Everything She Feared, page 31
Foy had to locate the endpoints and real-branch points of the overlapped image. Enhancing it would involve several steps, including image binarization, ridge thinning and minutiae extraction. He was making progress, but it was meticulous work.
He’d lost track of time when he saw Jensen stop working on comparing the prints she’d recovered. She left her worktable and hurried out of the section with a grave expression.
Something’s up, Foy thought.
Meanwhile he’d succeeded in recovering two prints for comparison.
The first was easy; it was Benton’s.
The second print belonged to the woman who was in the park, Marilyn Hamilton. Foy was pleased because it was a detailed image, good enough to run through the Automated Fingerprint Identification System.
After several commands and adjustments, Foy submitted Hamilton’s print to AFIS.
Pressing the last key, he said: “And away we go.”
79
Seattle, Washington
The handwriting was neat, legible on the lined pages of the journal belonging to Tracy Linda Loman, from when she was an inmate at Montana Women’s Prison in Billings.
The attachments had come through from Loman’s niece Michelle.
Ryan had checked them for viruses. Then he called the Montana Department of Corrections and an official there confirmed that Tracy Linda Loman, Inmate #3875647, had served time there.
Ryan began reading immediately, Loman’s observations taking him deeper into the darkness that had consumed Carrie.
He came to the first reference to Magda.
So as fate would have it, not long after my arrival, I’ve become friends with the infamous Magdalena Vryker, or Magdalena Kurtz, as she prefers after hubby Herman hung himself. She’s now got just 5 years to go and seems chatty.
He continued to other passages, reading carefully.
She tells me she’s learned Spanish, French, studied theatrical makeup so she can make herself look completely different (we have a very good library) and is working on a new life plan for when she rejoins the world.
Ryan slowed to reread the passage, then continued.
One day she tells me about her devotion and belief in the power of numbers, how the numbers told her of some great meaning, a sign, that her daughter was born on the date she was. How it was all woven into her destiny, or some cosmic thing. Then she said the date she met Herman Vryker, and what it meant, something about being selected to do great things. She’d go on about why things happened, what the numbers mean. She has this fanatical weird obsession with numbers.
So she’s fixated on numbers.
One time after lunch Magda tells me about all the psych sessions, tests and counseling she’s had. How she told every psychiatrist who assessed her what they needed to hear so it would help her. She told them that Herman abused her and made her go along with his sick fantasies. How she had to do it or he would’ve killed her and their daughter, Hayley, which was pretty much all lies.
A liar, no surprise there.
We were out in the yard, walking alone along the fence, when Magda stops and says: “The truth is I loved hunting and luring them. I loved the power of the kill. It was our destiny. It was written in the stars and the numbers for us. If it was in the numbers and the stars, I would do it again. I would have to.”
What the—? Ryan took a moment, then continued reading.
I asked her if she actually knew where the bodies of her victims were. She gave me a smile that turned my blood to ice. Oh, this woman is a piece of work. Very intelligent, manipulative and very dangerous. Very dangerous.
She knows where they are. She damn well knows where Carrie is. Ryan slammed his fist on his desk, then continued, coming close to Magda’s release and the final passages in Loman’s journal.
Magda’s time inside is short now, and she tells me about wanting to find her daughter, Hayley, who was taken from her and adopted by another family. Magda says she has no idea who the family is, where they live, their names, nothing. But she vows to find them. Magda says that with her sentence ending, she’s working with Women Healing in the Forgiving Light and her lawyer to find a way to find them. She wanted to find them so she could make a plea for reunification with her daughter, Hayley. How Hayley would be a grown woman now and Magda may have grandchildren.
Ryan couldn’t believe what he was reading.
Magda tells me that she finally was able to get a letter out to Hayley’s family through the group and her lawyer and she’s filled with hope.
Ryan skimmed ahead, past a few mundane passages.
Magda got a letter today. The family’s response. It has left her seething. At times when she tells me, her entire body shakes. “They stole my baby from me and this is what they say.” Magda showed me what they said: You are not her mother. She never wants to see you. Stay away. As far as we’re concerned, you have no role in our lives. You mean nothing to her. You do not exist. I looked at Magda and it was as if a switch had been thrown, something behind her eyes was burning.
That was the last passage.
Ryan took a moment and a breath to digest it all.
Then again and again he read it over, looking for any missed reference Magda may have made in reaching out for her daughter. For any reference to the people he had pursued in the past and was pursuing now.
He found none, of course.
He was steepling his fingers and touching them to his lips when his phone rang. It was his mother.
He answered.
“Ryan, oh, Ryan.”
Surprised by the excited nervousness in her voice, he feared bad news—maybe something had happened to his father.
“What is it, Mom?”
“We got the DNA results back. You found her!”
80
Seattle, Washington
It was early evening when Sara got home.
Bingo was first to greet her, nuzzling her leg as she went to the kitchen where Val and Katie were finishing cleaning up, drying dishes.
“Hi, Mom,” Katie said.
“Hi, Sara,” Val said. She put the dish towel away. “We just had chicken sandwiches for supper. Would you like me to fix one for you?”
“No, thank you, Val. Katie, you go upstairs and I’ll be up.”
“Okay. Come on, Bingo.”
After Katie and the dog left, Sara sat at the table.
Reading the fear in her face, Val went to her.
“It’s all wrong,” Val said. “What they said on the news, at the school—I refuse to believe it for a second, you know that.”
Sara nodded weakly.
“Tell me what I can do to help,” Val said.
Swallowing her pain, Sara shook her head.
“You’ve already helped us so much.”
“Want me to keep Katie with me for the night?”
Sara shook her head.
“You know you’re like family to me. I’ll do anything to help you.”
“I know that, Val. Thank you.”
“Want me to stay a little longer?”
“No, thank you. You’ve done so much for us and it means the world to me, but I’ve got some things to do.”
Val smiled at Sara.
“I’ll get Bingo and give you guys some space.” Val hugged Sara. “If there’s anything, anything at all, just call me.”
Moments later, after Val and Bingo departed, Sara called Rose Aranda.
“What more do you know?”
“From what I gather, they’re working into the evening.”
“Oh, my God, are they coming to arrest her tonight?”
“Not likely. They don’t have the formal charge ready yet.”
Sara released a creaking sob, as if she were breaking.
“They’re going to charge my nine-year-old daughter with murder! I can’t lose her!”
“Sara, hang on.”
“What if we left, right now? We have friends in Canada. Or we could go to Mexico?”
“Sara. You’ve got to hang on. First, we’ve got to see what they’re going to do, okay? I’ll be over first thing in the morning. We can fight this.”
Sara collapsed into a chair at the table.
Was it Dr. Mehta? Did she go to police? What does it matter now? This is the hardest thing. Is God taking Katie from me? Just like Nathaniel. Just like Dad. God is punishing me for who I am, for being part of what they did to all those people.
She looked at the tattoo that covered her scar.
Because I was there.
The stairs squeaked.
Katie appeared at the bottom of the stairs, startling Sara.
“I’m in big serious trouble, aren’t I, Mom?”
Sara swallowed and went to her, every nerve ending tingling.
“Yes.”
81
Seattle, Washington
Elbow on his desk, phone pressed to his ear, Detective Larry Grotowski took notes and glanced at the time.
Still early evening.
He had an apple in his desk to snack on before he got something more substantial later. This was going to be a long night. He was on the line with the lead investigator from Delta, British Columbia, who was detailing the case of the boy who died when Katie Harmon was present two years earlier.
“It happened at the Elmside Heights Community Pool.” Detective Dennis Sandler read from Delta’s case file. “The boy’s name was Myles Henry Zuter. Age seven. I’ll give you his DOB.”
Zuter and his family were from Switzerland. They were visiting family in Delta when they went to the pool. The boy was big for his age and was known to have teased, some said “bullied,” other children, Sandler said.
Katie Harmon, aged seven, was with her mother. They were from Seattle and were visiting friends in Delta.
“At poolside Myles was snapping his towel at some girls and calling them names, according to witnesses. Then he pulled Katie’s hair. She told him to stop. Amused, he pulled her hair again, only harder,” Sandler said.
“This time she told him that if he didn’t stop, something, and I’m quoting, ‘something very, very bad would happen to him.’ Myles laughed at her and left.”
Sandler said that the pool was near capacity. The lifeguards were busy breaking up horseplay of older teens. It was estimated that fifteen to twenty minutes after his exchange with Katie, Myles Zuter was found at the bottom of the pool. Adults jumped in to rescue him. Efforts to resuscitate him failed.
“Some witnesses noted Zuter’s exchange with Katie Harmon and rumors circulated that she caused his death,” Sandler said.
The investigation and statements from adults who dove into the water to rescue Zuter showed that he’d been trapped under the water. The drawstring of his swim shorts got tangled in the filtration mechanism and tightened around him. He couldn’t remove them to free himself. Katie Harmon had never ventured to that area of the pool.
His death was an accidental drowning.
“Katie Harmon was distraught, traumatized because of what she’d said to Zuter in the moments before his death. I imagine she’ll carry the guilt of this with her all her life,” Sandler said.
“But she had nothing to do with the boy’s death?” Grotowski said.
“Absolutely nothing. Witnesses said she was at the opposite side of the pool at the time. It was a tragic accident,” Sandler said. “I understand she may be connected to a recent death your way?”
“That’s what we’re investigating,” Grotowski said. “Thank you for this, Dennis.”
“Sure, you bet.”
Grotowski sat back in his chair, then swiveled to tell Tilden and the others. But he was the only one there. While on the phone he’d missed the activity. Everyone was in Acker’s office, including Kelly Jensen from forensics. Grabbing his notebook, Grotowski joined them.
“You’re certain, Kelly?” Acker said.
“Yes. We definitely got prints from the rock. I compared them with Katie Harmon’s and we have zero points of similarity, nothing with minutiae, pores and ridges. The prints on the rock are not Katie’s. But I haven’t run the new prints through the databases yet, or compared them with the others we collected for the case. I wanted to tell you guys right away that those aren’t Katie Harmon’s prints on the rock.”
Benton cursed under his breath.
“Where does that leave us?” Tilden said, turning to acknowledge Grotowski.
Acker interrupted his concentration to read Grotowski’s concern.
“You got something, Larry?”
“Actually, I do.” He glanced at his notes. “Just spoke with the primary investigator on that case in Canada. Turns out Katie Harmon was present when the boy drowned, had words with him, but had nothing to do with his death.”
“What?” Benton said.
“Yup. It was an accidental drowning. She just happened to be there.”
Acker folded his arms, his face creased in thought as he rocked.
“I’ll have to get the prosecuting attorney’s office to stop everything,” Acker said.
“Wait.” Pierce turned to Jensen. “We still need to run the prints from—”
Jensen’s phone rang.
“It’s Erik. One sec.” Jensen held her palm to Pierce and took the call.
“Kelly, I got a hit from AFIS after running the tablet print on Marilyn Hamilton, and boy, did we get something!”
“Go ahead.”
Foy began telling her, and Jensen’s eyebrows lifted in disbelief as she turned to the others who were waiting. She held up a finger.
“Erik, Erik,” Jensen said. “We need to compare your print from the tablet with the one from the rock. I’ll be right there!”
82
Seattle, Washington
This time Ryan’s sources had been right.
Sara Dawn Harmon was Hayley Vryker, the daughter of Magda and Herman Vryker.
The Vrykers’ DNA was in the national database of convicted criminals. The samples Ryan had provided were tested against the Vrykers’ DNA and resulted in establishing a “familial DNA” connection with Sara’s, which Ryan had gotten from a discarded toothbrush he’d found the night he rummaged through Sara’s trash.
After Ryan’s mother alerted him to the successful DNA results, he drove to the Jet Town Diner, even though it was evening. He was aware from his research and surveillance of his Seattle subjects that Sara tended to work earlier shifts. But he was hopeful he might see her here.
Sitting alone in a booth, he ordered a coffee.
It wasn’t busy.
But it took everything he had to remain still and think.
All these years he’d been searching for a way to find Carrie. Despite every close call, every miss, every false hope and every failure, he kept going. He’d never given up and now, now he had done it. He’d found the connection, the irrefutable path to Magda.
Years ago, DNA collected from the crimes, and later from Magda and Herman, had eventually been submitted to the Combined DNA Index System, CODIS, the national DNA database. Through his mom and police friends Ryan was able to have the cast-off DNA he’d collected from every major subject in his research compared with Magda’s and Herman’s DNA through familial DNA searching.
Time and time again they consistently found that nothing matched.
It was looking futile.
Ryan’s mom had wanted him to abandon his search for Carrie.
But this time, they got a hit. This time the DNA he’d collected from Sara Harmon showed she was a biological relative of Magda and Herman Vryker.
For nearly thirty minutes Ryan studied the tranquil diner.
Sara wasn’t here.
He reached into his thoughts. For years he’d planned and rehearsed this moment in his mind, as to the best way to approach Magda’s daughter if, and when, he found her. Now that he’d found her, he weighed his options and the dark deeper concern that Sara and her daughter had played a part in the tragic death of her daughter’s babysitter.
Is there no end to the wickedness that runs in Magda’s bloodline?
Ryan shut his eyes for a moment.
He’d held off on approaching Sara. But that was before he had confirmation of who she was.
He could call Sara or send her a message, requesting to talk. But she could ignore him. He could also show up at her house. No doubt it would upset her, even scare her. But, if he had that one moment to tell Sara that their lives were connected, that he needed her help, it might work.
This could be my only chance. I can’t let it slip away.
He placed several dollar bills on the table. He was light in the chest, his entire insides vibrating when he left the diner for his car.
It had started to rain.
83
Seattle, Washington
Night had fallen.
Pierce and Benton were wearing body armor, sitting in their unmarked Ford Explorer half a block from the Blue Rose Bay Apartments.
As they waited for the all clear from the arrest team, Benton worked over the stick of Juicy Fruit in his mouth.
Events had unfolded with lightning speed once the forensic analysts had matched Marilyn Hamilton’s prints from Benton’s tablet with the prints on the rock used to kill Anna Shaw.
Again, they’d submitted Hamilton’s name, date of birth and social security number to NCIC, the national crime database. Hamilton had no criminal record. But after submitting Hamilton’s prints to AFIS, they found they matched the prints of convicted serial killer Magdalena Ursula Kurtz, also known as Magdalena Ursula Vryker.
Magdalena had been released seven years earlier, without conditions, as part of a plea deal, after serving twenty years in Montana Women’s Prison for a series of murders in 1994 and 1995 across Montana, Idaho and Washington.
