Black Frog, page 8
Looking up Gayle Robertson’s contact information, Anne sent her an email asking if she remembered anything else – any unusual encounters in the weeks leading up to her attack, any strangers hanging around the neighborhood, any sense that someone was following her. Since the rape had occurred in her home, Anne then contacted her landlord for information and started working through the standard list of people who may have encountered her there, including her propane supplier, her garbage collection company, newspaper deliveries, any recent repairs to the house by local contractors, and internet and cable company installers. Her efforts didn’t turn up anything of interest until her final call. She checked with Fran Waybridge at the Dover-Foxcroft Post Office, who turned the phone over to Joanne Jefferies, who was the delivery person who handled Gayle’s area. Joanne said she did remember something unusual – a white pickup truck with Maine plates – the one with the loon on it – she didn’t notice the plate numbers - was parked down the street from Gayle’s house on several occasions in the week leading up to the attack. Joanne noticed the truck because it was idling both times and the man behind the wheel seemed to be just sitting there reading something on his lap. She described him as white, medium build, maybe a bit chunky, with longish dark hair. He had a baseball hat pulled down so Joanne couldn’t get a good look at his face. Anne made a note to canvas the other houses on the street to see if anyone else had noticed the truck and its driver, and left for the day. Driving home she realized it wasn’t much of a lead given the abundance of white pickup trucks in central Maine. As she passed the Bear’s Den restaurant Cowboy pulled his white pickup out of the parking lot and followed her at a safe distance.
8.
COWBOY
Friday
It was a clear moonless night and Jimmy Bob Lentz was in a contemplative mood. Sitting on the front porch swing of Becky Crawford’s house in Milo, humming to himself and rocking back and forth quietly so as not to wake her, he wondered what his next name would be. He liked “Jimmy Bob” – it reminded him of his west Texas roots, but he had used it for almost six months now and figured he would get a new one when he left Maine. He had grown to like central Maine – the vast stretches of forest broken only by winding two-lane highways, swiftly flowing streams, and pristine lakes and ponds – so different from the harsh landscapes of west Texas and New Mexico he had known growing up. But he was glad this was a short-term assignment, and that it was summer – he wouldn’t want to have to spend a winter here, and wondered how the locals survived.
Jimmy Bob had been to many different parts of the country over the past decade and his identity had been changed every few times he relocated. It was easy now, really – once an assignment was completed he would be directed to where to pick up a new identity packet and instructions for his next job, and deposits into his bank accounts were always on time. For the first few years his relocations to new assignments and the shedding of old identities had often been complicated and cumbersome, but the Mercedes Airstream had made the transitions much easier. Now he had a permanent home that went with him when he relocated. Taking on new identities didn’t bother the man humming and swinging on Becky’s front porch swing, since he didn’t have a real name, or at least he had never learned it.
He was probably about twelve years old when Abraham Lentz had pulled up beside him as he walked by the side of a West Texas back road in on a cold windy day in February. Stopping his car, Lentz had briefly gazed at him with a calculating expression and told him to get in the car. He climbed in the front seat – men always rode up front, he would learn, and was immediately enveloped in the warm embrace of the Waldo Christian Family of Heaven and Earth.
Abraham, the Patriarch of the Family, asked him his name, and when he said he didn’t have a name, the Patriarch looked in the rearview mirror, smiled, and pronounced:
“Like Moses in the second chapter of Exodus, you have been rescued from the wilderness and adopted into the royal family of heaven on earth. We shall call you Enoch – the dedicated one.”
“Praised be his presence among us,” was the response from the back seat, and the newly named Enoch turned to take a closer look at the three women in identical ivory dresses and headscarves smiling at him and nodding in unison. They were an unusual trio – the one in the middle was short, overweight, with a wandering eye, and looked to be in her forties. The women on either side were younger, taller, rail thin, and might have been twins. All three were plain, devoid of makeup, with their hands chastely folded in their laps.
The Patriarch put the car in gear, and gazing over at Enoch, he noticed the cluster of raw wounds on the back of his left hand.
“How did you get those marks on your hand, boy?”
“A cigar.”
“Who did that to you?”
“A man.”
“That all you got to say about it, boy?”
Enoch nodded, and after a long pause, the Patriarch responded.
“Well, that’s all behind you Enoch. That life is in the past. You have been reborn into a loving family right here on the road to Damascus and we shall cherish you and nurture you and you shall, God willing, produce a multitude of sons and daughters for the growing Christian community of Waldo.” A joyful chorus of “Praised be his presence among us,” came from the back seat, followed by raucous giggles and good-natured elbowing.
In the quiet early morning darkness of Willow Street in Milo, Maine, Jimmy Bob Lentz smiled to himself as he remembered the early years in Waldo, before things went bad, and how the twins and Faith, the walleyed one, had indeed taught him what he needed to know. Late that afternoon he had watched Becky’s housemate Heather drive off for a planned weekend with her boyfriend over on the coast, and he was confident that he and his new bride would not be disturbed. Now and then a car could be heard up on Pleasant Street, but with the exception of an occasional tomcat yowl, Becky’s street was quiet. It was around four in the morning and Jimmy Bob was just about ready to wake Becky and begin the marriage ceremony. His backpack was open so he could get quick access to zip ties and a blindfold, and he had added a small tape recorder to his kit. He thought it would be nice to play a recording of the marriage vows – to make the occasion more romantic and memorable. The front door key, which Jimmy Bob had retrieved from its hiding place, was in his right hand, and he held his Dundee Style Bowie Knife loosely in his left hand. On the porch swing next to him was a bouquet of fresh wildflowers he had picked earlier in the evening from a meadow along the road over from Dover-Foxcroft. Jimmy Bob was a romantic at heart.
Getting up from the swing he pulled on his latex gloves, picked up the flowers in his knife hand, and silently entered the house. Locking the front door behind him he set the front door key down on the living room coffee table and moved to Becky’s bedroom door, which was open. Stepping quietly to her bedside he called her name as he shined the LED flashlight into her face from a few feet away. Becky started to sit up and opened her mouth to scream. Jimmy Bob showed her the knife and quickly placed it against her throat as he whispered to her to shut up. Once her blindfold was in place and taped, he added a strip of tape over her mouth. He continued to talk to her in a calm, soothing voice as he ziptied her hands and attached them to the bed frame above her head.
“Don’t be scared Becky – I’m not going to hurt you. I think you’re a wonderful young woman of good character, and I applaud your decision not to have intimate relations until you’re married.”
Once Becky was secured, Jimmy Bob placed the flowers on the bed next to her.
“I brought you some flowers and hope that you will accept my offer of marriage.”
Becky was rigid with fear and started to quietly sob behind the gag.
“Becky, pay attention.” He placed the flat of the knife blade against her neck as he whispered to her. “Will you marry me? You can just nod your head yes.”
She nodded quickly and Jimmy Bob slid the knife off her neck and used it to cut the buttons off her pajama top, exposing her breasts and eliciting a new round of sobbing, louder this time. After dropping one of the buttons into his backpack – to add to his collection of wedding souvenirs, he pulled her pajama bottoms off and paused to take several photos for the wedding scrapbook, making sure that the bouquet of flowers was included in the shots. Reaching over Becky, Jimmy Bob selected one of the prettier flowers and slipped it into the backpack – he could press it and include it in the scrapbook.
Fishing the tape recorder out of his pocket, he placed it on the bed.
“Becky, I am going to remove your gag now and play a recording I made of the marriage ceremony. When the time comes, you will need to respond ‘I do.’ If you don’t say it, or if you cry out, I will cut you. Understood?”
Becky nodded again and Jimmy Bob ripped off the tape over her mouth. She gasped in pain and then froze in fear. Jimmy Bob started the tape recorder and against a soft background of organ music, the ceremony began.
“Dearly beloved, we have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together...”
Becky whispered “I do” at the appropriate time and when the ceremony ended Jimmy Bob drew a small velvet box out of his pack and reaching up, slipped the wedding ring that had consecrated so many of his previous marriages onto Becky’s left-hand ring finger. Cradling her head in his hands gently but firmly, Jimmy Bob kissed her on the lips before taping a fresh length of tape over her mouth.
“Wasn’t that a nice ceremony Becky? Did you like it? We’re going to have a wonderful life together and our wedding night is going to produce a fine healthy baby.”
Becky went rigid with fear as Jimmy Bob loosened the gag just far enough to slip a ketamine capsule into her mouth.
“Swallow the pill Becky. It will help you to relax while I put the baby.”
Jimmy Bob sat by Becky’s side and talked to her about his dreams for their future together until, after ten minutes or so, the drug took effect. He was expecting some level of struggle or agitation from his new bride as he joined her in bed, but she simply closed her eyes and lost consciousness.
Once he had consummated his marriage to Becky, Jimmy Bob heated up his branding iron on the kitchen stove and seared the numeral “10” into her right haunch. Becky had no reaction to the branding as the smell of burning flesh filled her bedroom. Jimmy Bob removed the wedding ring, repacked his backpack, and checked to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind. Stepping out onto the front porch, he left the front door unlocked. He was concerned about Becky – her pulse when he checked was rapid and her breathing was shallow. Deciding to take no chances with her health and the health of the baby, he called 911, using Becky’s phone.
“911. What is your emergency?”
“A woman has been assaulted and needs medical attention.”
“What is your location?”
“65 Willow Street in Milo. Hurry, please.”
As the operator asked him to identify himself Jimmy Bob hung up the phone and placed it on the porch swing. Removing his latex gloves, he walked quickly away from the house and cut through the neighboring yard and then made his way down to the parking lot for Elaine’s Bakery and Café, where he had left his truck. Elaine’s was Jimmy Bob’s favorite place for breakfast – he was addicted to the donuts but he was careful to not eat at any one place too often. Many of his meals were from the McDonalds or Dunkin Donuts out by the Shaw’s Supermarket in Dover-Foxcroft or from the Swift Creek BBQ in Monson or Auntie M’s in Greenville – places where the staff was constantly changing and constantly busy – and less likely to remember him. He also liked the sandwiches and other ready to eat items for sale at Shaw’s.
Dropping his backpack in the truck Jimmy Bob entered Elaine’s by the side door off the deck, taking a seat at a table by the front window that offered a clear view of downtown Milo. As he sat down he noticed a Milo Police cruiser with its light bar flashing as it turned the corner and accelerated up the hill on Pleasant Street toward Becky’s house. “That was fast,” he thought, and ordered a coffee and a traditional cake donut. Jimmy Bob decided a celebration was in order – a wedding breakfast of sorts, and ordered the Scrambler. As he was paying his bill at the counter an EMT vehicle, siren blaring, turned the corner and climbed the hill up toward Becky’s.
Settling in behind the steering wheel of his truck he waited for the ETM truck to return, and when it did he waited until it had crossed the dam before pulling out behind it and following at a safe distance. The EMT truck carrying Becky was not being escorted by the police cruiser and neither its light bar nor siren were on, indicating that Becky was not in any danger. Jimmy Bob figured the ambulance must be taking Becky over to the Mayo Regional Hospital in Dover-Foxcroft, and since it was on his way home he might as well follow and see if he could get a glimpse of her when she was moved from the ambulance into the hospital. When they got closer to Dover-Foxcroft Jimmy Bob passed the ambulance so he could arrive at the Mayo Hospital before it did and find a good parking place to observe the patient transfer. He found an excellent vantage point, parked the truck, and watched Becky being wheeled into the hospital on a gurney. She looked to be conscious and the EMT staff did not seem overly concerned. It looked like his bride and her baby were going to be OK.
Jimmy Bob pulled out of the hospital parking lot, and headed west out of town. As he passed Spencer’s Bakery and Cafe he noticed Anne’s green Toyota Land Cruiser, and caught a glimpse of her through the window, sitting in one of the booths.
“Wouldn’t it be perfect if she was investigating the rapes?” he thought to himself – “the investigator looking into my marriages can herself become one of my brides.” Smiling broadly, Jimmy Bob headed home.
It had been a long night, and after a quick shower and a restorative nap, Jimmy Bob put his wedding night kit away, downloaded his photos of Becky, and added the button and flower to his collection of memorabilia. He finalized their wedding announcement, adding in the additional information about Becky and her family he had gleaned from his web searches, and completed his “#10 Becky” file in the “Marriages” folder on his computer.
Shifting over into his prospective brides folder, Jimmy Bob opened the Anne Quinn file and started working on a wedding announcement. Both of Anne’s parents had passed away but he worked her two older brothers into his narrative and was pleased with his initial draft. He added the photos he had taken of Anne over the past four days with his long lens, including several he had caught of her riding her bike one morning along a country road outside of town. He was continuing to be careful in his tracking of Investigator Quinn, making sure to not get too close, particularly when he was in the truck, and taking photos only from a distance. She would be much more likely to notice that she was being followed than his other brides. After another hour of surfing the web in search of information about Quinn and photos of various aspects of her life, Jimmy Bob realized that he might be getting dangerously obsessed with this woman. If he was going to claim her as his bride he would need to be very cautious, very methodical, and to plan the wedding night with extra care.
9.
DOUGLAS
Friday
Doug slid into the booth across from Anne Quinn at Spencer’s Café in Dover-Foxcroft at about 8:15, just as Jimmy Bob drove by and noticed Anne’s Land Cruiser in the parking lot. It was crowded, as usual, during the breakfast rush hour, but Kate Bishop, one of the harried waitresses, and a regular at Anne’s informal practices for Foxcroft Academy’s Lady Ponies girls basketball team, came right over with a big smile, menus, and coffee. It was clear to both Doug and Anne that Kate would no doubt be reporting on their breakfast meeting via social media as soon as they left, if not sooner.
Doug had thought a lot about how to start this conversation – he knew that Anne was justifiably hurt by the way he had suddenly stopped all contact with her after the murder case they had worked on together had ended. One look at her stony expression convinced him that his planned opening gambit – a joking reference to their shared obsession with donuts from Elaine’s Bakery over in Milo, wasn’t going to work. He decided to skip the small talk.
“So what do you think it will take to get Sheriff Hudson to detail you over to the Rick Potter murder investigation?” Doug asked. “He turned me down when I asked a week ago. But now we know that axe taken during the break-in at the Lumberman’s museum was the murder weapon, and Hudson said if the cases were linked he would assign you to the murder. Will he keep his word do you think? What’s the best way to approach him?”
Doug waited for Anne’s reply. During her playing days as point guard for the University of Michigan women’s basketball team Anne was known for her aggressive drives to the basket, and she decided that’s what was called for here.
“So all this time, all these months, Doug, not a word from you. Nothing. Then out of the blue, it’s ‘Hey, how ya been? Maybe we should work together again.’”
Doug saw the anger and hurt on her face, and quietly responded.
“Beth insisted that I break off any communication.”
Anne said nothing, just sat back in the booth and waited. Doug was about to continue when Kate Bishop materialized at his elbow; hoping to overhear what looked like it was going to be a good interchange. Once they had ordered breakfast, and Kate had reluctantly drifted away, Doug continued.
“That was one of Beth’s conditions for moving back in and working on our marriage – that I not have any contact with you at all. She considered you a ‘disruptive influence’.”
