Forgotten (9 page)

“Well, yes, you’d expect him to attempt to use his own abuse as part of his defense, but he never did. He was a very odd study, Agent Cahill. Very odd.”

She reached for a pad of paper and wrote a note to herself.
Ask Cannon if Woods had ever mentioned that he’d been abused.

“Woods had an older brother if I remember correctly,” she recalled. “Could he have been the abuser?”

“It’s possible. I think the brother left home when he was sixteen and lived with a relative until he graduated from high school and enlisted in the Navy. Woods once made some offhand comment about his brother having been embarrassed by him and leaving town.”

“Embarrassed…?”

“By Sheldon’s antics. Sheldon began exposing himself to younger boys when he was about ten or eleven—often the first step toward aggressive sexual behavior. His acting out escalated quickly.

By the time he was twelve, he was already sexually abusing kids from the neighborhood.”

“I read about that. He’d been picked up a few times but got off with a slap on the wrist time after time.”

“Parents didn’t want to press charges because they were afraid it would stigmatize or traumatize the victims.” Rollins snorted. “As if those kids hadn’t been traumatized already.”

Portia opened her mouth to comment, but before she could speak, Rollins said, “Douglas. That was the brother. Douglas Nicholson.”

“Different father?” Portia raised an eyebrow.

“Mama was a rolling stone,” Rollins quipped. “Or so I’d heard. Married a number of times.”

“So it’s very possible that the abuser could have been a stepfather.” To her previous note, she added,
Who was Woods’s stepfather when he was twelve?

“It’s certainly possible.”

“Any other siblings, half siblings, stepsiblings, besides Douglas?”

“I was never really clear on that,” Rollins admitted. “There was always a question in my mind that there may have been another brother. Or there might have been a sister. He was always very vague when it came to his family.”

“Wouldn’t that make you wonder if perhaps his own abuse was at the hands of a relative?”
Ask Cannon about siblings.

“It so often is, yes.”

“Where is the mother now, do you know?”

“She was living in Vegas back then, but who knows where she might be now. You’d have better luck tracking down the brother.”

“Good point. He’s more likely to have kept the same last name.”
Track the mother—maybe Las Vegas?—and brother.
“Did you ever speak with him? The brother?”

“Oh, yes. At least, I tried to. He wanted nothing to do with Sheldon. Or his mother, for that matter. Told me he’d had no contact with anyone in his family after he left home and had no interest in discussing anyone related to him.”

“I wonder if anyone actually interviewed him,” Portia thought aloud.

“Someone did, maybe John. I do recall seeing something in the file but there was no substance to it, nothing that would give us a picture into their home life or the relationships within the family. The brother clearly burned his bridges and never looked back.”

“I haven’t come across that report, but I’ll look again.”
Ask John if he interviewed Douglas Nicholson—if so, where is the report?
“I’ll see if I can track him down. Maybe after all these years, Douglas might be willing to talk a little more.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

“Thanks for speaking with me, Dr. Rollins. I appreciate your time.”

“Not at all. It was one of those cases you never forget. I have to admit I’ve thought about Sheldon Woods many times since I left the Bureau.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“It isn’t often you have an opportunity to get up close and personal with the devil, Agent Cahill. I’d seen a lot of really nasty people, but I never came across anyone who came close to equaling Sheldon Woods’s level of depravity.” Rollins cleared his throat. “The best advice I can give you is, if you have to deal with the man, keep your distance. Don’t let him get to you, don’t let him ever see that anything he says or does has gotten to you. He’ll see any show of emotion as a weakness, and he’ll be more than happy to use it against you. Everything is a big game to him.”

“I’m not planning on having any more to do with him.”
Not, at least, until I’ve identified my lost boy and I see Woods’s ass prosecuted.
“And I have no intention of playing any of his games.”

“Man plans, God laughs, as the saying goes,” Rollins said softly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Portia frowned.

“It means that, when it comes to Sheldon Woods, you may not have a choice. If he wants to play with you, he’ll find a way to make you take part in the game. Whether you want in or not, if it’s in his best interest, he’ll find a way.”

TEN

“H
ow did it go?” Portia poked her head through John’s doorway. She knew he’d been at the Williams home that morning and had just heard him come in. “Is Mrs. Williams all right?”

“She was very grateful, very relieved,” John said as he tossed his lightweight suit jacket on the back of a chair. “Lisa, her daughter, is already making arrangements with their local funeral parlor to have Christopher’s remains transferred to Palmer. They want to have a memorial service as soon as possible.”

“Is Mrs. Williams up for that?”

“I asked her the same question. She said after all these years, she would bury her son if it was the last thing she did on this earth.” John grimaced slightly. “I’m afraid it just might be, but the woman is certainly entitled after all she’s gone through. She’s an exceptional woman, very strong emotionally, even in her frail state. She did request that everyone who took part in the recovery be invited to the cemetery.” He started sorting through the phone messages that Eileen had piled on his desk. “I’d like you to plan to attend.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be there. Maybe I should call the chief of police in Oldbridge and see if she and her techs would like to be there as well. They’re the ones who actually recoverd the remains.”

“Excellent idea. Go ’head and make that call.”

“I’ll do it right now.” She waited to see if he was going to add anything else. When he did not, she said, “By the way, did you happen to meet with Sheldon Woods’s half brother, Douglas Nicholson, at some point either before or after Woods was arrested?”

“Yes, I did. After the arrest.” John looked up from the notes he’d separated from the pile. “Why?”

Portia filled him in on the previous evening’s conversation with Dr. Rollins.

“There was no love lost between him and his half brother, I can tell you that.” John moved the stack of messages aside and rested his forearms on the desk. “It was all I could do to get the man to admit they were related.”

“Dr. Rollins suspects that Woods was abused by someone in his family,” Portia said from the door way. “Any chance it might have been Nicholson?”

John shook his head. “Highly unlikely. When I say Nicholson wanted nothing to do with Sheldon, I mean nothing. Didn’t want to hear about him, didn’t want to know about him. Said the guy disgusted him and as far as he was concerned, Sheldon didn’t exist.”

“That could be his way of denying that he’d molested Sheldon. Maybe that’s why he wanted to put so much distance between them. If he had been the abuser, maybe he thinks he’s responsible for what Sheldon became.”

“Possible, of course, but not probable. I really never got that vibe from him at all. He knew about Sheldon’s arrest, of course, it made national news because it was so horrific, but he said he wasn’t a bit shocked. Said Sheldon was a creepy little kid and it was no surprise that he’d grown up to be a creepy little adult, and that’s all he had to say about his half brother.”

“What about the mother?” Portia asked. “What did he say about her?”

“Very little. He said when he left home, he left that part of his life behind him. Period. He had nothing more to say about any of them, actually.

My notes should be in the file.”

“I couldn’t find them, so I thought I’d come right to the source. Fortunately, the source was only a few offices away.”

“Sorry I can’t help you more, but Nicholson really didn’t want to talk about his family.”

“I’m going to try to track him down anyway. Maybe now that so many years have passed he’ll be a little more open.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” At the same moment Portia turned for her office, Eileen called out to her.

“Agent Cahill, the warden from Arrowhead Prison is on the line for you.”

“Really?” Portia frowned.

“Line seven,” Eileen told her.

“Take it in here.” John gestured to his desk phone.

Portia came back into the room and leaned across the desk for the receiver.

“This is Agent Cahill,” she said.

“Agent Cahill, this is Warden Sullivan out at Arrowhead. One of our prisoners has requested that I get in touch with you.”

“Oh, let me guess who that could be…”

“Yes, I’m sure it’ll be a stretch.”

“I don’t have anything else to say to Sheldon Woods, Warden.”

“Funny, he said you’d say that. He told me to tell you that he might be willing to make another deal for something else that you might want.”

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered under her breath.

“What’s that?”

“I’m not at all surprised.”

“What would you like me to tell the inmate?”

“Tell him I’m busy and I’ll get to him when I can.”

“He asked me to try to get you in here this afternoon before three.”

“Oh, did he now?” Portia grinned at John and shook her head.
Do you believe this guy?
“Well, you tell him I might make it by tomorrow after noon if I can fit him in.”

“I’ll do that, Agent Cahill. What time should we look for you?”

“Let’s make it around one.”

“He’ll miss his exercise hour outside.” Sullivan sounded as if the prospect didn’t bother him a bit.

“Tough. He wants to talk to me, he’ll do it at my convenience.”

“I like the way you think, Agent Cahill,” the warden said. “I sure do. I’ll give Inmate Woods the message.”

“Thank you, Warden. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Portia returned the handset to the cradle.

“What do you think he’s up to?” John asked.

“I think he’s going to want to make another deal. Something he wants for something I want.”

“The identity of the second boy in the grave?”

Portia nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking.”

“What do you think he wants from us?” John frowned.

“I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow after noon to find out,” she replied with a shrug. “In the meantime, I’m going to see if I can track down Doug Nicholson.”

“See if Will can help you,” John suggested.

“Will’s out of town for a few days,” she reminded him.

“Oh. Right. Well, try Jim Cannon.” He turned back to the file he’d been reviewing. “He might have some thoughts on that. Oh, and tell him about the memorial for the Williams boy. It was good of him to give up his time to make sure that Woods went through with the deal last week. He should be given the option of attending.”

“D
oug Nicholson?” Cannon repeated the name after Portia explained the reason for her call. “I don’t know that I ever had an address or phone number for him, but I can take a look in my files and call you back.”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you. My cell is…”

“I have it from the last time you called.”

“Right. Well, just let me know if you find some thing.”

“Will do.” He paused. “Would I be out of line asking why you want to speak with Woods’s half brother?”

“Not at all. I’m just looking for some back ground information, that’s all.”

“Something I might have?”

“I don’t know.” Portia stood and peeked through the blind on her office window. She had a great view of a leafy branch of the adjacent magnolia tree, long out of bloom. “Do you know who might have molested Woods as a child?”

“Whoa.” He laughed awkwardly. “That came right out of left field. What’s that all about?”

“Last night I spoke with Dr. Rollins—the profiler who handled the case for the Bureau back then. He suggested that very possibly Sheldon Woods had been abused as a child and therefore grew up to be an abuser.” She dropped the blind—the sun was blazing hot even through the partial shade of the tree. “I was wondering who the abuser was, and I thought it was interesting that Woods didn’t use this as part of his defense.”

“Not that it would have made any difference. The bottom line is that he admitted to having raped and killed thirteen boys. Fourteen, if you want to count Christopher Williams. There isn’t any reason good enough to make that anything other than what it was.”

“I’m not arguing that fact. I happen to agree that there’s no excuse for what he did. I’m just curious about the family, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Why?” she repeated. “I guess I’m just trying to complete the picture.”

“Woods barely spoke about his family. The brother never came to court, and the mother, only a few times.”

“What was she like?”

“She reminded me of an aging showgirl. Think dyed, very black hair. False eyelashes. Heavy makeup. A dress fifteen years too young and a couple of sizes too small. She might have been pretty once upon a time, but she looked like she’d led quite the life. Hard to tell her age, but Woods was in his thirties back then. I remember thinking that she was very young when she had Woods. Would have been younger still when she had Douglas—he’s about three years older than Sheldon. I’m guessing she must be in her late fifties to midsixties by now. She was sort of full blown, if you know what I mean.”

“Sort of. How did she and Sheldon interact?”

“I didn’t see any interaction between them at all. Except for a few exchanged looks.”

“What kind of looks? Dirty looks? How would you characterize the expressions?”

“Again, tough to say. Maybe a just little on the smug side from him. Disdainful from her.”

“Odd choice of words,” she remarked.
“Smug. Disdainful.”

“Those are the words that came to mind. He definitely looked unapologetic. She looked like she wanted to toss out a few
tsk-tsks
in his direction. I can promise you that my mama would have had more than a
tsk
or two for me under those circumstances.”

“Like I said, odd, but we’ll go with that for now.” She made a note of his observations and penciled in
ODD
in large block letters. “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know who Woods’s stepfather was when he was around twelve, would you?”

“I don’t. He never mentioned anything about his childhood to me. Just wasn’t interested in discussing it. You’re wondering if the stepfather was the one who abused him? If in fact he had been abused.”

“It seems a logical place to start. And you don’t have a record of any siblings or half siblings other than Douglas?”

“Nothing off the top of my head, but I can check back over my notes to see if there’s something there.”

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Oh—before I forget—have you heard back from the ME in Maryland who was examining the remains?”

“Yes. It was Christopher Williams. John went to meet with Mrs. Williams and her daughter this morning.”

“How’d she take the news?”

“He said it went well. They were very grateful for everyone’s efforts. We’ve all been invited to a memorial for Christopher, by the way.” She paused. “That would include you.”

“Any idea when that will be?”

“Later this week sometime. I can give you a call when I find out.”

“I’d appreciate it. I might have to move some things around on my schedule, but I would like to be there.”

There was an awkward silence. Portia broke it by saying, “One more thing you might be interested in. I got a call from the warden at Arrowhead a little while ago. Sheldon has requested my presence at the prison ASAP. I told him I’d stop in tomorrow afternoon if I could work it into my schedule.”

“That little shit had the warden call you and ask you to come in tomorrow?”

“Actually, he wanted me there today, but I didn’t see any reason to jump on his say-so.”

“What do you think he wants?”

“The message I got was that he was willing to make a deal for something I might want.”

“The name of the second boy?”

“I’m hoping.”

“Well, last time we talked, you were determined to find out who that kid was. Now you won’t have to waste any more of your time trying to match him up, so you should be happy that he called.”

“I’m not happy to have to spend any more time in his presence, but I am looking forward to being able to give the boy a name and return him to his family.” She fell silent. “He was such a little thing.”

“Hopefully, by this time tomorrow, you’ll be able to cross one more name off your list.”

“Yes. I’m looking forward to it.”

“What do you suppose he wants this time?” Cannon asked.

“Maybe more of the same. He really seemed to enjoy riding that horse.”

“You didn’t stick around for the full hour. I’m telling you, he was enjoying that ride a whole lot more than I was comfortable with.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that he was just way too happy the whole time. Grinning from ear to ear…it was pretty sickening. And if you want to know the truth, it pissed me off to know that I’d had a hand in making him that happy.”

“Is there any consolation in knowing that he gave up more than he got?”

“I am happy for the Williams family,” he conceded. “Look, I have to run, gotta be in court in thirty minutes. I’m glad to hear that the Williams family is able to put this to rest. I’m sure it makes Mrs. Williams’s burden lighter.”

In the background, Portia could hear papers shuffling, and thought maybe he was putting some thing into his briefcase.

“Thanks for your time, Jim. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know when the memorial for Christopher is going to be held.”

“Great. Thanks. And I’ll let you know if we’re able to come up with any info on Nicholson. In the meantime, if you can think of anything else I might be able to help you with…”

“Sure. I’ll give you a call.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes,” she said, not quite sure how she felt about that. “I suppose you will.”