Stolen Lives : The Lives Trilogy Book 1 (11 page)

Sheriff Pat Blizel hammered his patrol car down Highway 8 to Mary’s Place, a trip that would normally take twenty minutes, but on this night took less than ten.  He only hoped there were no deer or black bear crossing the road.  He’d hate to think what would happen if Bambi or Smokey collided with his cruiser pushing ninety.  He figured with the sirens and lights, he’d be pretty safe, and that any wildlife in the area would high tail it deeper into the woods that ran along both sides of the highway.

He took the intersection of Highways 8 and 141 at sixty and slammed hard into the diner’s parking lot sending gravel and dirt flying everywhere.  Mary started to get out of her Explorer, but Blizel motioned her to get back into it.  She did and for good measure, locked it.

He pulled out his .45 and approached the van cautiously from the driver side, back to front, looking into the side mirrors and windows as he did: nothing and no one.  A patrol car came screaming up 141 as he went back to his cruiser and called in the plate.  Deputy Earl Coffey pulled to a stop on the other side of the van, opened up his door and crouched behind it with his .45 out, aiming at the passenger side door.

“It’s locked and empty as far as I can tell,” Blizel yelled.  “What’s the ETA on the tow truck?”

“Twenty to thirty minutes,” Coffey yelled back.

“No time.  Do you have a Slim Jim?”

Earl holstered, popped the trunk and pulled out a thin metal strip.  He gave the van a wide berth as he came up to Pat’s car.

“Want me to pop it open, or do you want to?”

Blizel spit into the dirt, wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand and said, “Cover me.”

As Earl pulled out his piece and crouched behind Blizel’s open door, aiming at the van, Pat holstered his .45 and pulled out surgical gloves.  He moved to the driver’s door and using the Slim Jim, popped open the door, causing the van alarm to go off.  Pat pressed the panic button on the key fob on the key ring in the ignition and all was quiet again. 

He pressed the unlock button and opened the side door on the driver’s side.  Nothing and no one, except for what looked like a boy’s clothes.  A pair of beat up athletic shoes, Levi’s, a plain yellow t-shirt and soiled boxers.  And trace amounts of what looked like blood.  And handcuffs.  One end open with the other attached to the interior wall of the van.

“Earl, call dispatch and tell them to get a hold of Wausau again.  Tell them we might have a secondary crime scene.”

Without a word, Earl called it in.  Just as he finished, the report on the van’s plates came back.

“Oh-one-eighty, this is dispatch.  You copy?”

Pat walked over to his car and said, “Oh-one-eighty, over.”

“The plates came back as stolen out of Milwaukee.  Owner reported it two days ago. Over.”

Pat glanced over at Earl and then said, “Contact Pete Kelliher right away and tell him what we have.”

*                                                        *                                                        *

Garrett didn’t know where to begin.  He had started and stammered several times not sure what to say or how to say it, thinking he was being stupid, yet deep down knowing he wasn’t.

“Garrett, why do you think you know who took the boys?”

There was a long silence before he spoke, again trying to find the words.  This was his secret.  A secret he had tried to forget, to deny it had ever happened.  If he told someone, then it wouldn’t be a secret any longer and even worse, he would be unable to deny it had happened.

“Because he did stuff to me . . . he does stuff to at least two of my friends.”

“Would it be easier if you and I and my dad talked in person?”

“My parents don’t know.  I don’t want them to know.”

“Garrett, I know this is hard.  It was hard for me too.  You don’t have to tell them by yourself.  We can tell them together; you, me and my dad.”

Silence, considering.

“I don’t know . . . ok, I guess,” he answered with a sniff and a sigh.  “Ok.”

His secret would now come out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

When Randy and Jeremy first came to the door and introduced themselves, Keith and Kim Forstadt were puzzled. But the puzzlement grew to concern pretty quickly.  Randy met with Garrett in his bedroom, while Jeremy met with his parents around the kitchen table.  Garrett’s older brother, Graham, was at a friend’s house, as was his younger sister, Gwen.  That made it easier to get his story without any distraction.

Jeremy faced dismay, denial, and anger, and it was nothing new to him.  He had faced this eight times in the last two years, ever since Randy had come into his life, and ever since law enforcement agencies and various children’s welfare agencies had heard about the two of them and their abilities to help with abused children and their families.  He accepted the Forstadt’s anger, their questions and their denial.  Having been a counselor all these years had helped.

“What you have to understand is that what happened wasn’t your son’s fault.  You have to understand that this man has practiced preying on kids.  He grooms them . . .”

“He
what
?”  Keith said, leaning forward, straining to understand.  “He
grooms
them?  What the hell does that mean?” his voice rising more than a little.

Kim placed her hand on his forearm, but he pulled his arm away.

“Has this man spent an inordinate amount of time with Garrett?  Has he given him any gifts?  Has he made some sort of promise to your son, given him extra attention or complements that might not ring true?  Has he taken your son and others on a trip or had them sleep over?”

Jeremy watched realization wash over their faces, watched them look at each other as it sunk in, first with Kim and then with Keith.

“That’s grooming,” Jeremy said quietly.  “These men are predators in every sense of the word.  They prey on children and their innocence.  They’re not motivated by love or caring because they only want to control and dominate.  Kids like Garrett don’t have a chance.”

“But how could Garrett let this man . . .” Keith asked.

“At first, Garrett probably saw this man as a mentor . . . a role model.  He’s flattered by the extra attention.  He sees this guy as a friend.  There is a
trust
that develops.  Then, Garrett is led to believe that what he’s about to do or has done is normal.  He’s shown pornography, pictures, or videos showing these acts as
normal
.  Garrett is a kid.  This is his role model, his coach, an adult.  If
he
says it’s ok, it
must
be ok.

“And then it happens, and he’s afraid and ashamed.  If he resists, or if the pedophile thinks Garrett might tell someone, Garrett is told he might get in trouble . . . that people won’t believe him because he’s a kid, and who would ever suspect a coach . . . someone who’s successful, who’s coached for five, ten, fifteen years?  Who would believe him?”

“Jesus
Christ
. . .” Keith said quietly.  “I never suspected,” he said shaking his head.

“He’s a nice guy . . .” Kim started to say, but let it drift.

“What?”  Jeremy asked.

They exchanged a look between them, an unspoken message that married couples often give each other, and then Keith said, “He’s a nice guy.  He cares about kids . . .” 

He and his wife exchanged another look.

“We just thought he’s kind of . . . different . . . odd.”  Keith said.

“Some of the other parents felt the same way,” Kim added.  “But he was always good to the kids.”

“Pedophiles are more comfortable with kids.  They tend to not have many, if any, adult friendships or relationships.  They tend to be single men between the ages of twenty and fifty, though there are cases where some have been younger or older and some who have been married.  These predators gravitate to jobs that present them with opportunities to develop relationships with kids.  They volunteer for opportunities that give them opportunities to be around kids.”

Jeremy let that sink in and then said, “You saw the Amber Alert.  The two boys are the same age as Garrett.  We know it’s a long-shot, but Garrett believes this man might have taken them.”

“But really, what are the chances that Jim Rodemaker took those two boys?” Keith asked doubtfully.

“As I said, it’s a long-shot.  First, Garrett has to tell us his story, and that isn’t going to be easy for him or for you.  Garrett loves you, and like all kids, he wants you to be proud of him, to know that even though he made a mistake, you love him.”

“My God!  Of course we love him,” Kim said, brushing away a tear.

“I know that, and you know that, and deep down, Garrett knows that,” Jeremy answered.  Then in a quiet voice, he said, “But he’s scared and ashamed.  His story will be hard for him to tell, and it will be horrifically hard for you to hear.”

He looked at Kim and then at Keith and let that sink in.  They looked at each other.  Kim wiped away another tear, took a deep breath and nodded.

*                                                        *                                                        *

Pete drank black coffee, while Jamie nursed a coke.  Billy had a strawberry shake and George a chocolate one.  There were only two other customers in Hardee’s, teenagers who might have been on a first date.  They shared fries, and in general, were pretty sappy.  Jamie wanted to gag.

Pete’s phone chirped, and he answered by simply saying, “Yeah.”

It was Summer.

“We’ve just landed.  Chet’s done some digging on this guy; no records, single, never married, pays his taxes on time, nothing out of line, and has two older sisters and a younger brother.  The sisters are married.  One lives near Madison in Monona Grove, and the other lives near Green Bay in Suamico.  The brother lives in Brown Deer, which is just north of Milwaukee.  His father is deceased; died three years ago.  His mother is in a nursing home in Milwaukee.  Rodemaker manages a pizza place.  He’s just sort of ordinary.”

“Yeah . . . ordinary.”

He glanced at the two boys.  Billy pretended to drink his shake, while George lowered his eyes and then turned his head and stared out the window.

“Jamie has him under surveillance.”

“Where are you?”

“We’re waiting to talk to the boy.  We’re expecting a call any minute.  Once we get some details, we’ll move on the guy.  We have a judge waiting to sign the warrant.”

“We should be there in forty-five minutes or less.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

*                                                        *                                                        *

Jeremy had heard Patty Wetterling speak about missing and sexually exploited children a half-dozen times, and while there were many things she had said that stuck with him, there was one statement that had resonated with him more than any other: 
All it takes is one brave kid to put a pedophile away
.  Sitting in the Forstadt family room listening to Garrett tell his story, Jeremy couldn’t help but apply that statement to the boy.  He struggled in front of his mother and especially in front of his father.  His posture expressed shame, regret, and profound sadness.  Yet, the more he talked, the more relieved he became.  It was apparent to Jeremy what a heavy burden this secret had been.

Garrett was nervous, but Randy’s pep talk in the bedroom had helped.  Randy sat on one side of him while his mother sat on the other side.  His father stood off to the side near the fireplace.  Pete stood next to him, while Jamie stood behind Jeremy, who sat in a chair facing the couch.  Billy and George were outside, sitting on the front porch. 

It took forty minutes for Garrett to tell his story.  He spoke in a voice just above a whisper, and he buried his chin into his chest.  When he did look up, he’d glance furtively at his father and not at his mother at all.

Jeremy would ask a question or two for clarification or to get him started.  When Garrett would seem stuck, he would prompt him with an open-ended sentence.  Other than that, Garrett described what took place, where it took place, and how it took place.

It was painful for him to talk about and painful to listen to.  Jeremy watched Randy as much as he did Garrett, because each time a story like this was told, Randy relived the night he was abused, molested and raped.  Jeremy knew that he’d have to pick up the pieces once they got home and for a couple of days after.  But this was different somehow.  There was something going on in Randy’s mind as he listened to Garrett.

“Garrett, there’s probably a lot you want to tell us.  There’s probably a lot you need to tell us just to get this off your chest.  I know it isn’t easy,” Jeremy said looking intently at the boy. “I want you to know how incredibly brave you are.  I know this isn’t easy, not for you or for your parents.”

Garrett nodded and took a deep breath.  A tear ran down his face.  Kim saw that and took his hand in both of hers.

“It’s okay, Garrett.  It wasn’t your fault, no matter what you think,” she said.

Garrett lowered his head and wiped tears from his face.  Randy reached over and grabbed a couple of Kleenex’s from a box on the end table and handed them to him.

“He said that he wanted me to be the captain of the team, but that he needed to trust me, and that I needed to trust him.  I told him he could.  He said that he needed to get to know me better, and that he had to be absolutely certain that he could trust me running the team on the field.”  Garrett shrugged and said, “I told him he could.”

Garrett wiped his eyes with the Kleenex, and then blew his nose.  Without asking, Randy took them from him and handed him fresh ones.

“He put his arm around me, and he kissed my head.  He held me and then . . . then . . .” 

And that was how it went.  For forty minutes, Garrett told them about the night with his coach.  Kim put her arm around the boy, but Garrett seemed to sink further into the couch.

“I didn’t like it, but I was afraid to tell him not to.  I wanted to be captain, and if I told him to stop, he wouldn’t trust me, and I wouldn’t be captain.”

His chin lay on his chest and he was quiet for a bit before Randy said, “Go ahead, Garrett.”

“He said that he knew what might help, and he went over to the TV and turned on a video.”

He looked squarely at Jeremy, then at Jamie and said, “It was sick.”

“What was the video?”  Jamie asked.

“I don’t know the name, but it was Coach and Phil doing stuff to each other.”

“Phil Kuehl?”  Keith asked incredulously.

Garrett nodded. 

“Phil is a teammate of Garrett’s.  He and Garrett were friends, and they used to hang out but not lately,” Keith said.

His eyes widened as he realized what he had said, and now he understood why they hadn’t been hanging out.

“If we go to Coach Rodemaker’s house, will we know where the video is?” Jamie asked.

“He has all kinds of videos on a shelf next to the TV.  The ones of  . . . you know . . . they’re in a cupboard behind the TV.”

“There are others besides the one of him and Phil?”  Jamie asked.

Garrett nodded and said, “Lots of them.”

“Did you recognize any of the boys in the videos?”  Jamie asked.

“Some.  Danny Pickett.  Brett Connolly.  There were other boys I didn’t recognize."

“These videos, were they filmed in his house?”  Pete asked.

“Some . . . the ones with Danny, Brett and Phil.  But the ones with the boys I didn’t know were filmed someplace else.  I don’t know where.”

“Garrett, think for a minute.  You saw the videos.  Do you think the boys knew they were being video-taped?” Jamie asked.

He screwed up his face in thought and then shook his head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why?” Pete asked.

“They were doin’ stuff that was gross.  It was embarrassing, and if they knew they were making a video, they wouldn’t have done that stuff.”

“Were there any pictures of kids?” Pete asked.

Garrett hung his head and then nodded.  Jamie and Pete exchanged a look, as did Randy and Jeremy.  Keith and Kim knew something had happened, but weren’t sure what it was.

Changing the subject, Jamie asked, “About how many of these videos do you think he has?”

Garrett shrugged, puffed out his cheeks and said, “A bunch.”

“Garrett,” Jeremy said, “I know this is really difficult, but you’re going to need to be specific about what he did because the police are going to arrest him.  That way, he won’t be able to do this to any other boys.”

Garrett’s face turned blank, empty. 
A thousand yard stare
were the words Jeremy used to describe the look to parent groups and to law enforcement agencies.  Once you see it, you know it and won’t ever forget it.

He told his story, and once he began, he didn’t stop.  He didn’t look at his mother or his father, but studied his hands clenched and tight in his lap.  As he spoke, there was a certain determination, perhaps resignation, but also relief.