Turtle Island (29 page)

Anna continued reading the diary to the intense silence of the
detective and the reporter.

‘I need confirmation.’ Leroy said to the FBI forensic
agent.

‘No trouble, Mr LaPortiere. Do you have a PC with Internet
access?’

Leroy stared at the PC on Rick's desk. He done his utmost to
avoid learning or using computers but knew enough to get on line
and access the Net's seamier side.

‘Yeah. Send down the information.’ Leroy gave Agent Wells his
e-mail address and sidled over to Rick’s desk and powered up the
machine.

An electronic voice prompt shouted POST as soon as the browser
kicked in. Leroy guided the cursor to his electronic mailbox and
opened it. Then waited for the download to begin.

‘You have 314 messages.’ Computers could be sarcastic when
they wanted to be. Leroy’s backlog of unopened mail was entirely of
his own doing. He groaned. ‘Oh man, I don’t need this shit.’ He
scanned down the list. Half the e-mails were from people he had
never heard of, some were from dubious Internet sites. The rest
were work related but non-important. Everyone knew if they had
anything-important dealing with a case, never to send it to Leroy
via e-mail. The FBI’s e-mail had not yet arrived. Leroy started
opening his post, the first message was from an unknown sender or
at least an e-mail address he didn’t recognise. It was from a
prisoner in the state pen that Leroy had caught and convicted of
robbery with intent to endanger life and property. Leroy remembered
the case. The man had tried to rob a gas station before flooding
the forecourt and one of the sales assistant’s with gasoline, only
he had used the diesel line. Leroy shot the man in the knee. He
opened the message and read it.

Hope you die a painful death, motherfucker

‘Huh, fan mail.’ Leroy chuckled to himself unfazed by the
message. He continued opening all sorts of messages some with
attached files, others that were no more than blatant advertising.
His mind began to go numb with the banality of it all. As he opened
his one hundred and third message he was quite unprepared for the
shock that greeted him. An anonymous e-mail which the sender had
obviously taken a lot of time and trouble in removing any traceable
aspects.

‘Let’s face it, you have no idea who I am. I could be sitting
next to you. I could have been in the church today watching you all
scrabble about for answers. I could be cutting all their little
heads off…the boy has such soft skin. Cuts very easy. She tastes
nice. I have kissed her more than twice and when drugged, my
fingers found her oh so, so...accommodating. The stupid fuck of a
detective is such a disappointment though...Enjoy the photos. See
you real soon’

Leroy opened an attached file expecting to see pictures of
Rick and his wife and son but all there was, was a web address. He
ran the cursor over the text hyperlink, clicked and was taken to a
web site. A black background appeared, followed by an animated
splash of red across the screen. Then four Polaroid’s began to
download on to the screen. Three of them faces Leroy knew very
well. The forth a photograph of Korjca taken soon after she had
been killed. A Wav file began to transfer. Leroy picked up the
phone and dialled an internal number.

‘Captain Frusco.’ Leroy waited while Frusco's secretary put
him through.

‘Sir I've got something I think you should see.’

'I called Mama last night. I know she misses me, though she
will not say so to me. She worries needlessly that I have not
settled but nothing could be further from the truth. Ray is a
lovely boy and very easy to look after, though the first three or
four weeks were a struggle. Jo-Lynn is so nice. At the weekend they
took me to a country park and we camped in a trailer until Monday
evening. Everyone had such a good time.

March 10. Something strange happened today. I had dropped Ray
off to school and returned home for a bath. One thing I think I
shall not get used to is the hot weather. The doorbell rang, as I
was about to get in so I put on a robe and went downstairs to
answer. A young man was standing at the door looking very anxious.
Very nervous. I took the small bottle of mace from the hall table
before opening the door. He said he wanted to see Detective
Montoya. All the time he kept looking over his shoulder. I could
feel his unease but was weary of letting him in, so I told him that
Mr Montoya was out at work. He said tell Detective Montoya that
Stephen England called. In the evening when Mr Montoya returned
from work I told him of his caller and he became agitated, telling
me to forget that I had seen the man.

March 11. There is great excitement. A body has been found in
the river. Talk at the school from the mothers and nannies, is that
whoever he was, he was murdered. I know Rick is working on the case
but he doesn't talk about it to me. Though everybody on Turtle
Island seems to know something or have a different
story.’

Anna took another sip from the glass. She knew there was
another six months of entries to plough through of varying lengths.
Occasionally she would glance up and study both the detective and
the reporter’s face for reaction, both seemed to be deeply
engrossed. Apart from the occasional mention of family members,
Anna felt she was reading the diary of a stranger. Georgina shifted
on her chair; she looked at her watch. Anna had been reading for
about an hour and a half and moved through months of a fairly
detailed record of her sister’s life. ‘Would you mind if I had a
break for a few minutes please?’ Anna asked

‘Of course not. I could do with a break myself.’ Georgina
said, standing and stretching her legs.

Barbara switched off the tape recorder.

Georgina felt the rush of excitement when Anna mentioned
Stephen England in Korjca’s diary. She saw that Dace recognised the
name too, and fought hard not show that she spotted the connection.
This was their first real break.

Frusco was leaning over Leroy's shoulder staring at a computer
screen. He chewed on his thumbnail, pulling away a bitten piece of
nail and biting down on it. ‘Can we trace him through the internet
provider?’

‘This page will have certain traceable aspects but they can be
falsified. Also, in the scheme of things, if he wants to hide
himself, which I’m sure he does, then this page is a thousand times
smaller than a needle and the Internet is a million times larger
than the proverbial haystack.’

‘Damn.’ Frusco pushed himself away from the back of Leroy's
chair, which he was leaning on. ‘One way or another we're going to
get this fucker and nail his sorry ass.’

‘There's also a wav file.’

‘A what?’

‘It downloaded automatically. Some sort of sound
file.’

‘Can we play it?’ Frusco sat back against the edge of Leroy's
desk.

‘Yeah.’ Leroy reduced the current screen and opened a wav
player.

A virtual hi-fi appeared on the screen. Leroy clicked on open
file and searched through his hard drive for the downloaded file.
It had automatically saved as Torture.wav. He double clicked the
file and pressed the play button once the file had loaded in the
player. The voice was slowed, distorted, but coherent.

‘You are so slow. So far behind me. I have given you all the
clues, all the chances you need.’ The sound of someone screaming
ended the file. Leroy closed the file and returned to the main
screen with images of Korjca and the earlier victims.

‘Can we work on the message to get rid of the voice
distortion?’

‘I don't know. It's in digital form so I guess that it’s
possible.’

‘Send a copy to voice analysis.’ Frusco picked up his coffee.
‘Fuck technology! It was easier in my day; these sickos just used
to send you bits of bodies. You knew where you stood.’

Leroy ran the cursor over the image of Korjca with her throat
cut. The pointer changed to a hand indicating a link to another
page or web site. ‘Shit.’ He double clicked and a page started to
download.

WELCOME TO DEATHCAM. Your chance to watch a killer doing what
he does best…

Underneath the melodramatic headline was a list of familiar
names starting with Max Dalton, Korjca Piekarska and finishing with
Stephen England by the column of names was another line that said
'LIVE DEATHCAM'. Leroy guided the pointer to it and double clicked
the mouse. The screen went blank as the browser started to search
for the page. The arrow cursor changed once more to an egg
timer.

‘What’s happening?’ Frusco asked impatiently.

The screen started to fill with images, like a jigsaw, one
piece at a time. First the headline, then the text and finally what
appeared to be a live feed to a water filled basement. Leroy read
the headline.

TWO DAYS TO GO. Be witness to America’s first public execution
in over a hundred years. Vote now who gets it first. THE BOY, HIS
MOTHER, or HIS FATHER.

Click on the person of your choice.

There was a counter under each name and an accompanying
photograph. The counter had already fifty thousand ‘hits’ against
Jo-Lynn’s name and a similar figure against the other
two.

‘Oh my God.’ Frusco visibly paled. In the corner of the main
screen his eyes were drawn to some movement. The picture was not
too clear but clear enough for him to tell who it was. Jo-Lynn’s
head could be seen emerging from the dark, peering nervously toward
something to her right.

May 13th. The arguments go on until late in the night. I hear
them but in the morning Mr and Mrs Montoya act as though nothing
has happened. Little Ray sleeps through it all. The workmen arrived
today to start digging the pool. I think one of them has taken a
liking to me. He is not too shy. He stares at me quite unashamedly.
I wish he would ask me out. I need to get a life outside of
here.

The more Georgina heard from the diary, the more she realised
its importance. A much clearer picture was beginning to
form.

Anna read on.

‘May 14th. A man called today. I don’t know why but I took an
instant dislike to him. It was very early in the morning, but Mrs
Montoya was already on her way to work and Mr Montoya had been
working all night, another body has been found. People are becoming
very afraid. The man barged his way into the house claiming to be a
friend of Mr Montoya. His eyes were all over me. He said ‘Tell
Rick, Charles, needs to speak urgently at his office.’ As he left
he ran his hand across my back. He smiled an awful sneer and licked
his lips. I was too ashamed to tell Mr or Mrs Montoya of his
behaviour but gave Jo-Lynn the message when she got home. She
seemed upset.

15th May. We are having a barbeque on Saturday. I am very much
looking forward to it.

Leroy placed the cursor over the picture of Max Dalton and
clicked. A grainy film started. There was no sound, just the image
of Dalton tied to a chair in a basement. Somebody dressed from head
to foot in black, from a ski mask down to black gloves, was walking
in front of the camera, barely visible in the gloomy interior. The
camera zoomed in on Dalton’s face. He is terrified. His nose is
broken, with light catching off a protruding piece of gristle
through lacerated skin and his right eye is a mass of red. The
white of the eyeball is engulfed in a sea of blood. A man walks
toward Dalton with something in his hand. At first neither Leroy
nor Frusco can quite tell what it is, until it is held up for the
purpose of the camera. As the blades start to flash it became all
too clear. Both Leroy and Norman Frusco had used one before, and
knew how lethal an electric carving knife could be. The camera
panned down to Max’s right hand. Within thirty sickening seconds
both hands had been removed and the killer was starting work on the
man’s feet.

Leroy could hear the screams even though there was no sound.
Once Dalton’s feet had been removed the killer moved the knife into
Dalton’s mouth and sliced through the tongue. Blood showered the
killer who seemed to be getting more and more psyched up with each
new atrocity. The camera followed every move. For his finale, the
killer set about Dalton’s mouth with a hammer. Smashing every tooth
he could hit then finished off with pinking shears, removing what
was left of Max Dalton’s lips.

Captain Frusco pushed away the Pizza box, which he had
delivered for dinner. ‘Well that’s cured my appetite.’

Leroy stared at the screen in disbelief. ‘He doesn’t think
he’s gonna get caught.’

‘No.’ Frusco shook his head. ‘No...He doesn’t care that he’s
gonna get caught. And that’s what makes him so
frightening.’

Leroy’s fist smashed against the screen in front of him. ‘Who
the fuck is he?’

Frusco picked up a phone next to the pizza box. ‘Call Agent
O’Neil. I don’t care where she is or what she’s doing I want her
here now.’

‘She’s at a hotel, The Meridian. With Korjca Piekarska sister
and her diary. Anna Piekarska is translating it, it was written in
Polish or some language. She thinks it might have important
information in it.’

‘Why wasn’t it brought in here as evidence?’ Frusco
demanded.

Leroy looked sheepish. ‘We have no translators. Only
Kwoiskizchi or whatever his name is and he’s in Florida on
vacation.’