Everything She Feared, page 20
Pierce smiled at it, then removed the stock photo and tossed it in her drawer, intending to put it in recycling later. When she inserted the photo of Webb and Ethan, a pang of guilt shuddered through Pierce. She’d been working longer hours than usual, and she missed them. Softly she touched the restored picture, then placed it on her desk.
Benton ended his call, stared at his feet and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Ensuring no one was near, Pierce said: “Bad news?”
“No news. Still waiting on the latest test results.”
“Carl, did you tell Art about Elizabeth?”
“No, no one outside our family knows, except you.”
“It might help if you let Art know.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Pierce nodded with a warm smile. Before she could say anything more, Benton said: “Right, let’s get busy.”
44
Seattle, Washington
Finishing his take-out fish and chips on a bench at Alki Beach Park, Ryan took in the view as gulls glided in the salt air.
Puget Sound, the Olympic Mountains, freighters, ferries, Seattle’s skyline and the Space Needle.
Nothing had panned out yet. Not the coffee shop in Redmond, the drugstore in Tacoma or the diner. For now it had come down to a waiting game.
He sought a measure of optimism in the fact he’d sent off another DNA sample. He hadn’t received the results of the others. These things took time. His heart sank a little. Could he realistically expect different results after so many years of strikeouts? After all these years, and all the cities he’d searched, would he find the answers here?
Or am I chasing ghosts in the wind?
* * *
Back at his apartment, Ryan made coffee and settled in to work, doing what he always did to recover from a setback.
He reviewed his research material.
Deciding this time to study Magda and her husband’s downfall, he opened a folder on his laptop labeled MAGDA ARRESTED.
It had the videos that had been recorded in the FBI’s office in Billings, Montana. He’d obtained them with the help of court clerks.
The first started with Magda in a barren room with cinderblock walls. She was wearing orange jail clothes, sitting in handcuffs at a table across from a man and woman in business attire, FBI Special Agents Joe Avelar and Erin West.
They informed Magda everything was being recorded.
“You don’t have to answer our questions,” West said. “Anything you say can be used against you. And you’re entitled to have a lawyer at any time. But first, we’d like to talk. Is that okay? Do you agree to talk to us first?”
Magda remained silent.
Her focus flicked up at the camera, like a snake’s tongue.
Ryan’s stomach tightened as he stared at her. How many times had he watched these videos? Here was Magda at twenty-three, practically the same age as Carrie and Willow. Magda wore no makeup; her tousled blond hair framed her face. And with her high cheekbones, she was attractive. But her eyes. Those stone-cold, dead eyes.
Were they the last thing Carrie saw?
“Magda,” Avelar said. “If you’re going to help yourself, you need to help us.”
“Where’s Hayley?” Magda asked.
“Before we answer that,” West said, “are you agreeing to talk to us?”
“Yes, I agree. Tell me what you did with my baby.”
“She’s safe,” West said. “She’s with the people at Family Services until you and Herman help us sort things out.”
“What things?” Magda’s voice broke. “I have no idea why I’m here.”
“Magda, it was all in the warrants,” West said. “You read them. You and Herman were present when they were executed at your home.”
Avelar opened a file folder and set down before Magda, one by one, color photographs of an engraved watch belonging to Frank Worrell of Boston, then Carrie’s inhaler. Then the rings belonging to the British couple, Sharon Lance and Jeremy Dunster of Manchester. Then a ring belonging to Brent Porter from Denver.
“These items are the property of people reported missing by their families, people last seen in Montana, Idaho and Washington,” West said. “Why did you have them?”
“I don’t know.” Magda shook her head. “I don’t know anything.”
“You don’t know?” West said.
For the next few hours, the agents detailed each of the missing person cases and the astronomical odds of their items being discovered with Magda and Herman Vryker. Over and over, with tears brimming, Magda said, “I don’t know anything. I want my daughter and I want to go home.”
Finally Avelar said: “We’ve talked to Herman, you know.”
Magda’s eyes registered a glint of surprise.
“What did he tell you?” Magda asked.
“Oh, he had a lot to say,” West said.
Thinking for a long moment, Magda’s tears evaporated.
“Did Herman tell you he got the items at flea markets?” Magda said.
The agents let her statement sit in the air.
“You know that’s not true,” West said.
“It is. He told me not to say anything because they could’ve been stolen. That’s why you searched our place.”
“Enough,” Avelar said. “You’re lying. You and Herman killed Lydia Worrell and Frank Worrell, Carrie Gardner and Willow Walker, Sharon Lance and Jeremy Dunster, and Brent Porter. And you kept their property as trophies.”
Magda shook her head.
“We know,” West said, “because there’s a living witness, a survivor, from your failed attack on her in Idaho, a few miles south of the Canadian border.”
“That’s not true,” Magda said.
Avelar turned to West, who put another photo on the table.
It showed a single toddler’s shoe, white with pink stripes.
“This shoe was found at your residence,” West said. “But not its mate. Now, you may have thought it was misplaced and would turn up.”
West set down another photo of the missing shoe, white with pink stripes.
“It did turn up,” West said. “In Idaho, where you faked car trouble and flagged down a woman while holding your daughter so you and Herman could kill her. But she fought back, she survived, and here you are, facing multiple first-degree murder charges.”
“You’ll likely never see Hayley again. And in this state,” Avelar said, “the death penalty’s a certainty for you.”
Magda’s eye twitched.
“Magda,” West said. “This case will proceed, with or without your help. It’s pretty much guaranteed—you’ll never be free again.”
Realizing she was trapped, all the blood drained from Magda’s face.
“Now’s the time for you to take control, here,” West said. “Tell us everything, tell us the truth. And we’ll make sure the county attorney knows that you cooperated. No guarantees, but it could help.”
The agents stood.
“We’ll give you a moment to think it over,” West said.
“Remember,” Avelar said, “Herman could beat you to it. He could work a deal and walk free with your daughter. The clock is ticking.”
Magda began rocking back and forth. The handcuffs jingled as she covered her face with her hands. A few seconds later she looked up to the camera, then to the agents, stopping them cold at the door.
“Herman killed the couple from Boston. He killed the Arizona college girls. He killed the British tourists and the guy from Denver. He killed them all. I couldn’t stop him. He beat me and would’ve killed me and Hayley if I didn’t obey and do what he said. I had no choice. It was not my fault.”
“Are you prepared to tell us everything, Magda?” West said.
“First, I want a lawyer. I want a deal and I want my daughter back.”
45
Seattle, Washington
Ryan exhaled.
The next recording he cued up was labeled HERMAN ARRESTED.
Herman Vryker, aged twenty-six, parents divorced, raised by his uncle in Hayden Lake, Idaho. Herman was a long-haul trucker with a long record of moving violations that included: speeding, an improper lane change and twice he’d bumped cars on the highway.
Herman sat in the drab interview room, wearing an orange prisoner jumpsuit. Unshaven, eyes bloodshot, his unwashed hair matted, he was handcuffed along with a leg iron attached to the metal table. Beside him, his lawyer, Heinrich Butler, read documents while they waited without speaking, both unaware what had transpired with Magda in the previous days.
Watching them, Ryan reflected on how at that time the investigators had considered their case a bit shaky. Outside of the failed attack in Idaho, they had no bodies and no murder scenes. The fact Magda and Herman possessed items belonging to missing people was not enough. They needed admissions from Magda and Herman to tie together the evidence and facts they had.
In most jurisdictions the law allowed detectives to be deceptive with a suspect in pursuit of the truth. So they’d gone to Magda first, having not yet questioned Herman. Telling her they’d spoken to Herman, they wanted her believing her husband had turned against her. They also planted the seed that Magda was facing execution and would likely never see her daughter again, which was true.
It worked.
With her attorney beside her, Magda was questioned for hours, during which she detailed the killings and her role in them. In exchange she would plead guilty but wanted to be reunited with her daughter. Magda wanted a light sentence, five to seven years, in a minimum-security prison with access to college courses of her choosing. After which she’d be released with no conditions. Once she started serving her time, she would help locate the bodies, so the families of their victims would have some peace.
Days passed as approval was sought from the county attorney, right up through to Montana’s Attorney General’s Office. Lawyers for the office consulted with their counterparts in Idaho and Washington. Given the scale and horrific nature of the case, the state revised the deal to a take-it-or-leave-it final status.
The state said Magda would serve twenty years. She’d be released with no conditions, no parole, no reporting and—given how Magda had used her baby daughter in commission of first-degree murders—there would be no mother and child reunion. The state would become Hayley’s guardian and she would be put up for adoption to start a new life with a new name. Magda would not be given any details. There would be no contact. Her daughter would be taken away from her.
Magda was outraged.
But if she rejected the deal, she’d face execution.
“You have no choice,” West told Magda, echoing her claim in the killings.
Magda’s lawyer advised her to accept the terms. The deal was signed by all parties and approved by the court.
When Magda left the small interview room for the last time, she shot a glance up at the camera in what Ryan thought was a smirk.
Now, in the video Ryan watched, the door opened to the room where Herman and his lawyer were seated. FBI Special Agents Joe Avelar and Erin West entered.
After a perfunctory round of introductions, Heinrich Butler started complaining. “Why keep my client in custody all this time? So you can prolong the process? You’re infringing on his rights.”
“No, we’re not, Mr. Butler,” Avelar said. “My colleague will update you.”
“Herman, we’ve spoken at length with Magda,” West said. “She told us everything.”
Herman glanced to Butler, then at the agents.
“What do you mean?” Herman asked.
West placed photographs of the victims on the table, then photos of the items found at Herman and Magda’s residence.
“She told us everything you did,” West said.
Herman swallowed.
“We got those things at flea markets,” Herman said. “One in Billings, one in Miles City. Are they stolen? That’s what I was afraid of. You need to check those places, investigate the vendors, because—”
“Herman,” West said. “You need to listen to something.”
West took out a microcassette recorder, set it on the table and played a long excerpt of Magda speaking to them.
“...he’s a trucker, he grew up in the northwest. Herman knows every back road, logging, mining road, pioneer trail in the region. He’d take us out to remote, isolated areas he selected and then dig graves to use later...”
Herman’s face whitened as it played.
“...he had these scary beliefs, that he had dominion over lower life forms and every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. Sometimes at night he’d lie on the ground and stare up at the stars. I think it exaggerated his sense of self-importance, because he started embracing these strange ideas about how he was superior to all others, that he should rule over who lives and who dies, because he feels nothing wrong about a necessary death. I think that’s why, when we met, he insisted I sneak him into the slaughterhouse where I worked...so he could watch death...”
Butler scribbled notes quickly on a legal pad.
“...Herman started talking about how a day of deliverance was nearing, and how people who stood in the way of foretold events had to be removed. He’d take action according to dates, numbers, weird formulas and things he’d calculated, then we’d go out to find potential victims...”
Herman clenched his jaw as he listened.
“...it was his idea to use Hayley to lure people to stop—no one would feel threatened by a woman with a toddler needing help on a lonely stretch of road—and he’d lie in wait and kill whoever stopped...”
“What would happen after that?” West asked Magda.
“Herman would load the bodies into their vehicle, drive it to a selected, prepared site, miles and miles away, with me following with Hayley. I’d help him bury the bodies in a pre-dug grave. Later he’d hide their vehicles, alter the VINs, then sell them to his friends in trucker world. He told me they’d transport them to resell in Central and South America.”
“Why didn’t you stop or report him?”
“I was terrified. Herman beat me all the time.”
“Did you make a criminal complaint?”
“No, I was frightened. With my lawyer’s help, I’ll be making one now.”
“Alright, continue,” West said.
“Herman hit me all the time and said if I didn’t do what he said, he’d put me and Hayley in one of those graves. Yes, I participated in the murders, but I had no choice.”
West switched off the recorder.
Avelar set down a photo of a child’s shoe.
“This was found at your home,” he said, setting down a second photo of an identical shoe. “This one was found at the site of your attempt to kill a woman in Idaho. She’s our surviving witness who got your plate. And we have Magda’s admission.”
“It’s over for you,” West said.
Tears rolled down Herman’s face.
“She’s a liar,” Herman said.
Butler touched his handcuffed wrists. “Don’t say anything.”
“They have to know the truth.”
“Go ahead,” West said.
“As your attorney,” Butler said, “I advise you to remain silent, Herman.”
“Magda,” Herman said, ignoring his lawyer’s advice, “lied to you. She’s smart, very smart. She always thought she was above other people. She’s the one who reads strange books. She’s the one who believes in the stars and power in numbers.”
His handcuffs jingled as he pressed his palms to the table, bit his bottom lip to push down on his anger.
“She’s the one who planned it all—it was her idea to use Hayley to lure people. And she loved it. From the time I met her at the slaughterhouse, she told me how she loved the killing, the power over living things. Yes, I did what she wanted. But she stared into the eyes of people as we killed them. She loved watching them die. She told me there was no greater feeling than watching life drain from a living thing.”
“Now, please,” Butler said. “None of what Magdalena has told you is admissible under Title Twenty-Six. It’s spousal privilege—neither spouse can testify against the other without consent of the other. Your case collapses.”
“Mr. Butler,” West said, “you heard on the recording that she’s in the process of swearing out a criminal complaint against your client, so the privilege will not apply.”
“Herman,” Avelar said. “You’ll be charged with multiple counts of first-degree murder. The prosecution will seek the death penalty.”
“I can’t believe it.” An intense visible change rolled over Herman; he appeared to deflate and break before their eyes. But it was not about facing execution. “I can’t believe she betrayed me.”
Much later, Herman’s case went before the court. Butler’s attempts to secure a deal—a commutation to life in exchange for his cooperation to find the bodies—had failed. The state wanted Herman executed. It wasn’t interested in another deal. They already had Magda’s.
Herman’s death sentence was passed. Within days of it being issued, death row inmates near Herman heard bedsheets being torn and alerted guards.
But it was too late.
Herman Vryker had hung himself in his cell.
It was during this time that Magda, handcuffed and shackled under heavy escort, led officials in Montana, Idaho and Washington to isolated areas to find the graves of their victims. Huge contingents involving helicopters, search teams and dogs failed each time to find any remains.
