Kidnapped, page 15
part #10 of Riveting Kidnapping Mystery Series
Anna’s hairs stood on the back of her neck. “Message?”
“Painted in crusty blood on the inside of the chimney was the word Cain. I thought to myself, now that deserves a follow-up article, so I brought a draft to my editor. He shared the same enthusiasm as me, but only for a day.”
“What happened?”
“Someone left a ring box on his front porch. Inside was a note with his daughter’s name on it. He gave me a call, begging me not to run the story. I asked why. He told me the truth, packed his bags, and moved out of state. I called him over the next few days. Not a peep. He’d vanished. He and his daughter. I took the warning and moved to New York, gave up my journalism career for advertisement copy.”
“Did this Cain guy ever threaten you?”
“No. But I haven’t been stupid enough to get in his way. I’d advise you to do the same… By the way, why are you calling?”
Anna dreaded saying it. “Two little girls are missing. Their fingers were delivered in red velvet ring boxes. We’re on number four.”
Terrence chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Anna asked.
“It’s utterly hopeless, don’t you see? You won’t find those girls. No one will, and once the tenth gift is delivered, he’ll be coming for you, Ms. Dedrick. No one escapes him. No one.”
The door swung open. Anna twisted around, hand reaching for her weapon, belatedly remembering she left it in the truck.
Pale and wide-eyed, Agent Rennard stood in the doorway. “I found something.”
Anna snatched her phone from the ground. “Terrence?”
He’d hung up.
“What did you find?” Anna asked, feeling caffeinated from Rennard’s abrupt arrival.
“You know how the detective’s house in the child painter’s case burned down? One of the floorboards recovered from the ash had a name carved into it.” Rennard paused, hesitant to give the word power. “Cain.”
15
Adversary
Anna and Sheriff Greenbell gathered around Rennard’s laptop as he typed “Cain” into the FBI database. Dozens of abductions, assaults, and cold cases flashed on the screen. Each had the letter C or word Cain carved into the wall, spelled out on refrigerator magnets, or taped together out of collaged magazine headlines. Pictures of prepubescent girls from the mid-West crowded the monitor. Each shared a commonality: stardom. All the cases went cold after a few weeks. The girls were never found. Rennard and Anna expanded the geo profile, adding Kansas, Missouri, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Mississippi, West Tennessee, and Illinois to the list.
“He has long arms,” Rennard stated. “And a type.”
“Why the hell would he want Lily Kendale, though?” Greenbell asked. “If not for the same ring box, I’d almost say we’re dealing with two different guys.”
Anna voiced her own theory. “Maybe Lily was the outcome of his… proposal to me.”
The three of them traded looks, none liking the sound of that.
Anna’s insides twisted. They could have no connection, she reminded herself, but the timeline fit. She blinked away the water in her eyes as they scrolled through various sketches gleaned throughout the years. Each displayed a variation of a generic white male, bearded and clean-shaven, between the ages of twenty and fifty. Greenbell printed them out and left the room without a word.
After a few minutes, he returned with the sketches from Grace’s fellow apartment dwellers. He taped them to the whiteboard and pulled out a low-quality still from a security camera at the middle school Keisha attended. It revealed a man with a goatee and baseball cap speaking to Keisha Rines. Greenbell put it up last and stroked his stark-white beard. Between thoughts, he detached the drawings that lacked similarities, letting them fall to the floor like feathers. The remaining men had blonde, gray, or black hair. Their jawlines were at different angles, but never weak. The nose looked the same, looking as generic as they came.
“There he is.” Greenbell rapped his knuckles on the nearby pedestal and wagged his finger at the whiteboard. “Our Cain.”
“I preferred it when he had a hook hand,” Rennard said.
“He’ll keep on delivering gifts until he reaches ten.” Anna’s gaze went to the black coffee on her cup. “Then…”
She turned to the two men as the air was sucked out of the room. “He comes for us.”
“Not going to happen,” Greenbell denied the claim. “Not in my town.”
Rennard grinned slyly. “We’ll catch him. Everyone faces a day of reckoning. Besides, who will take care of my dog?”
The forensic scientists came in that morning with news about the second victim’s identity. Their pitying expression said it all. Anna made the call. With bloodshot and circle-lined eyes, Anna listened to Grace wail on the other end of the phone line. Resting her back against the police station’s outer wall, she stood amidst scattered cigarette butts.
Anna contemplated making another promise. “Don’t worry. I’ll find Lily. She’ll be safe,” Instead, she apologized and kept her mouth shut. He took my niece. He mutilated her. There will be repercussions, she repeated internally as the sound of Grace’s cry echoed on the other side.
When the call ended, a scientist opened the door into the back parking lot. He had a flat nose and dense gray hair that folded around the back and side of his head, leaving his crown bald and spotless. “The hair you discovered on the train track outside of the Opera House is fake.”
“What?” Anna’s first piece of evidence had just become obsolete.
“It’s from a high-quality wig. Well-maintained but old.”
Anna paused for a moment, letting her mind work. “Is there a wig shop in town?”
“Not that I know of. Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful,” the man said and slipped back inside, letting the door close quietly behind him.
Cain wears disguises, Anna concluded. That makes things difficult, but she might be able to use it against him. There couldn’t be more than a handful of shops selling these wares.
In the breakroom, she told Rennard her plan of attack. “We find them, explore their sales records, and cross-reference the buyers with the suspects of any nearby abductions over the last twenty years.”
Rennard removed the saran wrap from his egg sandwich and offered Anna half. She accepted and took a bite.
“I saw Edger Strife,” Rennard said, hovering his hand over his mouth as he chewed and talked. “The conversation was very one-sided. Usually, I get a shut up or f-you, but this guy was a statue. I must’ve spent two hours in there yesterday.”
Anna lost her appetite. “Thanks for the sandwich.”
Rennard stopped chewing and asked curiously. “Where are you going?”
“Crawford County,” Anna replied and slipped outside.
The sunrise ended and the new day began with heat and humidity. Let’s get this over with. Female visitation at Crawford County detention center wouldn’t be until 1 p.m., but Anna went anyway. Ideally, the center held less than a hundred detainees, but from what Anna read online, Crawford took inmates and those awaiting trial from all the surrounding towns, overflowing its eighty-eight-person maximum by fifty-plus inmates.
Heart pounding, Anna flashed her I.D. and P.I. license at the gate guard. He pointed to the guest parking lot, perplexed by the horrid condition of Anna’s truck. She felt naked leaving her pistol in the glove box but went in anyway. It took a thorough explanation of her circumstance for the supervisor to let her see Edger Strife before visiting hours. Sympathy was a perk she didn’t have as the lead detective in Miami.
As they retrieved Strife from his holding cell, Anna headed for the bathroom and splashed her face with icy water. She’d forsaken makeup now that it was day three with dismal sleep. Part of her wanted to run far away. The other dreamed of burying the man who assaulted her twenty years ago. A bout of dizziness struck her, and she steadied herself on the sink. “He can’t hurt you in here,” she mumbled to the woman in the mirror.
As she walked through the halls, she thought about Strife’s confession. “I kidnapped her, cut off her fingers, and left her in the woods. Is that what you want to hear?” Anna gnashed her teeth. That should’ve been the end of it, but fate seemed to enjoy shivving her in the belly and twisting the knife. Thank God her parents had put her through hypnotherapy. She pitied the women who had to remember that monster crawling on top of them. Still, some nights she could see the man’s cold, predatory eyes that were grafted into her memory.
Anna passed by the statue-like guard beside the doorway and slowly stepped closer to the two-sided desk separated by a quarter-inch of glass. With hands folded over one another, the sixty-year-old man traced Anna’s arrival. His stringy gray hair had been combed back to his widow’s peak and formed a ponytail down to the center of his back. His crusty, chapped lips twisted into a sinister smirk.
Anna sat on the edge of her plastic seat, instantly aware of its rigid texture. She locked eyes with the gaunt-cheeked, dead-eyed monster. Images of his basement flickered in her mind. The feeling of his icy skeletal hand grasping her fourteen-year-old body made her want to vomit. Anna didn’t look away from him as the horrors of her past bubbled up inside. Her fingers coiled around the neck of the plastic phone, and she brought it to her ear, trembling slightly but hiding her fear with a steel exterior. Strife didn’t move. Didn’t touch his phone. His smirk grew. The tremors in Anna’s hands grew worse, more noticeable. Pick up. Haven’t you made me suffer enough? Seconds passed. Anna shifted in her seat. She thought about the exit door behind her.
Strife’s veiny hand snatched up his phone and brought it to his droopy ear. “I’ve been waiting for you, Anna,” he said in the same soft, quiet tone he had twenty years ago. “I knew you’d come back.”
“Save it,” Anna growled.
“Still fighting?” Strife smiled. “I love that about you. Most of the others begged, cried, bargained even. But not you. You fought the whole time. Nearly gave me a run for my money.” His fat tongue slugged over his cracked lips.
Blood rushed to Anna’s face. Her leg bounced rapidly beneath the desk.
“You might find this conversation quite dull if only one of us is talking,” Strife smiled at his own cleverness.
Anna spoke, fighting against her anger. “Who took Keisha Rines?”
Strife leaned in. “I told you in the interrogation room. I did.”
Anna got into his face, imagining the stench of his foul breath. “Liar.”
The man bit the air as if to mimic a dog, chuckled, and sank back into his slouched posture.
“Then where is she?” Anna demanded an answer.
“Telling you would ruin all of the fun.”
Smack!
Anna slammed her fist into the plastic barrier. Alarmed, Strife scooted back. The door guard took a few steps forward. Anna shouted into the phone. “If you want to see outside of your cell again, you better start talking!”
Strife scooted forward and whispered, “You’re upsetting the guard.”
Anna craned her neck back, noticing the statue-like guard had moved a few yards closer.
“You cool?” the man asked in his baritone voice.
Flexing her sore hand, Anna nodded. “Yeah. Yes. Just… conducting an investigation.”
Suspicious, the guard stepped back. Anna lowered herself back to her seat, taking a deep breath. The vein in her neck pulsed, and her trembling worsened. “Once the other detainees learn what you did,” Anna whispered, “they’ll grind you up into powder.”
Strife interlocked his fingers on top of the desk. “I’m a resourceful man. I’ll survive. The real question is, can you reduce my sentence?”
Under the desk, Anna squeezed her throbbing knuckles with her uninjured hand. “No,” she admitted. “But I could get you your own cell and a bed that doesn’t feel like rocks.”
Strife shook his head. “That’s not enough.”
“It’s more than you deserve,” Anna barked. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll make sure everyone in your cellblock knows about all the little girls you’ve touched. I’ll even pass the guards a few dollars to leave you alone in the shower with some unsavory types. You know, the big and strong ones who’ve been away from women for far too long.”
Strife smiled and shook his head in disbelief, but Anna could see the cracks in his cocky exterior.
“Oh, you wouldn’t like that, would you? Being on the receiving end.” Anna’s mocking voice cut into him. She spoke up. “You’re in no place to bargain, Strife. Resourceful or not, you can only last alone for so long on your own. I’m not offering friendship, but I can keep you on this miserable earth for a little longer.”
The old man’s gray eyes locked on hers. He moved his tongue around the inside of his lip but didn’t speak for a moment. A defeated grin grew on his face. “Always the fighter. You want to find your little girl, watch my movies. Especially the one I made of you.”
Anna felt rage and disgust boil up inside. “That some sort of joke?”
“See for yourself.” Strife leaned back in the seat and yelled to the guard on his side of the plastic. “I’m ready to return to my cell!”
“We’re not done talking,” Anna growled.
“Goodbye, Anna.” Strife stood up. “Come back when you’ve watched my tapes.”
“Wait! I said, wait!”
Strife hung up his phone and let the guard escort him outside of the room. Anna slammed her phone onto the hook. She twisted to the alert guard by the door. “I’m going,” she answered his unspoken question and marched out the door.
Anna huddled in her idling truck. Her eyes were wide with anguish as she massaged her swollen and bruised knuckles. She reached for her phone. Two missed calls. One from FBI Agent Rennard and the other from Sheriff Greenbell. She re-dialed Rennard. “What’s up?” she asked, wiping her lower eyelid.
“You okay?” Rennard asked sympathetically.
“I’m good,” she lied. “What’s happening?”
“Well, I got good news and bad news.”
Anna mouthed a silent curse and then said, “Lay it on me.”
“We found out who delivered Lily’s box,” Rennard said on the other end. “It’s a sixteen-year-old kid. His mom brought him in. Long story short, he was blackmailed after Cain killed his dog... That sick bastard. The kid said he never checked the inside of the box or saw the one who delivered it. I know a liar when I see one, the kid’s story checks out.”
“What’s the good news?”
“That was the good news. The bad news is that all our other leads are coming up fruitless. Many of the opera house patrons have alibis or have already skipped town. I think we can agree that this isn’t a personal attack against the Rines. Now, we’re almost stuck waiting for Cain’s next gift.”
“See if you can follow up with any professional wig manufacturer in the meantime,” Anna suggested. “I’m pursuing a lead of my own.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll talk to you later.”
After hanging up, Anna peeled out of the detention center’s guest parking spot. As she drove, she fantasized about her bed and a hot plate of food. She felt her mouth water and her eyes shut.
Someone honked their horn. Anna slammed on her brakes, nearly running a stop sign. The older woman speeding past gave her the finger. Feeling a burst of vigor, Anna straightened her posture and shook out her fatigued joints, trying to defeat the remaining drowsiness. She kept her brake pressed down, taking notice of the missing person printout of Keisha Rines’s perfect smile stapled to a powerline post. Wiggling in the wind below hung a poster of Lily Kendale, who had a shy grin that said: “I know I something that you don’t.”
Anna’s knuckles turned frosty white around the steering wheel. She stomped on the accelerator, heading for the police station.
Sergeant Mathis led her down the empty hall. His broad shoulders swayed with every step while the fluorescent lights reflected off his bald head.
“I can have one of my own guys do it. I’d prefer it that way,” Mathis stated as they neared the evidence lock-up.
Anna felt her heart race and doom press against the floodgates of her mind the closer they got to the door. “This is my burden. No one else should be subjected to this.”
“It’s our job, Dedrick,” Mathis reminded her as he fished out his key ring. The lock clicked, and the broad-chested man turned around, his back to the door. “Last chance.”
Anna turned her tired gaze from her feet to the man’s bulldog-like face.
Mathis frowned and opened the door. “Return them how you found them.”
Anna slipped past him and into the sterile and bright evidence lock-up. Shelves of holding plastic boxes and bags of pills, weed, and other narcotics flanked one side. The other had old boxes full of packaged bloody shirts, weapons, and in the upper corner, a cardboard file box labeled Edger Strife.
Standing on her tippy-toes, Anna gripped the box’s handle and slid it out. She felt the tapes rattle inside as she lowered her feet to flat-footing. She gave the room a final look and headed for the exit.
“Dedrick,” Mathis stopped her. “If the tape with your name goes missing when you return the box, it was probably misplaced during processing.”
“Thanks,” Anna said and marched down the hall, hearing the plastic casing scratch against one another.
Making a quick stop at a thrift store, Anna returned to her dinky office with the file box and a newly bought VHS player. She shut her door with her foot and locked it. Light streamed through the discolored blinds behind her desk, spilling orange-yellow light into the room. Anna put down the box and fished out her small twenty-inch TV that was still packaged from her move from Miami. It seemed like it had been a million years, but the calendar said upwards of ten days. She assembled the television on the carpeted floor and plugged in the VHS player. Cables sprawled out across the ground to the outlet on the other side of the room. Feeling weak in the legs, Anna slowly slid down the front face of her desk and used its hard wooden frame as a backboard. With a crooked neck, she looked at her dark reflection on the black screen. The sunlight streamed just overhead, creating a glowing, elongated rectangle beyond the TV. She removed the lid from the box and placed it aside.
