Secret Hollows Page 15

  She turned quickly towards Ian. “We really should discuss the case now,” Mary interrupted. “Time’s a wasting.”

  “Sean mentioned it to you?” Mike asked, suddenly more interested.

  “Aye, let me see if I can remember exactly how he described it,” Ian said with a grin. “But I recall the title to be a wee bit different.”

  “No need to go into it,” Mary said. “I’m actually embarrassed that I brought it up. Please, let’s just drop it and move on.”

  “Ah, now I have the memory of it,” Ian said.

  “Have a cookie, Ian,” Mary said, standing up and reaching for a cookie from the plate in the middle of the table and shoving it at him, “something to keep your mouth busy.”

  “Come on, Mary,” Mike said. “Out with it. It’ll be better if you admit to it.”

  She plunked down on a chair and sighed. “Little Miss Irish Chicago,” she said reluctantly. “I was three and I got to ride on a float in the St. Patrick’s Day Parade.”

  “Aye, as charming and beautiful as a babe as you are now, obviously,” Ian said.

  “Yeah, what he said,” Mike added. “Hot is as hot does.”

  “Well, wow, thank you so much,” she said, smiling widely. “That is not the response I would have received from any of my brothers.”

  She turned to Bradley who hadn’t said a word. “Well?” she asked.

  He quickly shook his head. “What?” he replied, obviously distracted.

  Sighing, Mary shrugged her shoulders. “Never mind.”

  “I’m sorry, Mary,” he replied. “Once you mentioned that you were Miss Chicago, I pictured you in a bathing suit and I guess I kind forgot everything else.”

  She stood up, walked over and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Good answer,” she replied. “Now let’s get to work.”

  “Okay,” Bradley said, still a little confused about what he missed during their conversation. “But before we get started I have to give you something.”

  He pulled out his wallet and handed both Mary and Ian a dollar bill.

  “Did you owe me money I’ve forgotten?” Ian asked.

  “What’s this for?” Mary asked.

  “You are now both paid consultants for the Freeport Police Department,” he said. “So, in a court of law if you were asked, under oath, if you were paid consultants, you both can now say yes.”

  “Remind me never to be a paid consultant for that organization again,” Ian said to Mary, looking at the single dollar bill. “Bloody miserly if you ask me.”

  Mary laughed. “It’s the most I’ve received from them so far,” she said. “So, I’m not complaining.”

  “Okay,” Bradley said, “now that you’ve made fun of my department, let’s all compare notes. Mary, why don’t you start with what you learned at Emil’s home today?”

  “Aye, before it went up in flames,” Ian said.

  She put the medical records and the shopping bag with the swim trunks in the middle of the table. She was saving the photo to give to Emil when he got out of prison.

  “I spoke with Emil’s mother. She told me that he had a condition called Kallmann Syndrome that basically prevented him from going into puberty, in any way,” she said. “There’s a very good chance that physically he would have been unable to rape those boys and according to the research I’ve done this afternoon, even if he could physically he wouldn’t have had the urge or drive to do it.”

  Ian picked up the records and flipped through them; while Mike looked over his shoulder and read along with him. “You know, I remember talking with the boys about how Emil seemed to be more like our friend than an adult,” he said. “We used to wonder why he never had a beard.”

  “And so once his mother discovered the problem, she didn’t start him on any hormone treatments?” Ian asked.

  Mary shook her head. “No, she felt it was a blessing because Emil was a little mentally slow,” she explained. “So, she wouldn’t have to worry about that aspect of his life.”

  “Like dealing with a steer instead of a bull,” Mike said. “Easier to control.”

  “Why wasn’t this used in court?” Bradley asked. “This would have shut the case down, proved his innocence.”

  “From the little I read of the transcripts, once they had his confession, the overwhelming circumstantial evidence solidified his guilt and the defense was more concerned about keeping him from the death penalty than proving his innocence,” Mary said. “But now we have Ronny.”

  Mike nodded. “Yeah, well, the MO was the same,” he said. “Whatever bastard killed Timmy also killed Ronny. But Ronny’s body was tossed in the lake, with a rock tied around his waist.”

  Mike took a deep breath. “From the positioning of his skeletal remains, I’d guess Ronny wasn’t dead when he was tossed in. It looks like he spent a little time pulling on the rope to try and move the rock.”

  There was silence at the table for a few moments. Ian remembered the boy’s innocent laugh and thought about the terror Ronny must have felt at the bottom on the lake. Rage filled his heart. He pushed his chair out and walked a few steps away from the table, turning away from the others. He knew he had to think about solving the case, concentrate on the how to help Ronny and the other boys.

  “Hey, thanks for caring so much,” Mike said softly, gliding over to stand next to Ian. “But try not to think about it too much. It was twenty years ago, and, take it from someone who knows. We move on.”

  Ian turned to Mike. “But that’s the problem,” he replied, “They haven’t moved on. They’ve been stuck here, not understanding what happened to them. They’ve felt abandoned or frightened or lonely. Aye, it was twenty years ago, but to them, it was yesterday.”

  Mike shook his head. “You really shouldn’t be in this type of business,” he said. “You’re way too soft and you care too much.”

  “Aye, and who’s the one giving me advice?’ Ian asked and then added fiercely. “I really want to get this guy, Mike.”

  “We will, Ian, because you’re too soft and you care too much.”

  Chuckling, Ian nodded and turned back to the table. “So, who’s on the new list of suspects?”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  “This is what we know about the suspect,” Mary said. “He’s a male, anywhere from forty to eighty years in age. He’s most likely a local because he was able to set Emil up. Although he denies it to his victims, he gets a thrill out of the murder as well as the sexual abuse. He’s probably a pedophile, because as far as we know all of his victims were children.”

  “If we look at the psychological profiling of a pedophile, especially a preferential sadistic child molester, we need to remember to look at these three factors; selection, abduction process and victimization ritual,” Ian added.

  “So, what does that mean?” Mike asked. “I mean there was no selection process, he found the kids and then he murdered them.”

  Ian nodded. “So, that means it was a random selection process. Not a well-planned, stalking situation, but someone who looks for opportunity.”

  “Wait, before we make any assumptions,” Bradley interrupted, “we need to be sure there wasn’t a pattern. Other than Ronny, who we believe was the first victim; do the other five boys have anything in common?”

  “Well, I knew all of them, except for the kid from Freeport,” Mike said.

  “And did they know each other?” Mary asked.

  After jotting down some notes, Bradley took all of the victim profiles and laid them on the table in front of Mike. Mike picked them up and studied them.

  “Timmy and I went to school together,” he said. “Robbie was a year older than us, but he rode the bus home with me, so he didn’t know Timmy. Drew lived in Lena but went to a private school in Freeport, but I knew him from my Scout Troop. And Nick was on my Little League team.”

  “So, you knew all of the boys from Lena, but they didn’t have connections with one another,” Mary confirmed.

  Slowly shaking h
is head, Mike looked at the profiles again. “I never realized that,” he said.

  “Well, of course you didn’t,” Ian said. “You were ten years old.”

  Bradley picked up the final profile and handed it to Mike. “This is the boy from Freeport,” he said. “Maybe you forgot you knew him.”

  Mike reached out his hand for the paper, but shook his head. “The kid’s name was Jeremiah; you’d think I’d remember that.”

  He looked down at the paper and froze. “JD?” he said slowly. “His name’s not Jeremiah, it’s JD and he was from my FFA group. He lived in Freeport, but we did some projects together.”

  “FFA?” Ian asked.

  “Future Farmers of America,” Mike explained, “all the farm kids went to it.”

  He shook his head. “I’m the connection,” he said. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Well, maybe nothing,” Bradley said quickly. “But it gives us a focus.”

  “What else connects them?” Ian asked. “How about the times or the dates of their deaths?”

  “They all happened during a school vacation,” Mike said. “That’s why it was so easy to convict Emil because he had all of those days off.”

  “You were supposed to be with Timmy on the day he was killed,” Ian said, and then he added, “no guilt here, just trying to set up a situation.”

  Mike nodded.

  “Okay,” Ian continued, “how about those other boys. These dates mean anything special to you?”

  “Damn, Ian, it was twenty years ago, and I’m dead,” he complained. “I had a bad enough memory when I was alive.”

  Ian chuckled. “Come on, you still have some brains somewhere in there,” he said. “Let’s try it this way.”

  Ian picked up one of the pieces of paper. “April 1992,” he said. “Spring break. You were ten years old. What was the weather like?”

  “It was gorgeous outside,” Mike growled. “The nicest spring on record. Flowers blooming, birds singing.”

  “How can you remember that?” Mary asked.

  “Because I got chicken pox that year over spring break,” he said. “Instead of going to Little League practice, I had to stay in bed for the whole week.”

  “Who walked with you to Little League, when you went?” Ian asked.

  “Nick,” he said. “We’d meet…”

  His eyes went wide. “Nick disappeared during the time I had chicken pox.”

  “And Timmy disappeared when you stayed home and cleaned the chicken coop,” Bradley said.

  Mike grabbed the sheets again. “Drew…I went out of town with my mom, instead of going to the campout with the Scout Troop. Drew and I always stayed in the same tent, we always hiked together.”

  He picked up JD’s paper. “County fair,” he said. “The FFA was always in the same building, but there were tornado warnings, so Mom took me home. JD lived closer to the fairgrounds, so he got to stay.”

  “And I’ll bet if we look back, we’ll find a similar connection between you and Robbie,” Bradley said.

  “Selection process,” Mike said, shaking his head. “I was part of his damn selection process. Was I attracting him to the other boys?”

  “But you were never there,” Mary said. “You were always out of the picture. Never in harm’s way.”

  “I was being protected,” he said slowly. “The bastard was protecting me and going after my friends.”

  “Yeah,” Ian said. “And now we only have to figure out who and why.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Mary danced around the punching bag and threw a combination of upper cuts and jabs into its middle. She bounced back on the balls of her feet and then moved forward again, taking her frustrations out on the leather bag.

  “Hey, sister, slow down,” Ernie said. “You need to work on technique, not just beating it to death.”

  Mary stepped back and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Ernie, but it felt good.”

  “You got issues?” he asked.

  She nodded. “The case I’ve been working on,” she said. “The creep left the little boy tied to a rope at the bottom of the lake. And I think he set fire to Emil’s house, with me in it.”

  “You were in a fire?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, got some pretty colorful bruises to show for it.”

  “Are you sure you should be boxing this morning?” he asked.

  She started dancing back and forth again, her arms in a boxing stance. “Yeah, I’m good,” she said. “And, I’ve got to admit, it’s a little addicting.”

  He grinned, displaying the wide gap between his teeth. “Now, you’re talking, sister,” he said. “Now you’re talking.”

  Two hours later she was dressed in a business suit and heels, carrying a briefcase and walking down the hallway to the State’s Attorney’s office. She paused in front of a large oak door and knocked. Then she opened the door and peeked in.

  “Good morning, State’s Attorney Boettcher,” she said, as she entered the large, formal office. “Do you have a few minutes for me this morning?”

  State’s Attorney Alex Boettcher looked like he had just stepped down from the pages of GQ magazine. He was dressed in a tailored suit and blue silk tie that matched his eyes. He wore his hair a little longer than his conservative colleagues, and Mary was sure it was to distract female prosecutors, as they imagined themselves running their fingers through it.

  “Miss O’Reilly,” he said, rising from his chair and motioning to the leather chair on the other side of his desk. “I always have time for you.”

  She sat comfortably in the overstuffed leather and smiled at him. “So, Alex, how have you been?”

  “More to the point,” he said, sitting down across from her. “I’m hearing some nasty rumors coming out of the police department.”

  Mary sat forward. “Really? Tell me!”

  Laughing, he shook his head. “No, you’re supposed to confirm if they are rumors or not,” he explained.

  Leaning back against the chair, she shrugged slightly. “Well, I haven’t heard anything.”

  He templed his fingers and met her eyes. “I’ve heard the Chief’s intercom system has been malfunctioning,” he said, raising his eyebrows pointedly. “Know anything about that?”

  She bit her lower lip and shook her head. “Nope, can’t say I do.”

  “So you deny that you and he were engaged in…,” he paused and grinned at her. “… relationship building exercises, when his intercom malfunctioned. I understand there was some conversation about you, a little black dress and silk stockings.”

  “Oh…,” she paused for a moment and looked at him, concern on her face. “You don’t know… they didn’t tell you?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Well, I’m sure they must have merely overlooked… but, you’re the State’s Attorney,” she said, shaking her head. “Surely, they trusted…”

  She looked up suddenly and clapped her hand over her mouth. “Never mind,” she said. “Just ignore what I said.”

  “What did you say?” he asked, standing up and walking over to her side of the desk.

  “Exactly,” she answered. “Perfect.”

  He sat on the corner of his desk. “What is this all about?”

  She looked slowly around the room. “Are we alone?” she asked.

  He looked around the room too. “I think so.”

  She nodded. “It was a code. A secret code.”

  “Secret code?” he asked, leaning towards Mary. “And just what did it mean?”

  “If we told you we’d have to kill you,” Bradley said from the doorway.

  Alex sat up and looked at Bradley. “She was almost ready to break and tell me the truth.”

  “Oh, yes,” Mary agreed pleasantly. “I was shaking in my heels.”

  “She was about to spill,” he said. “Tell me all of your dirty secrets.”

  Bradley shrugged. “Wouldn’t be admissible in court.”

  Sitting back, Alex was surprised. “
Why not?”

  Walking over to stand behind her chair, Bradley leaned over and kissed Mary on the cheek. “Because a wife can’t testify against her husband.”

  “You two? The two of you? Both of you? Are getting married?” he asked.

  “See, darling, I told you he had a brilliant legal mind,” Mary teased.

  Grinning, Alex leaned forward. “So, do I get to kiss the bride?”

  “Sure, if you want your face broken,” Bradley said calmly.

  “He’s a little jealous,” Mary quipped and then she stood up and gave Alex a hug. “You’re coming, of course.”

  He kissed her on the cheek. “Of course I am,” he said. “When is it?”

  “June,” Mary said.

  “Early June,” Bradley added.

  “I’m happy for both of you,” he said. “Well, actually I’m really jealous, but I’ll pretend to be happy to ensure good working relationships.”

  “Big of you, Boettch, real big of you,” Bradley said, taking the chair next to Mary. “Has Mary told you why we wanted to meet with you?”

  Alex moved back around his desk and sat down. “I’m guessing it wasn’t to issue a wedding invitation, right?”

  Mary pulled the shopping bag and folder from her briefcase and laid it on his desk. “Have you ever heard of Emil Forrest?” she asked.

  “Sure, the child killer from Lena,” Alex said. “I’ve had to review all of the cases our county has on death row.”

  Mary opened the folder and held out the information. “Look at this,” she said.

  Alex scanned the document. “What the hell? Why wasn’t this brought out in the original case?”

  “We also believe there is another victim of the killer,” Bradley added. “A young boy who was reported missing about a year before the other murders. Ronny Goodridge. He’s still considered a missing person.”

  “You have evidence he was murdered?” he asked.

  “We believe we’ve located his body,” she answered. “It’s in the middle of Lake Le-Aqua-Na.”

  “This was primarily a case out of Lena,” he said. “Have you reported your findings to them?”