Fancy Gap (17 page)

“I hope we’ll have that information tomorrow, and I agree, Tim, that we need all the help we can get. We’ll see y’all tomorrow. Please call me if you get too many people knocking at your door, trying to get an interview.”

“We’ve been lucky so far, sheriff. We’ll call if people start finding us.”

“OK, Tim that should work. I’ll call you if anything else breaks.”

“Thank you, sheriff. See you tomorrow.”

Tim filled Susan and Mary in on what was going to happen. They discussed the media frenzy that was in the making. They understood too well the voracious American appetite for sordid tragedies. The sadness of this deficiency in the national psyche was about to come home and roost on their collective shoulders.

“Tim, please give me your phone.” She looked at the card in her hand.

“Who are you calling?” Tim asked.

“I’m calling the lady we met at church who led us to that Devil’s Den place. I overheard her talking to the sheriff, and she told him that just she retired from the FBI. I want to invite her and the man she was with—I think his name was Quinn—to be with us at church tomorrow evening. She struck me as a good Catholic and a very nice person.”

Tim nodded his head in agreement. Susan dialed Louisa’s number.

“Hello, this is Louisa.”

“Louisa, this is Susan Preston. Is this a good time for us to talk?”

“Yes, yes, by all means, Susan.”

“Did you see Pete’s picture on TV?”

“ We did, Susan. It’s just terrible. Quinn and I couldn’t believe it when we saw it on the evening news.”

Susan started to sob. “Louisa, Father Tony is having a prayer service for us tomorrow night at church. Tim and I would like you and Quinn to be there with us. We don’t have any friends here and would really like to have you pray with us.”

“Oh, Susan, of course we can be there. What time does it start?”

“Father Tony is having us over at five for dinner. We’ll go to the church after. I think six o’clock probably would be best.”

“Susan, we’ll be there at six. Is there anything else?”

“Well, actually, there is. The sheriff is having a press conference at the government center tomorrow at one o’clock. I guess TV people from all over will be there.”

“I’m not surprised,” Louisa answered.

“Do you think you and Quinn could be there with us?”

Louisa didn’t see that coming but knew what she had to say. “Susan, I really would like to, but…I can’t. And neither can Quinn. This is a very sensitive time for the sheriff and the state police. They don’t need the press picking up on the fact that Quinn and I are involved in the investigation in any way, shape, or form. We’ll be happy to help you and Tim in any way we can, but we have to keep out of this investigation. Do you understand?”

Susan replied, “Of course, I understand. That makes sense.”

“Good, we can talk about it when we see you at church tomorrow night,” Louisa told her.

“Thanks, Louisa. See you then.”

Susan hung up and gave the phone back to Tim.

Mary said, “I called Rob Larson at Larson’s Funeral Home at home and filled him in on what happened. He’ll make all the arrangements once we know when Pete can be moved. There are direct flights on Delta from Greensboro to Detroit if you don’t think we should drive.”

Susan looked at Tim. “I think we need to fly because we need to get back here as soon as we can,” she told him.

“Honey, I agree. Mary, we’re going to lean on you to take care of a lot of this while we’re dealing with the press and the police,” Tim said.

“Not to worry. I’ve got help from friends and family in Detroit. I’ll make all the arrangements,” Mary said as she took Tim’s hand and gave him a hug. They both started crying.

* * *

Monday morning started early at the sheriff ’s department. The M.E. had called Sheriff Pierce late Sunday night. The sheriff was already at his desk when the M.E. arrived at seven.

“Cup of my best coffee, Doc?” Sheriff Pierce asked.

“By all means, my friend, and make it strong. It’s been a long twenty or so hours. The good news is that we have preliminary facts you can work with. Frank, the boy was strangled to death. We recovered threads of the white rope that was probably used.

However, he also had a severe gash at the bottom of his skull. It looks like he fell backwards into an object with a sharp edge. That probably knocked him out, but he was still alive at that point. Soon thereafter he was strangled with the rope. Interestingly enough, Frank, the killer tightened the noose just enough to kill the child. He didn’t want to make a mess of the boy’s neck.”

“Was he sexually molested?” the sheriff asked.

“No, Frank, he wasn’t. There was no evidence of anal penetration. His penis was cut clean off at its base. I just don’t know what to make of that.

The child had been fed and bathed during his captivity. That tells me that the killer planned to keep him alive for some time. No evidence of physical abuse or marks from struggles. We checked his body for any skin or hair that wasn’t his and found nothing under his fingernails or anywhere else. Totally clean.

The wrists and ankles had abrasions from the wire used to hold the body to the grate. We’re analyzing the wire in the lab. It looks the common variety you can buy at any hardware store.”

“So, Doc, in the end, the child was strangled to death with a white rope?”

“Frank, I think our analysis will show it was a smooth cord as opposed to rough twine you would fine in common rope. My bet is that what we recovered will match up with filaments from a sash that’s used to, say, tie curtains.”

Just as he finished, the door to the sheriff ’s office opened. “Gentlemen, good morning to you both,” said Libby Thomas, chairperson of the Carroll County Board of Supervisors, as she took the chair next to Dr. Kahn. She had served on the county board for several years and had been chairperson for the past two years. She was a successful businesswoman who came from old Carroll County money. Her family owned the largest agricultural operation in the area. She was known for her legendary short fuse and didn’t suffer fools gladly.

“Sheriff, what do we know on this not-so-fine Monday morning?” Libby asked, unsmiling.

“I’ll let the good doctor tell you what we have as of right now,” the sheriff replied.

Dr. Kahn briefed her on all the information he had just given the sheriff. She slumped down a bit in her chair as he went through the details.

“Sheriff, how is the poor family taking all of this?” she asked as she shifted her gaze to him.

“As best as can be expected under such horrible circumstances. I’ve tried my best to be transparent with them and offer as much support as I can. When they told me they’re Catholic, I introduced them to Father Tony at the Catholic Church on the Parkway. He’s been very supportive, and they’re comfortable with him.”

“What progress is being made in the investigation?” she continued.

“Libby, to be brutally frank, there isn’t much to go on. We recovered a good semen sample near the motel, but nothing has matched up in the national database search. The Surry County Sheriff ’s Department passed along a tip that one of their sexual perverts might have been in Fancy Gap the night of the abductions. Unfortunately, he’s gone missing. His mother, who is the snitch, thinks he’s hiding out somewhere in West Virginia. There haven’t been any calls or credit card charges to follow up on.”

“Who do you think took that horrible picture?” she asked them both.

The sheriff answered first, “I don’t think it was one of ours. We checked with the hikers who found the body. We checked their phones and phone records and didn’t find anything that would link them to taking or sending the picture. The lab folks are analyzing the picture to see if they can tell exactly what time of day the picture was actually taken.”

“Any other good news to share?” she asked sarcastically.

Neither the sheriff nor the M.E. responded.

“OK, my friends, let’s deal with our immediate realities. We have one dead child, killed by a fucking pervert who still has the little girl. There is nothing to go on. No suspects in the immediate area. A possible suspect maybe hiding in West Virginia. So you really don’t have shit. You don’t have to be genius to figure that out.

What we do have is a pack of rabid press wolves descending on our little piece of southwest Virginia, intent on eating our asses. There aren’t many days until our flea market and gun show gets under way, and let me fill you in on what’s happening. I’ve gotten calls from some of the hotel managers, who say they have families who have cancelled already. People say there’s no way they’re coming here when there’s a killer on the loose.

Gentlemen, do you get the drift? Frank, your folks and the state police need to step up your investigation. I don’t have to tell you what the flea market means to all of us. It’s our gold mine. We need our normal five hundred thousand visitors to show up and spend their money. If people are scared, they’ll stay home, and we can’t afford that.”

The sheriff sat still for a long minute before he spoke. “Libby, I’ve lived through more flea markets than I care to remember. I understand the impact it has on our economy.”

“So, what are we going to do, Frank? What’s your plan to catch this miserable son of a bitch?”

“Jim Craig is checking with his boss at the state police headquarters in Richmond to see what kind of a reward he can shake out of that tree. We have about five thousand dollars in our reward fund.”

Libby smirked, “Frank, you know as well as I do that five thousand dollars won’t get us jack. People need real incentive to get involved. Let’s say we offer fifty thousand dollars. How would that work, gentlemen?”

The sheriff smiled. “Great, but where in the heck will we get that kind of money?”

“Let me worry about that, Frank. All you need to do is announce at the press conference that we’re offering a fifty-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to the return of the little girl and an arrest. We need information, and we need it fast. Maybe some big money will shake some information out of someone. Someone must know something or suspect something. Money talks, Frank.”

“Let’s get something straight, Libby. I’ll be happy to make the announcement about a reward as long as there’s a fifty-thousand-dollar reward to give if someone provides information we can use. We can’t bullshit the public on this,” the sheriff countered.

“Frank, you worry about getting the information, and I’ll make darned sure we come up with the cash if we need to pay somebody.”

Dr. Kahn had been silent through the whole exchange. He knew that Libby could get that kind of money in a heartbeat and that she was supporting the sheriff in his reelection campaign. The sheriff was nobody’s fool. He understood the impact on the local economy if this year’s flea market crashed and burned. He also knew that the while most of the voters approved of Sheriff Pierce’s performance, they might vote for another candidate if the little girl wasn’t found and the killer brought to justice.

“Frank, not to worry. I’ll back Libby up on this and guarantee that the reward money will be available if you need it.”

The sheriff smiled a tepid smile.

* * *

During the past four days, he had tried to spend as much time as he could with Katie. She liked Cocoa Puffs for breakfast. They watched movies in the afternoon, and he read to her at night. She didn’t ask for her parents or brother very often anymore, and this pleased him. He was feeling more and more like the parent he had dreamed of being.

All of that was robbed from him long ago. They should have let him follow his passions. But they didn’t, and now, as a long time ago, he crashed through the window of sanity into the morass of insanity. Nightmares of those he had loved in the past haunted him enough to keep him from the abyss of deadly love that so fed his desire to kill. He had learned from past mistakes.

Every detail was planned to the second of execution. Nothing was left to chance. He had made serious mistakes only once and paid dearly for his stupidly. It had taken years of planning and severe abstinence. His fantasies carried him through years of living a successful and normal life that gave no indication of his deeply hidden lust for forbidden affection. He had inched so close to the line, only to pull himself out of a headlong dive into the hellhole of emotional abandon. He lunged at the last straws of self-control that saved those around him from his deadly ways.

“Why are you my new Daddy now?” Katie asked him as she sucked on the lollipop he had given her.

“Sweetie, your mommy and daddy died when that motel burned down. They asked me to take care of you and your brother. Pete got sick and died too. Now there’s only you and me. I love having you as my daughter.”

Katie looked at him with as much skepticism as her five-year-old brain could process. She understood that if she was happy, that made him happy. She knew he hit Pete when Pete got mad. She didn’t want to get him mad and get hit. She understood the correlation. She was a smart little girl.

“Katie, it’s getting late, and you have to take your bath. We can watch a movie on our new iPad while we’re in our tub. And if you’re a good little girl, you can have some ice cream before you go to bed.”

He started to fill the tub with warm water.

He then started the hidden video camera to record what he needed to see after she was gone.

He was alive in his fantasy.

“Rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub.

Rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub.

Now time for the tub,” he repeated as he filled the tub.

Suddenly Katie said, “I want my Barbie and Ken dolls!”

“Katie, we don’t have Ken and Barbie here. They’re gone.”

“If you’re my new daddy and you love me, you’ll get me a new Barbie and Ken. I want you to take me shopping with you.” She started to cry.

This took him by surprise. He wanted her to be happy so he could be happy, at least for the time being. “Sweetie, if you stop crying, we can go shopping tomorrow. It’s too late tonight. All the stores are closed.”

She looked at him and smiled a little smile and stopped crying. He picked her up and gently set her down in the tub. He stepped in beside her. The warm water soothed his naked body.