Shadow of Vengeance (17 page)

“Stronach said the only family Tim had was a grandmother and that a year after she died, he claimed the inheritance then disappeared again.”

“That’s the problem with the professor. His perception of legends and myths, namely our local Hell Week, is warped. Tim’s grandma wasn’t his only family. His parents were alive and well when he went missing, so were his four brothers and sisters. The crap Stronach fed you was just that…crap. He’s taken some of these disappearances and distorted them to fit his lame theories about the Hell Week legend.”

Nodding, Rachel said, “Based on the conversation we had with him, I have no problem believing that. Okay, let’s forget about Stronach.” She pointed to the pictures on the table. “One thing we can’t deny is that the kidnapper is going for a certain type. The question is why tall, athletic blond males?”

Owen toyed with the handle of the coffee mug. “Maybe the kidnapper is taking these boys as a trophy or a replacement to someone or something he’d lost.”

“Maybe a son,” Jake suggested.

“Possible.” Rachel took Tim Simmon’s picture from Jake and began putting the photos away. “I like the idea of a trophy and/or replacement. Both of those theories make sense to me.”
 

“Replacing a son, you mean,” Jake said.

She shook her head. “Replacing an
experience
. Because he’s taking them at the start of Hell Week, what if this guy is reliving his
own
experiences?”

“And the boy he’s kidnapped is the trophy,” Owen said.

“What about the four missing Townies?” Jake asked. “None of them match the description of the missing students. Plus, they went missing at different times of the year.”

Rachel pulled out those photos and set them on the table. Three of the missing Townies were male and in their early to mid twenties, the fourth, an elderly female. “I’ve been thinking about that. And I don’t think they’re connected to this case.”

He could cross that off his list, too. “I agree. Jake, a fellow agent had been a deputy in a town like yours, but in Wisconsin. He’d mentioned having issues with crystal meth. Said he and some of the other deputies from his county had busted several different operations and that many of them were found deep in the forest.”

“Is it possible the three male Townies were either dealing or doing drugs?” Rachel asked the sheriff. “I noticed one of them had a record…DUI.”

Nodding, Jake leaned forward and folded his hands. “Yeah, that’d be Wes Grabowski. He and his cousin, Keith, were a couple of hell raisers. They both disappeared at the same time two years ago and I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d gotten themselves mixed up in drugs. I didn’t know the first missing person. He disappeared a few years before I took over as sheriff. The one that still bothers me is the woman. Ethel Rodeck was eighty-six when she went missing. I doubt she was selling or doing meth.”

Owen found her file, then opened it. “She disappeared six years ago.”

“Yeah, about four months after my first Hell Week case.”

“And she lived near the Menominee River, right?”

“Her house was built about fifty yards from the shore.”

“Isn’t it possible she fell in and was swept away?” Owen asked.

“That was our concern. She went missing during a rainstorm. We’d already had a lot of rain that spring, couple that with the melting snow and the river had swelled its highest in forty years. We did search the river, but the current was extra strong. She could have been carried into Lake Michigan.”

“Okay,” Rachel began. “For now, let’s set aside the four Townies and focus on the missing Wexman students. After Jake and I talked last night, I did some more research on Wexman University. Sean told me that Wexman has a strict, no tolerance policy when it comes to fraternity hazing. I couldn’t find out when that went into effect, and hope the dean we’re meeting with can enlighten us.”

“Hell Week is what’s triggering this guy,” Owen said.

“What about the local methamphetamine dealers?” Jake asked. “Maybe some of these students had gotten involved with the wrong guy and—”

“And maybe Bigfoot took them.”
 

“Really, Owen?” Rachel glared at him.
 

“Sorry, I was having flashbacks to our meeting with the nutty professor,” he said with a smile. “See, I buy the meth angle with regards to the missing male Townies, but not the students. If only a couple of these kids had gone missing, the meth dealers would top my list of suspects. But ten, and at the same time of year?”

“I told Jake how Professor Stronach had tried to blow off the missing students as either a hoax, or a deliberate jump off the grid. And I agree. I don’t think drug dealers have anything to do with this.”

“I obviously don’t have the background you two have, and it’s not that I don’t agree…” Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it normal for a serial killer to take a few years off before he attacks again?”

Rachel looked to Owen. “Absolutely,” he said. “The BTK killer is a prime example. Over the course of seventeen years he killed ten people. At one point, he took off eight years between murders.”

“Right.” Rachel nodded. “Let’s not forget Bola isn’t exactly a sprawling metropolis. Taking too many boys, too fast…”
 

“So who are we looking for?” Jake asked. “Wild guess.”

Owen wished he was a criminalist like CORE agent John Kain, or a profiler like his boss, Ian. Those two had an eerie knack of finding a way into a killer’s mind and could generate a rough idea of who they were hunting. Although he didn’t have their background, he’d been around enough investigations, both with the Secret Service and CORE to draw his own conclusions. “Male. Late thirties to early forties. Maybe even a little older, which would make the theory that the kidnapper is taking these boys as a way of replacing a son improbable. ”

“If we went with the son angle, this guy would be closer to sixty than forty,” Rachel said. “Let’s stick with the idea that he’s closer to forty. Hell Week has just begun its twentieth year. If he started when he was eighteen—”

“Maybe as a freshman at Wexman,” Owen suggested.

“Exactly,” she concurred. “He’d be thirty-eight now or maybe a little older. I’m wondering if he’s local, or if he comes to the area in January…specifically for Hell Week.”

“Whatever he is, he has some place private,” Owen said.
 

Jake shook his head. “Unless he kills them, disposes of the body, then leaves. Maybe this is like a pilgrimage to him.”

“No,” Rachel said. “Owen’s right. He has some place private. He’s keeping these kids for a week. He states that in the note.”

“If he’s kidnapping and murdering, I doubt he’s worried about anyone calling him a liar,” Jake countered.

 
“True.” Rachel grinned. “Only he sent you a photo of one of his decomposing victims, weeks after the kid was taken. Unless he’s taking the bodies on the road with him, I’m betting he lives in the area—at least during the winter months.”

“Gee, and what males in the age range we’re discussing live in the area only part of the year?” Owen asked with heavy sarcasm.

Rachel’s big green eyes grew round. “Males who work at the university. The only summer classes the university offers are online. A professor teaching a summer course could do so anywhere.”

“The university might not have classes during the summer, but maintenance and security are there year round, and are locals from either Bola or the neighboring county,” Jake said. “I’m not one hundred percent certain, but I believe some administrators also maintain residences around here, too. The dean you’re meeting with would have that information, or at least access to it.”

Rachel jotted a note, then tapped her lips with the pencil. He stared at her mouth, and wondered if Jake thought about tasting her lush lips as much as he did. Shaking the thought from his head, he said, “So the plan for today…”

“Meet with the dean, campus security, the RA that had been on duty Saturday night—”

“Abby Zucker?” Jake asked.

Rachel frowned. “Do you know her? Never mind, that’s right, you already interviewed her.”
 

“Yeah, I talked to her. She also works for me. I’m not trying to stop you from talking with her, but to save you time, she was working on a paper that weekend and saw Sean and Josh when she dropped off their pizza.”

“Is that typical?” Owen asked. “Does she always make deliveries?”

“That I don’t know.”

Owen glanced at Rachel, who met his gaze. “I guess there’s only one way to find out,” she said, then smiled at Jake. “Aside from meeting with Abby, we also need to speak with Sean’s doctor. I’m waiting on the toxicology reports for both my brother and Bill.”

Jake tapped the table, then pushed his chair back and stood. “Sounds like you two have a busy day.”

“Would you care to join us?” Rachel asked, and stood as well.

With a smile, Jake looked to the floor. “Maybe for dinner,” he said, then met her gaze. “I was sorry to have to cancel yesterday, but really enjoyed talking with you last night.”

Fucking Jake.
 

“Me too.” Rachel sent the sheriff a syrupy smile. “Same time, same place?”

Jake slipped into his coat. “Sounds good.”
 

“Yeah, sounds great,” Owen said. “I keep hearing about how fantastic the food is at River’s Edge.”

They both looked at him as if they’d forgotten he was in the room. Then Jake pulled out his car keys and nodded. “I’ll check in with you later,” he said to Rachel, who followed him into the foyer.

He had no idea what they were discussing, which bugged the shit out of him. Were they making plans for after dinner, maybe trying to figure out a way to ditch him so they could be alone? Not going to happen. The jealousy that had been clawing at him since yesterday finally pierced his gut.
 

Although he knew he could be making a monstrous mistake, jeopardizing his professional relationship with Rachel, his career with CORE, he had to know if there was something, anything between them. He didn’t mind her sassy mouth, or the abrasive barbs she’d throw at him. Actually, he loved the way she didn’t hold back around him, how she didn’t pretend to be anything but herself. Unlike a lot of the women he’d dated, Rachel didn’t try. Her “what you see is what you get” attitude intrigued him, made him want to climb inside her head and maybe her…heart?
 

No. This wasn’t about love. An intimate friendship with some hot benefits, that’s what he had in mind. Did she? He’d caught her checking him out last night when he’d gone to her room. The moment had been so brief he could have imagined it. Still, there had been other times when he’d been certain she held…something for him. Or maybe he was delusional and she was really into Jake.
 

Until he knew the answer, Jake didn’t have a chance in hell.
 

*

He rinsed out his coffee mug, then placed it on the top rack of the dishwasher. After drying his hand on the dishtowel, he put the toaster away, then reached inside the refrigerator for a bottle of water. In the time he’d been here, the pledge hadn’t had much to eat or drink, and he needed to make sure his puke didn’t dehydrate before the week ended. What fun would Hell Week be if he couldn’t make his pledge scream, cry and beg?

No fun at all.

But he could have a little fun now. Not much, he did have his day job to consider. Yes, just enough fun and games to remind the pledge of his fate. That he was nothing but a little puke. If the pledge hadn’t realized it last night, he’d understand by the day’s end. He’d understand who held the control, that his supremacy and domination outweighed that of anyone else in the young pledge’s life. Namely, the puke’s father.

After shrugging into his coat, he took the now cold, burnt toast from the counter, then shoved it into his coat pocket along with the water bottle. Smiling, anticipation humming through his veins, he moved into the hallway, then opened the trapdoor leading to the basement. Once he’d connected the garden hose to the utility sink, then dropped it through the trap door, he made his descent into the basement. When he reached the bottom rung of the ladder, he stepped onto the rock floor, then turned on the lantern.

“Good morning, puke.” He approached the pledge who flinched and winced, craned his neck away from the lantern’s light. Even standing a few feet away, the foul odor of feces and urine emanating from the puke caused bile to rise in his throat. He tamped down the urge to regurgitate the delicious crepes he’d eaten for breakfast and said, “It’s amazing how quickly our eyes adjust to the dark, isn’t it? Personally, I find the dark easier than the light. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The pledge kept his head turned, while his body shivered and his teeth chattered. “C-cold. S-s-so cold.”

“Then maybe we should do another round of calisthenics. That seemed to warm you up last night.”
 

“No. P-please, no.”

“I don’t have time anyway. Here.” Ignoring the pledge’s putrid scent, he pulled the burnt toast from his pocket, then shoved it in the boy’s face. “Eat it.”

The pledge’s dry lips cracked with tiny beads of blood as he opened his mouth without hesitation. His thin, pale cheeks hollowed as his jaw worked. After a moment had elapsed, he swallowed, then finally looked at him. “More. Please.”