am making branzino. Hello dear." She kisses his cheek and heads towards the kitchen.
"Woman, you are so full of surprises lately. Something I need to know?"
| Author Notes | Trying my hand at detective writing with no previous experience. I spent a lot of time researching, to make sure the details are accurate. |
By EILEEN LAW
"Well, tell me?! How did it go?" Asked Warren somewhat excitedly when Terry walked in the front door. His crooked smile at her red lipstick and quick glance at her lips, didn't go unnoticed.
"The captain put me back on duty, starting tomorrow." Terry responded. Her face wasn't exactly matching her response. He was expecting her to be happy about it but she seemed almost perturbed.
"Its good news, isn't it?" he searched her face for some sign of answer. None was forthcoming. She just continued walking until she was back in her office and sorting paperwork.
"Look, Warren. I know getting back to work is great. But it comes with problems and issues. Now I won't have as much freedom to work on these files. Hayes is pissed at me for going to the captain and not waiting out my suspension. Hayes never reported me to Jensen. I don't know if that's good or bad. I just know that now that I have gone above him, he is going to watch every little move I make from now on." Terry stared straight into Warrens eyes with that point. She was never one to shy away from anything, but that much focus from her is equivalent to full emotion from anyone else. Warren knew this.
"What about the missing persons and the connections? What did he say about that?" he inquired.
"I never got to that. As soon as he found out I was on suspension he wanted to get to the bottom of it. I could hear him and Hayes in the office and he wasn't happy. After that all I could do was exit and get here." With that she let out a big sigh.
"Ok Ok Ok...little wrinkle. We can work around this. I still have a week until I have to get back to SJPD. This is actually good. You can get at the files in the precinct and I can go out into the field and question some of the people you didn't get around to. That way we can attack this thing from both sides. We, at least have an idea what the guy looks like. If all of these are connected like we think they are. I can use that to see if anyone recognizes the picture. I will use the computer and try to clean it up a bit."
Warrens quick mind was formulating a plan. Now he needed Terry to agree.
"You have no jurisdiction here, Warren. And I can't have you risking your badge in San Jose to work on cases here in Bozeman. We have to find another way. You already found a commonality in these files once. Maybe as I bring more evidence back here, you will find more. Lets' focus on that for now and go from there." Terry was being practical again.
Warren intended to follow her advice, except in his own way. He was still going to poke around town, but just not as a police officer, just as a citizen. That way he wasn't going to risk anything and he would be extra careful not to involve Terry in any way.
The next morning, Terry arrived at the precinct, on time and ready to work. She went straight to her desk. In the centre of her desk was a note, written in red lipstick, 'welcome back.' When she opened her desk drawer, inside were several tubes of the same shade of lipstick. She grabbed as many as she could and dumped them inside her garbage can, along with the note.
A few minutes later, Anderson walked up to her.
"Welcome back, Smythe." His knowing half smile only served to anger Terry.
But of course, she kept it inside, and looked up at him saying, "Morning Anderson. I see the color of your nose hasn't changed from its usual shade of brown. Perhaps I can recommend some concealer for you?"
Anderson was never very quick and he stumbled on his words for a moment, "Uhm yea ok, look. I don't want any animosity between us. Let's just let bygones be bygones and try to work together. Hayes asked me to take you out on more crime scenes. He said to let you do your best."
"Sure, of course Anderson." Terry replied knowing damn well nothing was going to change.
That day they went out on a couple of break ins. One residential and one business. Terry did do her best and was able to find pertinent evidence that otherwise would not have been found.
When back at the precinct, she started to work on her reports. She was going to make sure everything was perfect. Not any I undotted or any T uncrossed. She put the completed reports on Hayes desk and took note of the time she did so. Turns out, her first day back was a long one. Terry thought about checking the missing person files again to see if any new evidence had come in. There was one cell phone report due to come back on the Strabynski file. Maybe it was in there by this time.
While still at her desk, central dispatch had patched a phone call into the pit, and there being no one else to take the call at that moment she grabbed the line.
"Bozeman PD, Detective Smythe speaking." She had her pen and note pad at the ready.
"Good evening, Detective this is Lieutenant Leven of West Yellowstone Police, is there a Sargeant Hayes available?"
"He's gone for the day; can I assist you?" Terry answered. Gut instincts were the best, and the timing was perfect.
"Perhaps, I am following up on a possible poaching case from Big Sky Canyon and I noticed that you have had a few missing persons cases. It might not seem related but we aren't sure if the vehicle had an animal or a person in it. So, we thought we would check out any possible leads. Do you have anyone working on the group of missing persons?" Came the question from the Lieutenant on the other end of the phone.
Terry's heart skipped a beat. How would she handle this, and without causing any more riffs at BPD.
"As a matter of fact, I have been working those cases. What can you tell me?" Terry answered in a rare state of excitement.
"Did you have anyone go missing last week that's not yet public knowledge?" Leven wasn't going to give his whole case away in one phone call.
The outer door to the pit was being buzzed at that moment and Terry didn't want to lose this lead, or let it get to Hayes.
"Listen, Lieutenant Leven, I'd love to discuss this further. Can I come out to you and we can compare notes?" Terry asked in a calm voice that belied the incredible energy coursing through her.
"I'm not sure that is necessary at this point, can you just pass my message on to Sergeant Hayes?" His authority was quite obvious in his voice.
"Absolutely, what is the best number to get a hold of you?" Terry answered just as 2 street cops entered the room with Hayes on their heels.
Terry took down his number and the moment Leven hung up, she said to the room, "I'm sure it's just a cat that knocked over your garbage ma'am. But I'd be happy to come out and take a look."
Hayes, overhearing that last comment, waited for Terry to hang up and said, "Now get out there Smythe and show off all your excellent detective skills. And if you get a picture of fluffy, we will be sure to post it on our most wanted wall."
The two beat cops chuckled at that comment. Terry, responded with, "Yes sir, will do. I will post it right next to your receipt for 10 tubes of cherry red lipstick." She stared him down as she exited the building with chuckles of laughter behind her.
She headed home immediately. She was looking forward to sharing her news with Warren.
Warren, she was getting quite used to having around. She was actually starting to like having someone in the house. Starting didn't mean ready to share her life, but starting to. Warren had a way of understanding her in ways no one else in her life had ever had. No one. That was a rare thing and the more time she was spending with him the more she was liking him. And that could be a dangerous thing.
"Well, how was the first day back on the job?" Warren asked with his bright crooked smile.
"Better than I thought." Replied the satisfied Terry. She shared about the lipstick in her drawer, the note and her retort to Hayes on her way out the door. Warren almost splits a gut hearing the story. He definitely appreciated her sense of humour, especially at the expense of Hayes, it made the joke twice as funny.
"The most interesting thing happened in the last few minutes there. I took a call from a Lieutenant Leven from West Yellowstone, a small cop station in the park a couple hours south of here. He has a lead I think may connect to our missing persons files. I'm going out there to talk to him in person. Maybe it's nothing and then again maybe it's the break we need."
After a brief discussion, it was decided Warren was going to come along. They were going to handle the entire situation with honesty. Maybe Leven would appreciate it and understand why they were working the case alone, and why someone from SJPD was involved at all. Tomorrow was going to be the day, so they packed up all their files and notes for the next morning, just in case they would be needed.
Hope was inside Terry, she just needed to solve these cases before anyone else went missing.
| Author Notes | Keep trying and maybe you can figure it out |
By EILEEN LAW
Her expensive heels tap on the marble floors of her generous home. She clicks her way down the hall to the front office. Her spine is ramrod straight and her hair is tightly wound into a French bun. A light dab of perfume wafts from the hem of her skirt and the edge of the collar of her starched blouse. She does a quick tug of her perfectly manicured fingers against the bottom of her suit coat, pulling down to erase any evidence of a wayward wrinkle. Her tight matching skirt with a slight slit at the back stretches with each step. One last tilt of her chin and she pushes the doors open and commands the room with her entrance.
Both Janice and Manuel stiffen when she enters, each for different reasons. Manuel knows this woman holds everything dear in her hands, including his wife.
Janice strives to meet up to Cindra's expectations and somehow feels like she falls short. Adoration is too small of a word. To Janice, Cindra is practically a god. A standard that Janice, despite her many efforts, could never achieve. Janice, years ago, lopped off her beautiful long hair to adopt a style more similar to Cindra's and she dresses more and more like her every day. But not exactly, as that could be insulting, after all, she needs some distinction.
Cindra completes her walk into the room with a distinct plunk of a thick manila folder on the desk as she turns the corner to the back of the desk. The glitter of her oversized diamond ring flashes through the room like paparazzi at a movie opening. Both onlookers squint and recover.
She turns to look at the 2 in front of her. She knows her power over them and intends to use them over and again. Cindra knows her position in life and she had to scratch and crawl her way there and no one and nothing was going to take her down. She built her tower of protection out of manipulation, deceit, bribery and coercion. She is the puppet master and she will win.
Before her are her two greatest assets. These two will get her what she wants and needs. The only thing in her life that she cannot control, they will help her get. And that is her son. She is intent on it and in turn, her grandson. Her son will again see her worth. Inside, deep inside, what she really craves is her sons love and acceptance, but the hard shell of her heart can only see the control. Cindra despises losing above anything else. Mark has slipped away, for now, but if her plans all work out, he will be back and this time for good.
"Sit" was her command and sit they did. She directs her attention to Manuel.
"I have purchased 3 separates spaces for your clinics, the owner of the clinic chain is Arellano Enterprises. There is a business bank account with generous funds in it for you to purchase all the medical equipment and supplies you need. You have an appointment at the bank to sign all the necessary paperwork to get that started. There are documents registered that show that you, Manuel is the holder of the corporation. However, you will sign over that company to me today. I will not date the sale documents and I will hold them here. At such time that you have fulfilled your obligations, I will shred them and you will retain ownership. But let's be clear. My son will not know of my involvement, nor will my husband. The moment my son is your business partner I will step back. I only want the best for my son and he will not accept my help, so this is the way to ensure his and my grandson's future."
Manuel knew not to disagree with Cindra and he took the contracts and signed where he needed to. Manuel deeply resented her and could hardly keep the anger from shaking his fingers. He would do this one last thing for her so he could finally be free. If his clinics do well, he wouldn't need Cindra's help anymore. He would be able to support his family without her, and now that Janice is working as well, he wouldn't need to borrow anymore to keep her happy either. Time was all he needed.
She turns her serious face to Janice.
"Janice, I have purchased the old company where Aliss worked. It is time she went back to work there. You need to encourage her to do so. Go and see Don, her old boss. He already has instructions and a space in the office for you. You will be the new office manager as he is now the president and CEO. He is going to offer her the position as CFO. He does not know that I purchased the company, only my holdings company. Aliss is not to know."
Janice was thrilled to be working with Cindra. She wanted to learn everything she could about the woman. Aliss had become a stepping stone to her dreams and Cindra was the epitome of her achievements. Cindra was the Governors wife and staunch business owner all on her own. She is also president of multi corporations and a woman who commanded respect wherever she went. The vision of stylish perfection whether is business clothes or casual. Her home impeccably decorated with each piece handpicked by Cindra and regularly replaced as style and fashion dictated. Her vehicles were never more than 2 years old. Every staff member of her home was perfectly uniformed and strict in their execution of their duties. One slip up and they would be replaced. Cindra understood that a good wage made staff more faithful and she paid accordingly. And in many ways so did they.
Janice in her efforts to emulate Cindra was always overspending. She, at the current time, was a smaller and poorer version of her deity, but to society she was considered stylish and wealthy.
Cindra knew that Janice emulated her. After all, knowledge is power. She would occasionally offer feigned affection to Janice and would schedule regular lunches to foster that relationship. She knew that Mark loved his wife and so Cindra needed control on Aliss too. Aliss could not be approached directly and needed a gentler hand. The way to Aliss was going to have to be through Janice. Such deep devious plans, but necessary to reach the goal.
Janice stayed behind after Manuel left the office. "Cindra, I was wondering if you thought more about selling the accounting firm to me? I am sure I can get Manuel to pay for it and it would give more incentive for Aliss to come and work there." She offered with hesitation and nerves.
Cindra thought this girl was stupid. Aliss would never work for a friend. That would change the dynamic of their relationship. It is better that Aliss sees Janice as an equal or it wasn't going to work at all. Some people are better as workers rather than leaders. However, she needed Janice so she was going to have to appease her.
"Yes, I have. If you can get Aliss to come work at the firm again, I am prepared to offer you a partnership based on our agreement. Aliss must be working full time and for a minimum of 3 months and then we will talk contracts, ok?" She internally swallowed a small amount of bile. "Lunch on Thursday at 1, remember?" She said to Janice as she ushered her out the front door.
"See you there!" Said an excited Janice. She was always happy to be seen in public with Mrs. Cindra Conners, it made doors open for her in ways never before. For Janice, anything that can propel her forward was useful and anything that held her back was not. She didn't keep useless things around.
Janice's heart was getting colder by the day. No one knew the little secrets that Janice had. She was good at getting people to see her as simple and uncomplicated. Janice had goals and she was going to use everything at her hand to get there. She was collecting things on all of the people in her life. Some scandalous and some not so much. But collect she did. In time she was going to take them all down one by one. Soon she will prove to Cindra that she was her equal, and then maybe they could take on the world, together.
| Author Notes | I try to draw in my reader with as much detail into character as I can. Come along for the ride! |
By EILEEN LAW
"Hey mom, What's up?" Terry said to her mother somewhat distractedly as she looked over files on her desk.
"I hate to ask you Hun, but your dad's been so busy lately that he hasn't been working as much. And you know Katie Girls therapy is so expensive." Terry's mother Linda said with sincere guilt in her voice.
Linda, a petite brunette never lost her old ways, she stayed in maxi dresses with long hair and braids, and could often be seen wearing a headband or a flower over her ear. But she did make the best and most fragrant home-made soaps. Whenever she could, she would sell these at farmers markets and county fairs. Along with the odd jobs her husband would get, they almost kept things paid.
"It's ok mom, how much do you need?" Said Terry already knowing what the call was for.
"Whatever you can spare, we are behind on the rent again. Honestly, I don't know what your father does with his time. Well, at least he brings back fresh fruits and vegetables when he comes home." She usually had difficulty staying focused but then again, she finds the best in people.
"Of course, Mom, I'll do it right away." Terry knew her mothers' shortcomings and, in many ways, loved her for them.
Soon after that call, she received a second call, this one from her father.
"Whatta ya know Joe." Was the usual greeting and it had become traditional between the two.
"Just you baby girl, you're ap'peal'ing." Was his response, a play on her actual first name, Tangerine.
"Dad, it isn't my day for Katie Girl, is it?" Terry asked him now that the greetings were out of the way.
"No, it isn't. I was just wondering if you can help your old man out. My cars been giving me trouble lately." Said Joe.
"Ah dad, when are going to get rid of that old beater and get a better car. I told you I'd help you out." Terry responded somewhat irritated at the same old conversations.
"She's a good car, she just needs a kick in the tires every once in a while." Joe paused before continuing on, "Uhm, Terry, do me a favour and don't tell your mom I called?" Joe pleaded.
"Of course, dad. But you know if she asks me directly, I have to tell the truth." Terry was always extremely honest but never offered information that wasn't asked for.
"Yeah, I know. The old car needs new tires and Frank at the shop won't take trade anymore." Joe added.
"Ok dad, I'll call Frank and pay the bill for you." Truth was Frank already called her earlier and she had paid the bill by credit card. A point she didn't bother telling her father.
"Thanks Tangerine, gotta go." With that he hung up the phone.
Terry looked up at the clock, finally the work day ended. She had taken an early shift so she could go and see Lieutenant Leven that afternoon. After heading home for a quick change and to grab Warren, she was on the road.
Leven wasn't expecting her, or Warren when they pulled up to the station a couple of hours later. As soon as her car pulled in, he was outside waiting.
"Good afternoon officers, what can I do for you?" Was Levens first words to both Terry and Warren.
"Hey, how did you know we were cops?" Asked Warren without preamble closing his door.
"Standard issue ghost car." Was Levens response.
"Except that this is my personal vehicle" responded Terry as they both approached Leven.
"Hmm good choice then. That means you're always on the job." Leven kind of respected that.
"Did Hayes send you down to talk to me?" Was his follow up question.
"Actually, that's part of the reason we are here. Is there an office we can go to, to talk about that?" Said Terry giving her best professional and serious look to the Lieutenant.
"Alright fine, come on in." He was now curious and wanted answers.
They were led into a small interrogation room with a table and three chairs. Terry was the first to start a conversation.
"Lieutenant Leven" she said.
"Steven, were all cops here."
"Thank you, I'm Terry and this is my colleague, Warren. Warren is a pattern specialist and descriptor. I am a detective with BPD, as you know." Terry intentionally didn't include the fact that Warren was from SJPD and not BPD.
"Tell me why you two are here when I specifically asked for Sargent Hayes." Steven Leven didn't like insubordination and if there wasn't a damn good reason for her being here instead of her Sargeant he was going to cut the meeting real short.
"I am here on behalf of my Captain, Steven and not my Sargeant." Terry offered, for the first time not telling the complete truth. "Aside from that, the missing persons cases are mine and not Hayes. I think I saved you time by bypassing the call to him to get me anyway." She stared straight into his eyes with that answer. That worked and Leven settled down enough to sit down at the desk.
Terry gave a basic and factual report on all of the missing persons that she had files on. Warren interjected when questions came up about patterns and decryption. It was obvious to Leven that Terry was doing a thorough job and the files were almost complete.
"So, your most recent missing person, Alexandria Zimmerman. Looks like the timeline matches when our guy was seen at the gas station." Leven offered.
"Did anyone get a description of the driver" asked Terry.
"Actually, we do. The clerk at the gas station..." Steven looks down at his notes and continues, "A Cory Webster" He looks up at Terry and adds, "he thought there was a reward for poachers and noticed movement in the back of the car under a blanket. Unfortunately, the camera doesn't get a clear shot of the driver but you can definitely see movement in the back. I had no reports of poachers in the area and it is off season for buck hunting. But something about the movement in the seat looked more like a struggle. My hunch said it was something that needed a closer look. The kid reported that the man was wearing a hat and sunglasses, not unusual for the weather, but he did notice that the driver looked like he was wearing all new clothes, casual but new. It seemed out of place for the car he was driving, I agree with the kid."
"Did you get a physical description?" Terry asked between writing down the details on her notepad.
"Not much, Caucasian, average build, around 5' 10 and short brown hair. That's about it and the video is very clear either." Leven offered.
"Can I see the video, Steven?" Asked Terry a little more excited now.
"Yes, I have it here on my laptop." And with that he swung the screen around for Terry to see. The moment the video came up on the screen, her heart dropped into her chest and her stomach froze. The car looked exactly like her fathers' car, right down to the colour. She tried to keep the shock off of her face, but she wasn't successful. Warren, who knew her well, could tell something was off.
"Is there any way to clean this picture up?" Asked Terry desperate to prove it wasn't her fathers' car in the video.
"Uhm yea sure, I can probably play around with it for you." Said Warren. "But I'll need a couple of days, can you forward that to me Steven?"
Leven noticed a change in Terry but not enough to call her out on it. But enough to say, "Whatever you find out, I am to be included in that information. It's my case currently." There was no argument afforded here. He took down Warren's information and closed the laptop.
"I ran the plates on the car and they showed up as stolen. The car is a '72 Cutlass, not so common these days. I was able to get 16 registered in the pacific northwest and of those, 7 were brown. There weren't any that came up in Bozeman at all. But the plates were from Seattle and I found 4 of them registered within a couple hours' drive from where the plates were stolen from." Steven offered.
Terry felt some relief, her fathers' car was in Bozeman and he had it for most of her life, and she was quite certain the insurance was Montana.
"Would it be ok for us to stop at the service station and follow up with Cory on our way back, taking for granted he is there when we get there?" Said Terry, more for professional courtesy than permission. Leven had already given Terry the clerks contact information and she was going to call him on the drive north anyway to make sure he was there when she got there.
"Of course," The way he answered it seemed to have a warning attached, like its mine and don't mess with it. "But before you go, lets agree to share information on these cases. It would be faster with all of us working together rather than separately. For now, informal, and when and if necessary, we will formalize it. Agreed?" Leven wasn't taking no for an answer but the good thing was that Terry was relieved to hear his offer.
"Absolutely." Terry offered her cell number for contact and took his. Just as she was packing up, Leven showed her the signed discount card and gave her copies for her own files. The handwriting didn't match her fathers but that could be because the clerk filled it out. Noting all of these details Terry and Warren headed out.
| Author Notes | A scary but important clue is given to Warren and Terry. Is her father into something he shouldn't be? |
By EILEEN LAW
Mark had to get away for a few days. He had a medical convention with The IACME (International Association of Coroners & Medical Examiners) in St Louis Missouri. He would be gone 10 days. Ten days would give her plenty of time to figure out exactly what was going on in the basement. She could hardly hold her excitement while she drove him to the airport.
"I know it's a longer trip than normal, but if you stick to the schedule, everything should be just fine." Said Mark while he flipped through is schedule on his iPhone.
"Mark, I'm a grown woman. I don't need any schedule to fill my days. If you remember, I had my own place when we met. I can handle 10 days on my own." Aliss was mildly irritated but kept her voice light. It wasn't common for her to contradict what Mark would say to her.
"Hmm, getting bold, are we?" He arched an eyebrow at her. Secretly he liked this strength in her and was hoping she would assert herself even more.
Aliss, misunderstanding him responds, "I don't mean to disagree, it's just that by now you should see that I am a capable woman." She turned to him and flashed her pretty blue eyes at him, his kryptonite.
"If you don't stop this, I may make you turn this car around, take you home and give you the spanking you deserve." He gave her a playful look while he said it.
Aliss felt her body respond in the most delicious way. She liked this side of him, and it was rare that she got to see it. She blushed as she turned her eyes back to the road, "Maybe it's you that gets the spanking." She dared.
To this Mark let out a loud laugh and dropped his phone. Soon enough Aliss was laughing along with him and the two enjoyed the feeling for a few minutes more.
At the airport Mark hugged his wife and kissed her like he used to when they were dating. Aliss melted and felt all the butterflies in her stomach again. She loved this side of him..
"Wow husband, any more of that and Mac with have a sibling." She blushed at him.
"We shall see when I return, wife." He said to her. He loved her in a comfortable way, but when she took out her sassy side he practically buzzed with love and affection.
One final hug and Mark was on his way. Aliss was going to miss him and the anticipation of his return hummed along her spine.
She got back beside the car and her smile disappeared as just then she felt an unpleasant shiver run up her back, then along her arms the little hairs raised up. This feeling was almost like a warning. She took a quick glance around her before climbing back into the car.
Soon enough and Aliss was on the highway headed back home. She had a couple of more hours before she would have to pick Mac up from school and she wanted to get into the office's closet one more time. She wanted to see if there were any more little secrets she could find.
When she opened the front door of the house, Goldie came trotting up to her with her tail wagging.
"Ok, Ok Goldie, hello, hello" She stroked the dogs' soft fur and patted its side.
She went downstairs, unlocked the office door and this time didn't close it behind her, she was alone and so there was no threat of her husband walking in. She walked straight back to the desk. In the back of the bottom right drawer is the small box, she gets it open quickly. She thinks she is getting quite deft at handling the lock pick she had.
As soon as the closet is open, she grabs the stack of file folders, taking a few, puts the rest back, she returns to the desk to look inside them. There are legal files inside, purchase agreements and deeds to property, and contracts and what looked like a law suit or legal agreement. As she looks through them, she notices that they are all copies, none are originals. There are companies that she had never heard of and corporations that had purchased land. None of the names were any she knew or that she was aware her husband knew. What in the world was going on? She was so confused. Why is he holding all of these documents, where did he get them and why is he hiding all of this from her?
She carefully returned the files back inside the folders and put them back on the shelf. She was moving things around and sifting through stacks of files and small boxes, when she sees it. One shoe box on the bottom shelf labelled 'Corrine'.
She walks back to the desk with the blue Nike box. She dusts off the top with her hand without even thinking about disturbing the dust. She opens it and inside are photographs, notes, cards and a lock of bright red hair.
Aliss sits back with a sigh. Does she really want to know what this is? Is her husband having an affair? Is this one of the patients that have a file in the drawer? Is there something else going on that she doesn't know?
She is filled with different feelings, anger, curiosity, sadness, excitement and underneath it all, electrified. None of this was going to stop her from looking inside even more.
She pulled out a few photographs. In one is a stunning red head standing with her arms around a younger Mark. It seems this is a woman from his past. Ok, that's a relief. In the background are a few other people, some looking at the camera. One is a younger version of Manuel. On the back of the photo is written. 'Sometime around April'. Other photographs include one on a beach with the red-head that Aliss assumed was Corrine. Some with Mark and some with Manuel amongst other people Aliss didn't know.
She puts the photographs back and opens one of the cards. It's a birthday card to Mark. Inside the card in handwriting reads, 'To Mark, My love always, Corrine.'
'Why do I feel jealous?' Aliss thought to herself. 'It's silly, it was before he met me.'
Underneath all of the pictures and cards is a tri folded document. Aliss takes this out and opens it. On the top is the company name 'Bond Investigations'.
She reads more. It is a missing person search. The investigator lists all the efforts used to find Corrine O'Neil. It was quite detailed, listing hospitals, police departments, flights, busses, previous known address. Last known work place. Interviews with friends and co-workers. Apparently, she was an orphan as no one was able to find any living relatives. This report covered several months and the conclusion was that either the lady left back to Ireland or that she genuinely didn't want to be found.
Suddenly, Bang! Aliss pulled out of her musings, jumped out of her skin. The dog had pulled a box down off of the shelf. Aliss packed up the shoebox, all except for the private detectives' report. She thought maybe, if they were still in business that she would have a little visit to the office. She might be able to get them to tell her more about this Corrine O'Neil.
After closing up the closet and the downstairs office, Aliss slipped the report into her purse and headed out the door.
| Author Notes | sometimes changes in a relationship make it all better |
By EILEEN LAW
"Hi Joe, you're back early" said Linda smiling at her husband as he walked into the backyard of their modest home.
"Yea, work was slow." He replied while handing his wife a basket of fresh vegetables.
"More veggies from the farm, how nice. If it's not a bother babe, I need you to take me to the pharmacy. Doctor refilled my prescription and I need to go pick it up." Linda implored.
"Woman, you really should have gotten your drivers' license" Joe said while he swatted the behind of his wife.
"Why would I ever do that when I have the most handsome chauffeur in the world right here?" Linda replied with a slight giggle while she cuddled inside the hug offered by her husband.
"All right then woman, let's go before I distract you with a different vegetable that I still have in my pants." He was in a great mood today.
"It's a good thing I am a vegetarian!" She said while she swished away to get her purse.
Soon enough the two are outside of the pharmacy. Linda headed inside while Joe stepped out of the car to light a home rolled cigarette. He lifted up the lighter and it slipped out of his hand and onto the sidewalk. Just as he bent over to pick it up, an unaware pedestrian did a quick sidestep and said, "Oops! Almost got you there!"
Joe straightened up with the lighter in hand and watched Aliss open the door of the pharmacy with a quick wave behind her to Joe.
"Sorry miss" said Joe. He took an even longer look at the woman who just passed him. She was familiar to him, although they had never met.
Inside the store Linda was humming along the isles shopping while waiting for her prescription.
Aliss, for the second time, had to sidestep someone who was suddenly in her path.
"Oh! I am so sorry!" Linda said to Aliss.
"That's quite alright, I seem to be in everyone's path today. What a lovely scent you're wearing. Is it jasmine or lilac?" Aliss complimented the simple woman as she stopped in the aisle.
"Lilac. It's probably my soap. I make all of my own." she relied graciously.
"Ahh yes! I think I bought some at the market recently. I love it." said Aliss now recognizing the woman beside her.
"I am Aliss" she offered.
"Linda....Linda Smythe. I am so glad you like my soap. I also make shampoo and conditioner. No preservatives and all natural. You should try some sometime. I live at the old Sampson farm, stop by anytime and I will give you some." Linda liked Aliss immediately.
"Sounds great. Have a lovely afternoon." Aliss walked away from Linda and toward the back of the pharmacy.
"Good afternoon" Aliss said to the clerk at the UPS counter. "I received a notice of a package delivery in the mail. I am here to pick it up."
Aliss produced the delivery slip and her ID. The large envelope is addressed to her husband.
"There have been a bunch of these coming in for Dr. Conners lately. I think there may be one more in the back, I haven't put it on the truck. Want me to look?" Offered the clerk.
"Oh yes please, that will save me another trip." Aliss replied.
Most of the time these packages contained information about prescriptions or medical equipment that were new to market. It wasn't often they were actually for the family.
The clerk came back with 3 packages of varying sizes. 2 boxes and one more large envelope. Aliss wasn't aware of anything coming, usually Mark would let her know if there was. She took the bundles out to her car, barely able to carry it all. She was kind of curious of what would be inside and thought to get them home and open them up.
On the way home she stopped at Bond Private Investigations agency, luckily it was only a few blocks away from the pharmacy. Both were very close to the university as well.
She walked into the lobby not exactly sure what she was going to do or say. But lately she had found herself with more and more courage.
A severe looking woman closing on retirement looked directly at Aliss, "Can I help you?" Was her short question. The look on her face was as if Aliss's presence was disturbing her busy work schedule.
"Yes, can I please speak to, Garry Noble?"
"What is this regarding?" Again, irritated at Aliss's presence.
"I would like to speak to him about and investigation he completed a few years ago." Aliss looked directly back at the woman, almost daring her to challenge her. Aliss adopted a look she had seen her mother-in-law using when directing her house staff.
"Who may I say is here to see him?" That seemed to work. The woman immediately backed down and buzzed the person in question.
"Mrs. Conners." If anyone knew her in-laws that name was about to get people moving in that office.
"Of course, Mrs. Conners I will ring him right away." Yep, she knew the family name.
It was only a few moments later when a portly grey-haired man in a very tight suit came to the front desk.
"Mrs. Conners, pleased to make your acquaintance." The formality of the words didn't seem to fit the man in front of her. She surmised he thought she may be her mother-in-law. "Please follow me."
Soon enough they were inside a large board room with more than 20 chairs around an oval table. On one end of the room is a large whiteboard and at the other a side table with a pitcher and glasses for water.
"What brings you here, Mrs. Conners?"
"I have this file from a few years ago and I was wondering if you could tell me anything about it?" Aliss asked curiously.
With that she pulled the folded paper out of her purse and presented it to him.
He unfolded the document and looked at it. It was only 3 seconds when he said. "This was closed years ago. We determined that we couldn't find this woman, don't you recall?" he offered after a deep drink of water and a loud swallow.
"You must be mistaking me for my mother-in-law Mrs. Cindra Conners, I am the wife of her son, Mark, the person who hired you to find this person."
Aliss was excited inside and very curious. There was something going on here. Why was this man so nervous all of the sudden?
"Oh, of course Mrs. Conners. Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you?" His nervousness didn't calm down, in fact it seemed worse.
"Why did my husband hire you in the first place? Who was this woman? And what happened to her?" she asked.
"He said she was a friend. That she left without any warning or forwarding an address. He said he wanted to make sure she was ok. He told us the police weren't interested in his report of a missing woman so he had no choice but to come to us. We determined that she just wanted to be gone and she was." His eyes kept darting to the closed office door.
That was interesting. Why would he just stop looking? Why wouldn't the police want to know about a missing person? Why would the not follow up on this? She now had more questions than answers.
"If there is nothing else Mrs. Conners." He said while standing up.
She could tell he wasn't going to say anything else so she stood up as well and headed out of the room.
"Thank you, you have been most helpful." Actually, he was.
She put the file back inside her purse. At the front desk she asked the receptionist. "Can you please tell me if there is anything left owing on this file? If there is I would like to pay any balance."
The secretary clicked into her computer. "This is an old one but it comes up associated with some other files we have here. No, there isn't anything owing. It's all been paid by you, Mrs. Cindra Conners." She looks up with puzzlement on her furrowed brow.
"Ok thank you very much." Aliss took her leave before the receptionist put together that she wasn't Cindra herself.
| Author Notes | This family is twisted - but behind that is murder - are they connected? |
By EILEEN LAW
This person was closer than the others, he knows her but she doesn't really know him. Just in passing. But he still wanted to track her so she was unaware that he was watching her. She was perfect to him and really needed his help. It seemed to him that she was in a loveless marriage and needed freedom from it. He thought that her husband was too controlling, based on the little interactions he had seen between them.
Money can't buy you happiness. She lived in an affluent neighborhood, was married to a doctor and seemed to have a nice life in that sense. But what good does that do, without love? Love is all he had for her, that and sorrow. He felt bad for her in her ivory tower.
Once, when he went through her mail, he discovered that her husband was a doctor. Fits the lifestyle after all.
Late one afternoon he booked an appointment at Dr. Mark Conners office feigning a sore stomach, just to get a feel for the guy. As he suspected, the good old doctor was a severe controlling man. He couldn't get the guy to engage in any personal conversation. There was just, 'how long have you had this pain?' and 'have you been sick recently?' kind of questions. Hmm no wonder she was so sad. Oh well, time to get on with the next stages of his plan.
After the doctors' visit, he drove over to a familiar friend. Well, not quite a friend, a stooge anyway. The guy was perfect for his needs. He just takes his lists and picks up his supplies on demand with little to no questions. How perfect was that? The guy obviously needed the work. If Joe asked, he wouldn't answer many questions anyway. That would have ended their relationship right quick.
"Good afternoon, and how are we today?" Said Joe Smythe to his employer holding his hand out for a shake.
"Good. Just got a new list for you. I need you to pick these things up in Seattle for me. I have included a little extra cash so you can take a motel for the night. I have already called the suppliers and they are expecting you. When you get back just put them in the back of my garage at the house. I'll get a hold of you next week for any other items I may need." He handed an envelope over to Joe.
"Sure, what are you building anyway? Perhaps I can help?" Joe asked him.
"It's nothing I can't handle. A little project for me and the Mrs." And with that he left. As he walked away, he subconsciously patted the small pistol in his right pocket. His mind was already wandering over to the lovely lady he was planning on helping very soon. It seemed that her husband was out of town. Isn't that when most women leave their husbands?
Joe had a million questions for him but never voiced them. The guy paid well and never bothered him for anything. Just pick up and deliver. He found the guy from a craigslist advertisement. The ad said it was looking for someone as an occasional delivery man. Part time and sporadic. It fit Joe perfectly. Linda was always very understanding of the job and he always made sure to pick up some fresh fruits and vegetables on the way home with any cash that he had left over. Sometimes he would surprise his wife with flowers. She loved that and in turn he would get his surprise too.
The lists always varied in items. Sometimes chemicals, sometimes gardening supplies and sometimes lumber. It always struck Joe as curious that he bought these things from different places, especially considering most of it was available here, in town. However, cash is king and Joe wanted to take care of his family. His daughter Karma had expensive therapy and cash was hard to come by.
During the last delivery, Joe got to drive the guys' truck. Nice new pick-up truck, it was a dream to drive. He gave the guy the keys to his old Oldsmobile, just in case he needed it while he was away. When Joe got back from that trip, his car was there, freshly washed with a full tank of gas. Heck if that guy wanted his car in the future, he could have it any time!
| Author Notes | this book has taken almost a year to write and 6 months to research. I hope you have been enjoying it. |
By EILEEN LAW
"Hello Detective Smythe, Its Captain Jensen. Please come see me in my office today. I'll be here until 3:30." He never thought he could ever be disappointed in Terry, but after the meeting he had just had, there was definitely some explaining to do.
"Yes, Sir. Of course. I can be there at 2." Terry answered both curious and a little frightened. She had never heard such a serious voice on the captain. They had always had a friendly rapport.
At precisely 2pm Terry knocked on the door of Captain Jensen and sat herself down in front of his desk.
His face was all business, serious, like he was reading an obituary rather than having a meeting with his star recruit.
"Detective Smythe, it has come to my attention that you have been splitting your duties here at the precinct. Frequently you have not been at your desk when needed or haven't answered any calls. You have been seen re-investigating already cleared crime scenes, submitting evidence of the same, requesting DNA and fingerprints on cases assigned to other detectives and re-visiting witnesses. All without the knowledge or authorization of your superior. Can you explain all of this?" he said to her all the while watching her face for reaction.
Terry was tight fisted and was wriggling her toes inside her shoes, she felt both angry and mildly embarrassed. How did he know all of this? Who was in here talking and why? He needed to know the truth; she was planning on bringing this all to him anyway but it was just a little sooner than expected. Terry knew it was time to come clean. Honesty was always better anyway.
"Yes Captain, I can. Since I have joined this precinct, I have been underused and undervalued. I have been assigned tasks barely above those of a legal secretary. I have been directed to reorganize files, insert phsyc reports, type up warrants and file them at the court. The Sargeant has not allowed me to conduct any cases on my own and tells me to shadow Anderson. Anderson is always the lead. I am not saying that I don't need the experience, but when my case supervisor is missing easy evidence at crime scenes am I supposed to just stand there and leave it, or collect it myself? I have tried pointing out mistakes to Anderson, but he gets angry and states that he would have found them on his own. So, when he hasn't, I have gone back to the crime scenes and collected the missed evidence on my own. I make sure that the lab gets the correct files and that the results go to Anderson or to any detective that has been assigned the cases. But when Anderson gets them, he complains to the Sargeant instead of talking to me."
"Have you tried talking to Hayes on your own?" The captain inquired.
"Sir, I am not sure if you are aware of our dynamic. He is convinced that women do not belong in the force and especially not as a detective. I have had nothing but pushback from him from the first day here. I am trying to work things out inside my department and not involving you or IA." Terry offered honestly.
"I heard about the lipstick in your desk. But are you sure that he was involved or were you just guessing?" She could see a hint of a smile on his face. She had always impressed him.
"It was an educated guess based on evidence provided at the scene." She offered including her own slight smile.
"What have you been working on so hard lately? And don't miss out on any details. I need to know exactly what is going on in my precinct."
She started with her impression that the missing people were all connected somehow. Then Terry offered as much detail as she could based on the evidence and research that she had been doing both at the precinct and on her own. She even included Warren and his observations, however skipping the detail that he was in town helping her.
He seemed impressed with her thoroughness and detail. He was note taking at a fast pace.
"Bring me the files on those cases plus any evidence that you have collected as well. Keep this between us and I will talk to you more on it later. For now, buckle down and focus only on your job as Hayes has laid it out for you. By the end of the week, we will reconvene and discuss this further." With that he put aside his notes and excused her from the office.
Terry did exactly what was asked of her. She carefully packed up all of her files, witness statements, phone records, and physical evidence and brought it all to the captain. Warren was due back at SJPD, so she took him to the airport. Warren, of course, tried to insist that he should stay. Terry said she needed to take responsibility, no matter what that looked like.
It took only 3 days and the captain called Terry back to his office.
"Is this everything on these cases or is there something that you have left out?" Was his first question to Terry.
"This is all of the witness and physical evidence I have. There is a lead from a Lieutenant Leven in Yellowstone PD that may or may not be connected. I have only talked to him once, but he seems to have some interesting input on this as well. He thinks he has a witness that has seen a vehicle that may have had a person concealed in the back of the car. He is still working on that one, but if its connected, there may be more to this than what initially appears with these files."
"Detective Smythe. Let's be clear. There are procedures in place here that have worked and have purpose. There are channels and hierarchy that must be respected. You have circumvented those procedures and ignored your supervisory chain. This is not acceptable in any precinct and this one is no exception. That being said, I agree there is more to these cases than first appears and that some evidence was not collected properly and that is concerning. I further agree that there seems to be a connection to all of these cases. All of the missing persons have a variation of the name Alexander and that is damn curious. We cannot ignore these facts. I have suggested to Hayes that a task force is to be created to work these cases together and in much more detail. I will continue to work with you and the team to try to solve one or all of these missing persons cases.
There's a certain point after about a week or two where you have to think, the potential that the missing person is dead and that it's a matter of trying to find their body and bring closure to the family and to determine if you now have a homicide investigation, or suicide, or some kind of accidental death. It is our responsibility to find those answers for these families.
You will work with Anderson and Hayes, they have more experience with these cases, however your efforts are not to be ignored. I have spoken to Hayes about your concerns as he assures me that his intent was to protect his new detective not to exclude you. He has his way of training and we have to respect that. He will head up this task force under my supervision. You will provide him and the team with any other leads that you may discover and include them in all of your efforts. As you were the first contact for Lieutenant Leven, it is up to you to invite him and his department to coordinate efforts and get these crimes solved. And Detective, good job."
Terry was not happy one little bit about having to work with Anderson and Hayes, but the captain was going to supervise so maybe that would help keep things on an even keel, maybe. She felt like this was her project and that she should head up the investigations, but she also always respected the chain of command. Well, usually.
As she walked down the hall and towards the pit, she could hear whispers behind her back. She was almost at her desk when Hayes called her into his office.
His purple face behind his desk greeted her completely composed one. This was a battle that needed to be had, and Terry was expecting it.
"Detective Smythe. The captain brought me up to speed on your 'private investigations' and has assigned me to head up the task force. Starting tomorrow, myself, Anderson, Brookes and Wheeler will meet with you. We are setting up the back room and we need you to get the team up to speed. I want a list of leads that haven't been followed, witnesses that you have yet to interview and any additional information that you have kept to yourself that are pertinent to these cases. From now on, anything you do for this agency will be run through me. When you leave this precinct, you will tell me where you are going and why. Any witness statements, evidence or reports that you collect will be delivered to me and therefore to the group. If you ever get these ideas again, in the future. Bring them to me before you go off on your own. Is this all clear detective?"
For the second time that day, she found herself with clenched fists and wriggling toes, her avenue for stress relief. Abruptly Terry stood up and looked at Hayes directly in his red rimmed swollen eyes. She very slightly leans forward and with command delivers her message.
"Absolutely Sargeant." She turns and leaves his office. She paused at the door. "I am leaving the precinct Sargeant. First, I am going to the gas station for fuel, perhaps to the drive through for some dinner and then I am going home. Did you want my route as well?"
With that Terry collected her belongings and headed out the door. She made sure that she followed the exact route she told Hayes that she was going to take. When she got home, she let out a deep breath she had been holding. A few minutes later her phone rang, it was Leven.
| Author Notes | Try and try again - who dunnit? |
By EILEEN LAW
The stench is almost unbearable, however for the workers, they have gotten used to it. They are nose blind to the smell. For the detectives in the mess, it was horrific and they all either smudged the underside of their nostrils with vaporub or they tolerated it, barely. Who would ever want to wade around in a garbage dump anyway?
Well, they had no choice. The equipment operator uncovered a body next to the fence and reported it. Now comes the messy job of cleaning it up and moving it on to the coroner. It seems this body had been there for multiple years but luckily most of the remains were still inside the garbage bag and the tarp that it was concealed inside. The bucket of the backhoe had broken the plastic and a part of an arm had escaped. Unfortunately, it was damaged as a result.
Eventually all of the surrounding garbage was sorted and the body inside its casing was sent off to the coroner. It took several weeks before the results of the autopsy were in.
It was a female approximately 20 to 25 years old, Caucasian, and she had on the remains of her clothing. After examination, it was determined that she had died of strangulation and there was no evidence of sexual activity. The body was completely examined for unknown DNA, fingerprints and her nails were scraped for the same. The tests came back inconclusive at best. The body was decayed and thankfully fairly intact due to the way it was wrapped up, it was estimated that she had died approximately 20 years before. Blood and tissue tests showed traces of chemicals that were determined to be volatiles that include dichloromethane and Chloroform.
The detectives ran a missing person's case check for the area in an 18-month period of the estimated time of death and found 3 missing persons that similarly matched their deceased. A further investigation finally narrowed it down to 2 young women. After meeting with the families, it was determined that the corpse was Cassandra Sorenson, a 24-year-old college student from Idaho Falls, Idaho. She was studying at the University of Idaho and working part time at a local coffee shop. She had an apartment not too far from the college library. She had finished her shift at the coffee shop and hadn't been seen since.
Back then, the police did interviews of her classmates, professors, friends, co-workers and her family. No one knew of anyone who had intended her harm. The family insisted that she was not a runaway and had a bright future ahead of her. Her boyfriend was also interviewed in depth and was ruled out as having anything to do with her disappearance. After a few years, the family held an in-memoriam service for her, without her body. The state declared her dead after 7 years. The case had gone cold.
Now they had to re-open the case and try to find her killer. The file included all of the original police officer's information and one of them still worked at the same precinct. She became the lead for the team. Some other officers either retired or moved away.
Officer Martin was both disappointed and thrilled to re-open her cold case. The autopsy had determined that the drugs used to incapacitate Cassandra were placed on the scarf that was found with the body. The duct tape that was wrapped around the tarp and garbage bags were sent for examination, maybe they would get lucky and be able to lift a latent print from it. The tarp and garbage bags would also be meticulously examined for any specific identifying marks or striations that may lead to the manufacturer and if lucky to the store that may have sold them.
Every person who had been interviewed needed to be re-contacted. There were many advancements in DNA research and product matching that had occurred in the years since this woman died. They may be able to find clues that before would never have been found.
It took weeks to get everything back. It was negative for fingerprints; however, they were able to prove that this person wore medical grade gloves because a small piece of blue latex had gotten stuck to the inside of a folded portion of the duct tape.
What struck Candace as curious was the methodical and careful way that the body was placed inside the wrapping. The woman's hair was tidy, and her clothing neatly in place. The wrapping of the corpse was tight and tidy. Regular and perfect folds to encase her completely. The industrial garbage bags on the outside were very neatly taped. This person seemed to almost care. Like it was important that she be carefully wrapped, not to preserve her but it felt almost like tucking a child into bed. If not for the sloppy tearing of the bag by the backhoe this package would have been perfectly preserved. As such it slowed the decay of the corpse and preserved her more than an exposed one would. This made for an easier autopsy but an unclear date of death.
One fact that seemed out of place was, if he 'cared' so much for her to take his time bundling her, why dispose of her in a garbage dump? That didn't add up for her.
Candace thought it was time to contact the other officers that worked the case with her before. She knew Johnson had retired and moved over to Colorado; she would have to get a hold of personnel to get a forwarding phone number. Branson passed away just a couple of years ago from a heart attack and, if she could recall correctly there was a young rookie that worked the case with her. She looked into the case file and found his name, Anderson. He wasn't here anymore, but she would have to find out where he was transferred to, so she could follow up with him as well.
One quick phone call and she had the number. Bozeman PD. She was quickly transferred to a detective that was working missing persons cases.
"Detective Smythe" was the answer.
| Author Notes | A different body a different time. Who did this? |
By EILEEN LAW
One last peek into the closet. That was all she needed, or so she thought. Maybe there would be more clues in there. So downstairs she went, with the puppy close on her heels.
Soon enough she had everything opened up again. She grabbed a few more folders and decided to take a deeper dive into the contents of those folders, maybe there would be more of a clue inside them.
At his desk she opened a couple more of the files. Same thing, some deeds for property registered to numbered companies, businesses purchased under other company names, the most common being Hera Enterprises. Maybe she should look into that company. Google is a great asset. After making notes on her notepad, she took these folders back to the shelf, making sure to place them back exactly as she found them.
She poked around a little more on the shelf and on the bottom right side of the shelf was a single children's book. It seemed out of place with all of the other things there. So, she took it out and opened it up.
The contents were nothing like the cover. Inside the cover of the book was a note book with notations about companies and how they are all connected. She saw a Canadian numbered company that was owned by another Washington state company and that company was owned by Hera Holdings which was a subsidiary of Hera Enterprises. The sloppy notes were scattered but somehow understandable. In red ink on the bottom of the page was a note about another company â€" a hotel chain and its head offices were in St. Louis Missouri.
Now, that was curious. She contemplated the fact that her husband was off to a symposium in the same city, for a Coroners convention and he was not yet a coroner. He had only discussed changing his field never said anything about any courses or having to attend anything before this trip. What in the world is going on here?
'Maybe I'll ask Cindra and Alistair. They own a few companies, maybe they can sort this all out.'
But how to ask without involving Mark. She wondered how to search company owners' names and thought that google may help her once again.
She looked inside the desk once more to check her husbands hand written day planner, just to see if there were any new notes for his schedule this week. When she opened the book, she saw that he had blocked off several days for St Louis. Right next to that notation was written 'Manuel?'
Maybe Manuel was meeting him there? Maybe they were both looking to change vocations. No, that can't be it, Manuel was opening a chain of medical clinics. What does this hotel chain have to do with Manuel and what does it have to do with Mark? What was with all of these companies and why did Mark have to take off out of town with what she now assumes is a false symposium?
Aliss locked the closet and the room again and took her notes up to her laptop to start her searching.
Hera Enterprises was a subsidiary of Demeter Holdings which was another company registered to 1269573 BC Ltd a Canadian holdings company registered to CVAR Holdings. CVAR was registered in the Cayman Islands. This was so confusing. Time to simplify.
She plunked in one of the company's names and found a website. That site didn't have any information about the company's owners, only staff members and company executives.
She then searched google for answers and it offered to check government registries. She did that as well and round and round this circle went. One conglomeration owned by another and another.
She was just about to give up searching when google provided one newspaper article showed up associated with one of the smaller companies attached to those she was searching. It seems that 25684-2 Alternative Inc was owned by none other than Cindra Conners. This company owned Headwaters Academy.
She sat back, cold chills running down her arms and its hair stood up on end. What the heck?! Why would Cindra buy her sons school? And if she did, why didn't she tell Aliss or Mark that she did? She had always felt a tension between Mark and his parents, did this have anything to do with that? Cindra checked the dates on the purchase and it was exactly 2 months before Mac attended the school. Now, Aliss wondered if Cindra owned the private middle school Mac was attending currently. Somehow, it wouldn't surprise her.
How was Mark involved in all of this? He always said, 'only the best my dear.' Maybe buying up all of the schools was a way to ensure that their son only got the best.
Maybe it was time to come clean to Mark and tell him everything she found out. He was her husband and she thought she could trust him. It was just so very exciting doing her own detective work. Hmm. Maybe it was time to visit Cindra and see what she could figure out without alerting her. But how?
Aliss sat back in her chair. She needed time to process and then to plan. Mark would be away for a few more days so she could take this time to visit with Cindra, ask a few vague questions.
Aliss then thought to call Janice. She was always down for a good adventure. Now that was a good idea. Between the two of them they could figure this all out. Janice had already called her and invited her out to lunch. Oh shit! Aliss had forgotten all about it and now was the time to meet.
"Hey Janice. Sorry I've been so busy lately. I see that you called. What's up?" Aliss said knowing what Janice wanted.
"Well, there you are! Too late for lunch, but I've got news! I know that Mark is out of town, can I come over? Say around 4 o'clock? I can pick up Mac on my way." Janice sounded both excited and nervous at the same time, and her voice was up half an octave.
"Uhm, yea sure. Mac will love that. I'll call the school. See you at 4."
Janice was excited and nervous. It was time to put Cindra's plan into action. Janice wasn't sure how, but she was going to get Aliss back to work at that construction company, somehow. She had to. Pleasing Cindra was top of her list. Aliss would have to be second. Things had to get done, and Janice was going to do it.
Aliss printed the article about her son's school and tucked in inside her notebook. She shut down her computer and put it away.
Goldie was whimpering to let Aliss know it was time for their walk. Aliss put on the dogs' harness, latched the leash and headed for the door. Just then the doorbell rang. It was a full half hour before she was expecting Janice, and besides if it were Janice she would just walk into the house right behind Mac.
Aliss opened the door, standing there was a man she had never seen before.
"Can I help you?" She asked.
"Good afternoon, ma'am I was wondering if you dropped this scarf? I think you dropped it last time you took your dog out for a walk."
She had never seen it before, was the last conscious thought she had.
| Author Notes | I try to create tension and to convey emotions. That is what I find most difficult. however, Aliss is doing a great sleuthing job, I think. |
By EILEEN LAW
Terry had printed off a few packets of documents. The intention was to distribute them to individual officers. The officers were all needed to follow up on the open cases. In her usual efficient and complete way, they were all clipped with quick notes on top, along with simple instructions.
Hayes took a couple of minutes to look over them, before calling in the detectives.
"All right, all right. Everyone got their coffee? Let's get settled and get started on this 'task force." Hayes was acting as if the entire task force was his idea. He paced while pulling up on his already skin tight pants.
Soon enough the group were settled and paying attention.
"Detectives Anderson, Smythe and myself have been working on a few missing persons cases. We determined that there was a connection between them all and that it's time we all did a deeper dive into each case. Not that the initial investigations weren't done well, just that there were a few loose ends that need to be zippered up. Smythe here, will update you on her most recent case discoveries and then myself and Anderson will delegate files to each of you. Let's get deep into these one's guys." He motioned to Terry. "Smythe?" He turned to her. His look was one of arrogance but also there was a hint of pleading. He needed to save face.
"Thank you Sargeant Hayes. While 'we' were looking over these files we were able to create a timeline of events." She was going to humor him for now, there really was no point to contradicting him at that moment.
"We have four women and one teen male so far. All of these missing persons are of different ages and social classes. The one common theme between them all, is their names. All are derivatives of Alexander or Alexandra. First, we need to look over our older cold case files, both missing persons and murder cases. Look for more similarities and maybe even look into some solved cases. Plus, we need to go and interview more witnesses, the ones that weren't interviewed the first time, then check out where they all went and what routines they may all have in common. Look for door cams, store video cameras, create a more detailed timeline of their last 24 hours."
At this moment Hayes, sensing she was about to hand out packets, stepped in, almost pushing her aside. He grabbed her stack of papers and started handing them out.
He plunked them down in front of different officers, "go over these files, in detail. Get to know them inside and out, get out, interview, take pictures, get more statements, bring everything back here for us all to discuss together." He paused for affect. "You've got your orders, now go." Hayes pointed at the door.
Once the room was clear, Terry turned towards Hayes. She was ready to lay into him.
Hayes raised his hand towards her, "I know it's been some effort on your part to put all of this together. But if you had brought them to me in the first place, we could have done something. Instead, you brought it to the captain." His look of anger, although justified, in his own mind, only irritated Terry.
"Now, we don't have to like each other," he continued, "we don't even have to like the way we do things, but remember, the main thing here is, we are both cops. Despite your personal opinion, I do care about my job, about protecting the innocent out there. Now, I recognize there were things that could have been done differently, but that is all said and done. Let's find a way to work as a team and figure this all out." He was a prick but he had a point.
Terry, once again, when it came to Hayes, bit her tongue. She did need his help.
"Fine Hayes," Was all she could muster.
She wasn't a dumb woman; she knew most of his blustering was to keep face with the team. The last thing he wanted was to have his female rookie outshining him or the other veterans at the precinct.
Anderson, the entire time stood back, silent and watched it all happen in front of him. Thank God, no one was blaming him directly for shoddy work. This was the moment he decided to step forward.
"I'll chase up video footage any stores may have for the times prior to the victims' disappearances. Maybe we get lucky and there is someone on a video." He didn't wait for an answer, he just left the room.
It was at that time that another cop leaned into the room and announced, "There is a Lieutenant Leven here to see you both, shall I show him in?"
"Just give us 5 minutes and then bring him in," Terry answered.
Once the door closed Hayes asked, "Who is this, Lieutenant Leven?"
"He called here about a week ago and told me about some footage of a car at a service station. The clerk there had called in a poacher's report when they noticed movement in the backseat of the car. Then later checked and found the stations security cameras had caught it on video. So, he called it in. Lieutenant Leven said it struck him as odd because most poachers won't hide their kill in the backseat of a car," She said matter-of-factly.
"He did a little digging on missing children thinking it was a parent who overstayed their visiting rights. In his search he found we had a few missing persons cases and that brought him here to us." Terry didn't include her visit to Lieutenant Leven. It was going to come up anyway.
"You took the call?" Hayes asked her, his eyes searching the room for an answer. His face changed from confused to slightly amused, "Oh, the cat. Smart answer, but still bullshit."
He was smarter than he looked. With that he actually smiled. The left side of his lip lifted just a little. He did find her both challenging and now that he had more information, quick and funny.
"Is there anything else I need to know before we let him in?" Hayes asked Terry.
"Yea, I checked him out. He is an almost retired an ex-detective from Nashville PD. He came out to Yellowstone about a year ago. I thought maybe he missed the pace from NPD and maybe that's why he looked so deeply into these cases and tried to connect them to his poacher case. He's sharp, good attention to detail and he will expect respect," Terry finished.
Without a word back to Terry, Hayes opened the door and signaled to have Leven brought in.
Leven and his perfectly ironed and polished uniform, came in. He had an instant and serious command of the room and he quickly introduced himself in a formal manner to Hayes.
"Afternoon Sargent Hayes, Detective Smythe." He nodded to both while shaking their hands.
Hayes was quick to notice that the Lieutenant was almost military in his affectations. He knew this man was none to be trifled with. He both liked him instantly and was afraid of him at the same time.
"Detective Smythe has brought me up to speed on your involvement with our cases. I am not sure there is a connection so I am surprised by your visit. Was there something that we did not know that we need to know?"
"Yes. After Detectives Smythe and Millan came to see me, I went back to the station and interviewed the clerk one more time. The clerk, a Jonas Davidson, had found something at the back of the station. He wasn't sure if it was from when the car was around back, but he kept it just in case," Leven responded.
With that Leven produced a small evidence bag and inside it, a white earbud, and on it in bright pink nail polish were the letters AZ.
| Author Notes | I write from research and from a love of true crime. It was the inspiration and the catalyst for this story. Pulling from many real killers stories and hard detective work. |
By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
He wasn't sure why exactly, maybe it was because she was upper class, but he wanted his place to look nice. Before he captured her, he fixed up the cabin a little. He cleaned up all of the garbage and put in a small fridge and a second-hand sofa. He fixed the broken window and put an old sheet over it, it was almost homey. He wanted this lover to be impressed. Heck, he didn't even touch her, other than to put her to sleep.
During the drive to the cabin, she woke up. She started to struggle in the back seat but he didn't mind.
"Shh Sandra, you're going to mess up your hair with all that fuss." He reached behind while he was driving, attempting to stroke her but he couldn't quite reach. He had made up his mind that he would take his time, she needed to understand the love he had for her and how he was going to help to set her free.
Aliss was slowly coming up from a deep fog when she realized that she was bound and gagged. There was a blanket on top of her, it smelled of old body odor and oil, the scent so strong it almost made her gag. She could hear the running of the car and felt the gentle bumps as it moved down the road. Her attempts at struggling seem to make the bindings tighter, so she stopped pulling on them. She heard him talking but couldn't quite register exactly what he was saying.
Aliss's heart was nearly pounding out of her chest, every nerve was on alive. Fear felt like a liquid fire slicking down to her core and the dizziness from what ever drug he had given her, increased along with the fear.
She had no idea where she was going, with whom or why. What Aliss did have was her mind. She knew she was going to have to calm down, fear wasn't helping. If she could calm down enough, she may be able to tap into anger, anger had always conquered her fears. Anger helped to clarify her mind and clear cobwebs away. Who the hell was he to take her without permission? There it is. Now go with it.
Aliss was usually the submissive during most of her life and relationships, but lately she had been getting stronger and more assertive. She was going to use that to get her through whatever was coming her way. He was not going to win.
It seemed like several hours had gone by when the car left the highway onto what she assumed was a gravel road. She tried her hardest to memorize the turns and twists along the way. Her arms and legs were aching from being bound into the same position for so long. Her hands were almost numb and she had a pounding headache.
It was almost another hour before the car came to a bumpy jerky stop. The driver left the car for a couple of minutes. He then came back to the trunk, opened it and moved objects out.
Aliss was slowly and gently trying to see if she could free herself from the bindings on her wrists. Her hands were bound behind her back so she couldn't see what it was, but it felt like zap straps. She had managed to free her face from the scarf with the noxious odor on it. While he was away from the car, she kicked her legs against the door as hard as she could, but there wasn't much space between her body and the door. Aliss struggled along the seat until her head came against the other door. Now maybe she would have enough space to kick her legs against the door again. Aliss wriggled enough to move from on her stomach to onto her side. This she thought may give her enough space and force to kick the door open.
Just when she was ready to kick, the cars' back door opened. This made a great opportunity to kick her captive. As hard as she could she kicked out towards the door. Thud! Her legs connected with him. This effort elicited a groan from him, but he was quick to grab the blanket and pull it out of the car, tossing it behind him. Then he grabbed her legs and pulled her towards the open door.
"Now Sandra, that wasn't nice," he spat out. "Do I need to help you to sleep again? Or will you be good?" He looked down at his prize, both disappointed and proud. She was spirited, he was going to like this.
Aliss knew that she wanted to keep herself conscious as much as possible so she settled herself down. She nodded no to him. She was surprised that he didn't bind her eyes or disguise himself. What was that look on his face? Adoration, curiosity? Was he simple minded?
Aliss decided she was going to cooperate. That way she could take the opportunity to check out her surroundings. Get some bearings and formulate an escape.
"Now, Sandra. I am going take the bindings from your legs. I want you to come with me. We are going to have a nice day at my cabin." With that he produced a large knife from his back pocket and cut her legs free. He was blocking the door and the whole while he held the knife between himself and her. There was no doubt in her mind that he would use the knife if she didn't comply.
"Why are we here? What are you going to do to me? Who are you? Where are we?" She peppered him with questions. Aliss didn't even realize it but tears were streaming down her face.
"Sandra, no more questions." He spat out the words while waving the knife. He was suddenly furious. He wasn't used to his 'dates' being awake or in some cases alive at this point. "Get the fuck out of the car!"
This was not going to be a good thing. She needed to keep him calm. She was going to have to remain as in control as she could. Pay attention and find a way out of this. As he backed up, she rose from the car. He pointed to the cabin with his knife. Just as quickly as he got angry, he was calm again.
"Go inside" he said.
Aliss thought this maybe be best time to make a run for it. And run she did. She only got a few feet before the butt of his knife connected with her temple. Down she went. The sweet surrender of unconsciousness took her.
By EILEEN LAW
Janice pulled up outside Aliss's home and noticed both that the dog was walking around the front lawn with his leash still attached and also that the front door was open.
Mac exited the vehicle and ran up to the dog.
"Hey Goldie what are you doing out here?" Was the concerned boy's question. He picked up the errant leash and headed towards the house with his now excited puppy.
Janice was already inside the front hallway when Mac and Goldie walked in behind her.
"Aliss! Hey! Your puppy got out the front door! Aliss!" Janice assumed Aliss was just distracted and left the door open.
There was no answer to any of her calls. Mac also tried calling and he ran upstairs looking for his mother.
"Aliss! Where are you!" yelled a now slightly more anxious Janice.
Mac came crashing down the stairs and headed to the basement, all the while calling for his mother.
After a thorough look through the house and a quick look in the backyard, there was no sign of her. In the kitchen Janice noticed Aliss's purse was still there, her keys on the counter beside it.
Now there was something to be concerned about. Janice grabbed her phone out of her purse and dialed.
"Cindra Conners" was the answer to the ringing.
"Hello Cindra, its Janice. Something weird has happened. I had plans with Aliss today, and I picked up Mac on the way here. When we got here the dog was in the front yard and the door was wide open. Aliss isn't here."
"Have you checked the entire house including the basement?" Cindra sat up straight, full attention.
"Yes, and her purse, cell phone and keys are here. Nothing looks out of place its like she just vanished." Janice responded with genuine concern. Aliss was her best friend.
"Have you called Mark?" Cindra responded, in practiced control.
"No, not yet" Janice said while she started pacing.
"Have you called the police? Janice, the first call should have been to Mark and then the police." Cindra was now losing patience.
"I called you first." Janice realized her mistake and knew she disappointed Cindra, again.
"Hang up and call the police. I will call Mark. Keep Mac there with you, I'll come pick him up shortly." Cindra was all business. She couldn't allow any emotions to affect her now. Direction and purpose were foremost on her mind.
-----
"Mother, what do you want?" Mark asked somewhat irritated.
"Have you heard from Aliss today?" Cindra asked her son.
"No not yet, why what has happened." He recognized the hint of concern in his mother's voice. It was faint but it was there.
"Apparently, Janice and Aliss had plans today. Janice picked up Mac from school and when she got to your house the front door was open and the dog was on the front lawn. Your wife's purse, cell and keys were still there but Aliss was not."
"Has anyone contacted the police?" Mark said as his concern rose steadily.
"Janice is on the phone with them now. I am headed to your house to be with Mac. I'll send the jet to pick you up. You need to get to the airport" Cindra instructed.
"I'll get my things and get there immediately. Call me if she shows up." Mark got off the phone and headed straight to his hotel. A couple of hours later he was on the jet headed back to his home.
-----
"911 what is your emergency?" was the perfunctory answer to the ring.
"Hello, yes, I am at my friend's house and I think she is missing. Can you send the police here?" She said and then followed with the address.
"Ma'am when did you last talk to her?" The operator asked.
"About 2 hours ago, we had plans and I came to her place to meet up with her." Janice couldn't hold her worry from her voice.
"Do you know where she could have gone?" The operator responded.
"I am not sure. Her front door was open and her dog was in the yard. I found her purse, cell and car keys here inside the house. She just isn't here." Janice was getting more and more worked up as the clock ticked away.
"What is her name?" asked the operator.
"Aliss Conners." She replied
"Have you contacted her family to see if she is with them and just left her things at home?" Operator asked.
"Listen lady. I know her. She wouldn't let that puppy out of her sight. I picked up her son from school. She was expecting me. She is missing. Now please! Send someone down here to check this out!" Janice started yelling into the phone. How many damn questions was she going to answer before they sent an officer to the house?
"Ma'am I have already dispatched an officer. I just have a few more questions while he is en route. What is your name so I don't have to call you Ma'am anymore?" Turns out the operator was pretty good at her job. Keep them on the phone until the officer arrives. That's her mandate whenever an officer is dispatched.
"Janice. I'm sorry I'm just worried about Aliss" Janice offered. Just then three vehicles pulled up. A marked police car, Cindra and an unknown plain black sedan, where a tall middle-aged man in a suit exited the car.
"Oh, the cops are here!" Janice said as she hung up the phone.
The officer took her statement while Cindra and her accompanying gentleman stood back listening. The officer asked everyone to leave the house while he took a look around. Within a few more minutes 2 more police cars pulled in. Cindra put Mac inside her car with a woman that Janice assumed was some staff member of Cindra's.
"Janice, come over here. I wish to speak to you." Cindra said to the now panicking Janice.
"This is my associate, Gary Noble. He is a private investigator. Tell him everything you know, don't leave out any details." Cindra instructed.
Janice regaled him with every minute detail she could recall. He took intense notes and asked simple but precise questions. She told him about their plans and exactly where they were going for the day.
It was then that Cindra and Gary Noble left. Janice was approached by another officer who repeated the same questions that Janice had already answered. She was getting irritated at answering them yet again.
Soon after, she was asked to follow them down to the precinct for more questioning. She wasn't happy about it, but followed them anyway.
On the drive she tried calling both Mark and her husband Manuel, neither were answering their phones.
When she walked in the front doors of the police station she was immediately ushered into a larger room with a table and 3 chairs. Shortly thereafter, a petite female detective came in followed by a larger man.
"Good afternoon, I am Sargent Hayes and this is Detective Smythe. We just have a few questions for you." Hayes said as they both entered the room.
| Author Notes | Tension builds with Janice and Cindra....Mark is on his way. Where is Aliss? |
By EILEEN LAW
When the plane touched down Mark was at the limit of anxiousness. Time had never moved so slowly in his entire life. The four-and-a-half-hour flight felt more like four and a half days. Panicking wasn't going to help. He needed control. He had learned control; it was the one thing he could count on. He scheduled every moment of his life, including his marriage. That helped him feel in control, it was comfortable.
During the flight, Mark made several calls, to his mother, his father, Janice, Manuel and to the Bozeman PD. He even called Aliss's cell phone despite being told it was at the house, just to make sure. This final call, was one of persistent pushing. The 911 operator was trying to tell him that they were already doing all they could. That was not going to do. He pushed the caller asking for a supervisor who then transferred him up until he got in touch with a Sargant Hayes. This man was at least willing to hear him out.
He was headed straight to the precinct upon landing. He made sure a car was waiting for him. It was a 20-minute drive but he did it in 12 minutes flat.
He walked into the BPD front door with strength and purpose in his stride. At the counter he firmly asked for Sargant Hayes. It took only a minute and he was ushered into a room with the Sargant and a petite plain clothed female officer.
"Dr. Conners, I'm Sargant Hayes and this is detective Smythe. We understand your wife went missing. According to our field officers we estimate she went missing around 6 hours ago. That's based on the last phone call between a Janice Arellano and your wife and the time she was noted as missing. What can you tell us about your wife's usual routines, her hobbies or work?" Hayes peppered him with questions.
Hayes's blood pressure was sky high and it showed on his bulging veins and red face. He had just gotten a call from the Governor. This perp took the fucking daughter-in-law of Governor fucking Conners.
"Sargeant Hayes, I gave these details to the operator on the phone. Understand that there will be full cooperation from myself and my family in assisting in anyway to find my wife. In the few hours since she was first reported as missing, what have you done, what is available and what are our next steps?" Mark took his trained calmness and switched his brain to a serious confident tempo. If he let his emotions rise up too high, he wouldn't be able to keep calm.
Terry stepped in front of Hayes, not caring how pissed off he would get. She looked directly at Conners, showing her capable detective side. Mark noticed.
"Dr. Conners, what is your wife's full name?" Asked Terry. She had a deep pit in her stomach telling her she already knew the answer to that question.
"Alissandra Conners, but we all call her Aliss." He looked at her with his eyebrows cinched together.
Hayes's eyes widened; he knew shit was going to hit the fan if the governor found out about the string of missing people, all with variations of her name.
Terry's stomach dropped and she almost sat down. It was rare she was scared or nervous so she steeled her spine and continued with; "Dr. Conners, I am part of a task force that has been looking into multiple missing persons from Bozeman that have disappeared over the last few months. We think your wife may be the next victim with similar circumstances. We have dispatched every available officer to assist in the search and in doing so, in finding your wife. Time is of the essence here. The best that you can do, is start calling everyone that she knows. Check to see if perhaps, she is just off doing something and forgot her purse and phone. The possibility is small, we know, but stranger things have happened. Here, at the precinct we are treating this as a high priority. If you find anything out, let us know." She purposefully left out the bit about them all having similar names. That would just make this husband even more nervous, and it just wouldn't help at all.
Mark finally knew what terror felt like. His eyes burned red with contained tears. 'Not my sweet Aliss.' He thought. It was hard for him to let anyone take the lead on anything in his life, but for now he had to let them do their job. He wasn't without resources though.
"Ok I will make the calls and keep you informed. This is my cell number, call if you find out anything. Any minor detail is important. I have considerable resources at my disposal, so don't close your wallets on this. I want my wife found, and found in one piece." Mark wasn't one to flaunt his wealth or his family and their influence. But this was one time he was going to use everything at his disposal. He meant everything.
Mark left the precinct and climbed into the limo that his mother had sent for him, leaving his car there. He gave the driver an address and started calling everyone he knew. There was no news to tell, but he wasn't surprised. On his way he called Janice one more time to check the details of the last known place and time she had contact with Aliss then he gave her an address to meet him at.
A few minutes later they were both at the Bond Agency. In the lobby Cindra was waiting.
"Mother, where is Mac?" He asked her staring her down.
"He is with your father at the house. When Alistair heard, he left the office and came home. He is calling all of his contacts and doing all he can to help. Son, let us help you. This is one time we put aside our problems and bond together. You might not believe me but we both love Aliss and want her back safe at home." Cindra showed genuine concern on her face. Despite her methods she really did just want her family intact, including Aliss.
They spent the better part of an hour appraising the private detective on all they knew about Aliss's disappearance. They made it clear that every staff member at this agency was going to be working on finding her. Expense was not an issue.
Just as they were leaving, Marks cell phone rang. An unidentified private call. He answered the phone.
"Hello?" he answered with his heart in his throat.
A faint whisper, "Mark?" followed by deep breathy sounds.
| Author Notes | What does a husband do when his wife disappears? Especially when money is no object |
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