Текст книги "The Missing"

Автор книги: Chris Mooney

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter 28

By noon, Darby had learned most of the facts on Rachel Swanson’s disappearance.

In the early morning hours of New Year’s Day, 2001, twenty-three-year-old Rachel Swanson said good-bye to her close friends in Nashua, New Hampshire, and made the hour’s drive back to the Durham, to the house she had recently moved into with her boyfriend, Chad Bernstein, who had skipped the party because he was ill. Lisa Dingle, a neighbor returning home from her own New Year’s Eve celebration, saw Rachel’s Honda Accord pull into the driveway sometime around two a.m. Rachel waved to her neighbor and entered through the side door of her house.

An hour later, Dingle, an insomniac, was still up reading in bed when she heard a car start. She glanced up from her book and saw Chad Bernstein’s black BMW backing out of the driveway.

Five days later, when Lisa Dingle learned that both Bernstein and his girlfriend were missing, she called the police.

Police focused their attention on Bernstein. The thirty-six-year-old software engineer had been previously married, and the ex-wife was all too willing to tell police the stories about her former husband’s physical abuse. She knew her ex was capable of hurting a woman, and the police knew it, too. The former wife had called 911 three times. During their last argument, Chad had pulled a knife and threatened to kill her.

Bernstein traveled extensively around the country for business. Three times a year he visited his office’s London branch. A thorough investigation of Bernstein’s house failed to produce his passport. The BMW was never found.

At quarter to one, the New Hampshire state lab faxed over the evidence report from the case. There was no sign of a forced entry, but boot prints were discovered in a flower bed outside one of the back windows – a man’s boot print, size eleven. A mold of the footwear impression was taken, and the forensics technician Darby spoke to promised to send out a comparison sample via FedEx later today.

‘So instead of shooting Chad Bernstein, our guy abducts the boyfriend,’ Coop told Darby. They were jogging through the Public Garden, having decided to take advantage of the unusually warm fall weather and clear their heads. ‘The question before us is why.’

‘It makes the pattern less noticeable,’ Darby said. ‘Plus this guy is smart enough to abduct women from different states, so when a detective gets on NCIC or VICAP, he can’t find a common denominator except missing women – and women disappear all the time, right?’

‘And he mixes up the pattern at the crime scenes. Terry Mastrangelo was abducted outside of her house. Rachel Swanson was grabbed when she came home, and then he took her and her boyfriend somewhere. Then our guy goes inside Carol Cranmore’s house, shoots the boyfriend and leaves with her.’

‘If Rachel Swanson hadn’t escaped, we’d be looking in all the wrong places.’

‘You know what I keep wondering? How long has he been doing this?’

‘We know he’s been doing it for at least five years,’ Darby said. ‘Now we’ve got to figure out what he’s using these women for. I’m hoping the blood from the house finds a match on CODIS.’

‘I keep playing around with those letters you found on Rachel Swanson’s wrist. I can’t see the pattern. Any new thoughts?’

‘Nothing beyond what I told you before about it being directions for something.’

They jogged up a set of stairs and then ran over the bridge overlooking the swan boats, heading toward the Common. Darby had to run fast to keep up.

Twenty minutes later, Darby spotted a hot dog cart and stopped running. ‘I need to eat something before I pass out,’ she said. ‘You want anything?’

‘I’ll take a bottle of water.’

While she ordered a chili dog loaded with onions and a Coke, Coop made small talk with a female jogger dressed in very tight spandex. Darby noticed two professionally dressed women eating their lunch on a bench; they were staring at Coop. Darby wondered if Carol’s abductor had done that, had sat on a bench somewhere like the Public Garden, waiting for someone to catch his eye.

Was it as simple as that? Darby hoped the selection process wasn’t some random intersection. She very much wanted to believe all three women shared one single common denominator.

Darby handed Coop his water. A moment later, he joined her on a bench set up across from rows of colorful mums arranged around a water fountain.

‘You know what’s missing from this hot dog?’ Darby said.

‘Real meat?’

‘No, Fritos.’

‘The stuff you eat, it’s amazing you don’t have an ass the size of an elephant.’

‘You’re right, Coop. Maybe I should just eat heads of lettuce like your last girlfriend. It was great when she passed out at the Christmas party.’

‘I told her she should splurge and have some ranch dressing with her celery sticks.’

‘Seriously, do you ever feel guilty for being so shallow?’

‘Yes. I cry myself to sleep every night.’ Coop shut his eyes and leaned back against the bench to soak up the last of the afternoon sun.

Darby shook her head. She gathered up her trash and brought it over to the garbage can.

‘Excuse me.’ It was the good-looking blonde Coop had been speaking to a few minutes ago. ‘I hope you don’t think this is too forward of me, but that guy you’re sitting with, is he your boyfriend?’

Darby finished chewing. ‘He was until he came out of the closet,’ she said.

‘Why are all the good-looking guys gay?’

‘It was for the best anyway. The man is hung like a cocktail weiner. His name is Jackson Cooper, lives in Charlestown. Warn all your friends.’

Coop was eyeing Darby when she came back. ‘What were you two talking about?’

‘She was asking for directions to Cheers.’

‘Darb, you grew up in Belham.’

‘Unfortunately, yes.’

‘You remember the Summer of Fear?’

She nodded. ‘Victor Grady made six women disappear that summer.’

‘One of his victims was from Charlestown, this girl named Pamela Driscol,’ Coop said. ‘She was friends with my sister Kim. They were at some party one night, and Pam walked home and vanished. Pam was… She was just this really nice person. Very shy. She used to cover her mouth when she laughed because she had an overbite. Every time she came over she brought me a Hershey’s Kiss. I can still remember her sitting in my sister’s bedroom, listening to Duran Duran records and giggling about how cute Simon LeBon was.’

‘I thought the bass player was better looking.’

‘He didn’t do it for me.’ Coop’s face turned serious. ‘When Pam disappeared, everyone in town thought we had a boogeyman prowling around at night. My mother was so paranoid, she made my sisters move up to the second floor. She wanted an alarm system, but we couldn’t afford one, so she convinced my old man to change all the locks on the house and install some extra deadbolts. Sometimes at night I’d wake up and hear a noise, and it would be my mother running around downstairs making sure the doors and windows were locked. My sisters wouldn’t walk anywhere alone. Not that they could. Charlestown had instituted a curfew because ofwhat happened to Pam.’

Coop wiped the sweat from his face. ‘Wasn’t one of Grady’s victims from Belham?’

‘There were two,’ Darby said. ‘Melanie Cruz and Stacey Stephens.’

‘Did you know them?’

‘We went to school together. I was friends with Melanie – good friends.’

‘So you know what I’m talking about,’ Coop said. ‘That’s what this case reminds me of, that same kind of fear.’

They jogged back to the station and hit the showers. Darby was drying her hair when her cell phone rang. The caller was Dr Hathcock from Mass General. It was difficult to hear her over the screaming.

‘What did you say?’ Darby asked.

‘I said Jane Doe just woke up. She’s yelling for someone named Terry.’

Chapter 29

Darby was relieved to see two additional patrolmen stationed outside the ICU doors.

‘Doc’s waiting for you inside,’ the chubby one said with a wry grin. ‘Enjoy.’

Darby was wondering what he meant when she saw the tall, balding man huddled against the wall around the corner from Rachel Swanson’s room, having a private conversation with Dr Hathcock. The man’s name was Dr Thomas Lomborg. He was the hospital’s director of psychiatry and author of several bestselling books on deviant criminal behavior.

‘Damn,’ Coop said, patting down his pockets.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I forgot to pack my pompous asshole repellent.’

‘Play nice.’

Darby flinched at the painful cry coming from down the corridor: ‘TERRY!’

Quick introductions all around. Lomborg spoke first.

‘I gave Jane Doe a mild sedative to calm her down. As you can hear, it hasn’t had much of an effect. Dr Hathcock and I both agree her physical condition is still too risky to handle an antipsychotic drug, and I’m a bit leery of prescribing one until I can diagnose her mental condition. Dr Hathcock told me Jane Doe believes you’re this person named Terry?’

‘She did the other night, when I found her under the porch,’ Darby said. ‘Her name is Rachel Swanson.’

‘Is Terry a real person?’

‘Yes, she is. I can’t get into specifics, but Terry and Rachel knew each other for an extended period of time.’

‘Can you at least tell me the circumstances of their relationship? It might help me with a diagnosis and possible treatment.’

‘They endured the same trauma,’ Darby said.

‘Which is?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘And Rachel Swanson? Can you tell me anything about her?’

‘Nothing that would be helpful,’ Darby said. ‘Has she spoken at all? Said anything beyond calling out for Terry?’

‘Not to my knowledge.’ Lomborg looked to Dr Hathcock, who was shaking her head.

‘TERRY, WHERE ARE YOU?’

‘I want to go in her room and see if I can talk to her again,’ Darby said.

‘I’ll be in there when you question her,’ Lomborg said.

‘Rachel won’t talk if you’re in there – if anyone is in there. She wouldn’t talk until I was alone with her.’

‘Then I’ll listen outside the door.’

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that,’ Darby said. ‘For whatever reason, this woman trusts me, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that trust.’

Lomborg stiffened. The dark circles under his eyes were covered with a light concealer so he’d look good for the camera crews camped out in front of the hospital.

‘Are you going to record your conversation?’ Lomborg asked.

‘I am.’

‘I want a copy before you leave.’

‘You’ll get one after it’s been reviewed.’

‘This is not only highly irregular, it’s against hospital procedure.’

‘TEEERRRRRRRRY!’

‘Dr Lomborg, I don’t want to argue, I want to get in there and calm Rachel down,’ Darby said. ‘What would you suggest I do?’

‘That’s difficult to say, since I don’t have much information about the case, or the circumstances causing her trauma. She’s in a highly agitated state because she wants out of her restraints. Under no circumstances are you to do that. Despite your success the previous evening, Rachel may not be as receptive this time. She attacked a nurse.’

‘Yes, I know. Dr Hathcock told me what happened yesterday.’

‘I was referring to this morning’s incident,’ Lom-borg said. ‘A nurse, thinking Rachel Swanson was still sedated, reached across her face to change a bandage, and Rachel bit her arm. Speaking ofwhich, what’s this business about the numbers and letters she wrote on her wrist?’

‘We don’t know.’ Come on, you stuffy bastard, let me in there.

‘You need to try and convince her that we’re here to help. She seems to think she’s being kept somewhere. That’s all I can tell you.’

Rachel Swanson screamed for help, her bed thumping against the floor.

‘Those two gentlemen standing outside her door, the ones dressed in hospital whites, they’re psychiatric orderlies,’ Lomborg said. ‘They know how to restrain patients, if it comes to that.’

‘That’s fine, but I don’t want them or anyone else looking through the window. It might scare her.’ Darby took out her microcassette recorder. It was a small model, easily concealed inside a shirt pocket, and held a brand-new ninety-minute tape.

‘I know you’re anxious to get in there,’ Lomborg said, ‘but please understand this: If anything happens to you, the hospital will not be held liable. Are we clear on that point?’

Darby nodded. She pressed the RECORD button and tucked the recorder in her shirt pocket.

It seemed to take a long time to reach the door.

Gripping the cold steel handle, Darby fished for some scrap of memory, some thought or image she could use to keep her anchored against the rising tide of fear. The summer when she came back home for the first time, Sheila told her there was nothing in the house that could hurt her and held her hand as they walked through the house together. Her mother wasn’t here, and nobody was going to hold her hand. Nobody was holding Carol Cranmore’s hand.

Darby took in a deep breath and held it as she opened the door.

Chapter 30

Rachel Swanson’s body was drenched in sweat. Her eyes were clamped shut and she was whispering to herself, as if saying a prayer.

Darby walked toward the bed, taking slow, quiet steps. Rachel Swanson didn’t stir, didn’t move. When Darby reached the side of the bed, she leaned in close to make out the words caught between Rachel’s pinched, wheezing voice:

‘One R L three R L.’

Rachel was chanting the words she had written on her arm.

‘Two L R two R L R R S L – no R, the last one is R.’

Darby placed the tape recorder on the pillow. She waited a moment, listening as Rachel Swanson counted all the way to six and then started over.

‘Rachel, it’s me. Terry.’

Rachel Swanson’s eyes flew open, focused. ‘Terry, oh thank God you found me.’ She tugged at her restraints. ‘He’s got me. He’s got me good this time.’

‘He’s not here.’

‘Yes, he is. I saw him.’

‘There’s no one in here but you and me. You’re safe.’

‘He came to me last night and put on these handcuffs.’

‘You’re in a hospital,’ Darby said. ‘You… accidentally attacked a nurse.’

‘He injected me again and before I fell asleep. I saw him look around my cell.’

‘You’re in a hospital. There are people here who want to help you – I want to help you.’

Rachel moved her head up off the pillow. Her bloody and nearly toothless smile made Darby want to scream.

‘I know what he’s looking for,’ Rachel said, her arms and legs straining against the restraints. ‘I took it from his office. He can’t find it because I buried it.’

‘What did you bury?’

‘I’ll show you, but you’ve got to find a way to help me out of these handcuffs. I can’t find my handcuff key. I must have dropped it.’

‘Rachel, do you trust me?’

‘Please, I can’t… ’ Rachel started crying. ‘I can’t fight him anymore. I don’t have anything left.’

‘You don’t have to fight anymore. You’re safe. You’re inside a hospital now. There are people here who are going to help you get better.’

Rachel Swanson wasn’t listening. She eased her head back against the pillow and shut her eyes.

You’re not getting anywhere. Try something else.

Darby slipped her hand inside Rachel’s, the woman’s bony fingers lifeless and rough against her skin.

‘I’ll protect you, Rachel. Tell me where he is, and I’ll find him.’

‘I told you, he’s here.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘I don’t know his name.’

‘What does he look like?’

‘He doesn’t have a face. He keeps changing his face.’

‘What do you mean?’

Rachel started shaking.

‘It’s okay,’ Darby said. ‘I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.’

‘You were there. You saw what he did to Paula and Marci.’

‘I know, but I’m having trouble remembering. Remind me what happened.’

Rachel’s bottom lip quivered. She didn’t answer.

‘I saw the letters and numbers you wrote on your wrist,’ Darby said. ‘The letters are directions, aren’t they? L equals left, R equals right.’

Rachel opened her eyes. ‘It doesn’t matter if you go right or left or straight, they all lead to dead ends, remember?’

‘But you found a way out.’

‘There’s no way out of here, there are only places to hide.’

‘What do the numbers mean?’

‘You’ve got to find the key before he comes back. Look under my bed, I might have dropped it there.’

‘Rachel, I need –’

‘FIND THE KEY!’

As Darby pretended to look around the floor, she wondered if Rachel would reveal more information if she wasn’t in her restraints. Lomborg would never allow it – not without him being in the room, not without the orderlies present.

‘Did you find it, Terry?’

‘I’m still looking.’

Think. Don’t let this opportunity slip away. Think.

‘Hurry, the door’s going to open any minute,’ Rachel said.

No one was standing outside the door; no one was even near the door. As much as she hated the idea, Darby wanted to go consult that stuffy prick Lomborg and see if he had any ideas.

‘I can’t find it,’ Darby said.

‘It’s here, I just dropped it.’

‘I’m going to get help.’

Rachel Swanson bucked against her restraints.

‘DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE WITH HIM, DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE ME ALONE AGAIN.’

Darby grabbed her hand. ‘It’s okay. I won’t let him hurt you, I promise.’

‘Don’t leave me, Terry, please don’t leave me.’

‘I won’t leave you. I’m not going anywhere.’ Using her foot, Darby pulled a chair over and sat down. Think.

Okay. Rachel thinks we’re still trapped, so let’s go along with the delusion.

‘Who else is in here with us?’

‘There’s no one left,’ Rachel said. ‘Paula and Marci are dead, and Chad…’ Rachel started crying again.

‘What happened to Chad?’

Rachel wouldn’t answer.

‘Paula and Marci,’ Darby said. ‘What are their last names? I can’t remember.’

No answer.

‘There’s someone else down here with us,’ Darby said. ‘Her name is Carol. Carol Cranmore.’

‘There’s no one named Carol in here.’

‘She’s sixteen. She needs our help.’

‘I haven’t seen her. Is she new?’

‘Where is she?’

Think, don’t blow it.

‘I heard her cry out for help,’ Darby said, ‘but I can’t see her.’

‘She must be on the other side. How long has she been down here?’

‘A little over a day.’

‘She’s probably still sleeping. He always makes them sleep when they first get here, puts drugs in the food. The doors won’t open for awhile, then. There’s still time.’

‘What’s he going to do to her?’

‘Is she tough? Is she a fighter?’

‘She’s scared,’ Darby said. ‘We need to help her.’

‘We need to get to her before the doors open. You’ve got to get me out of these handcuffs.’

‘What happens when the doors open?’

‘Get me out of these handcuffs, Terry.’

‘I will, just tell me –’

‘I’ve helped you, Terry. All those times I showed you where to hide, all those times I protected you – now it’s your turn to help me. Get me out of these goddamn handcuffs right now.’

‘I will. Let’s call out to Carol and tell her what to do.’

Rachel Swanson stared at the ceiling.

‘Carol needs our help, Rachel. Tell her what to do.’

The tape ended with a loud click. Rachel didn’t move, didn’t look; she just kept staring at the ceiling.

Darby flipped the tape over and started recording.

It didn’t matter. Rachel Swanson refused to speak.

Chapter 31

Darby was exhilarated and scared, running on fumes of hope. She pushed the door open, wanting to find a pen and paper, afraid that if she didn’t write everything down she’d lose it. She reminded herself she didn’t have to rush. The whole conversation was caught on tape.

The crowd outside Rachel Swanson’s room had doubled. Darby scanned the faces, looking for Coop – there he was, at the far end of the hallway, talking on the phone behind the reception area. He hung up just as she reached him.

‘That was the lab,’ Coop said. ‘Leland just got a call from Banville. A package with Dianne Cranmore’s name was found on the stairs of a house in Belham, about twenty minutes away from where Carol lives. The return address has Carol’s name on it. As far as I know, nobody saw who dropped it.’

‘What’s in the package?’

‘Don’t know yet. It’s on the way to the lab.’

‘I want you to head back to the lab and wait for the package. Ask Mary Beth to do a search for two more names – Paula and Marci. I don’t know their last names. Tell her to limit the search to New England.’

‘And what are you going to do?’

‘I need to talk to Lomborg.’

‘Be nice,’ Coop said.

Lomborg’s mood had not improved. He crossed his arms as he listened to her idea about temporarily removing Rachel Swanson’s restraints.

‘There is absolutely no way in hell I’ll allow that,’ Lomborg said.

‘What if we move her to a psychiatric facility? We’d be better equipped there, and you could watch her over a monitor.’ Some rooms, Darby knew, were equipped with cameras to watch patients.

Lomborg looked like he was about to take the bait, but Dr Hathcock was shaking her head.

‘We can’t move her until the sepsis is under control,’ Hathcock said. ‘She seems to be responding to antibiotics, but that could change. The next forty-eight hours are critical.’

‘Carol Cranmore might not have that kind of time,’ Darby said.

‘I hear you – and God knows I’d do anything in my power to help you find that missing girl,’ Hathcock said. ‘But my first and primary responsibility is my patient. I can’t allow her to be moved until the sepsis is under control – and I can’t allow her to be taken out of the restraints. She’s hooked up to IV lines. In the mental condition she’s in, she’d probably rip them out.’

‘Could we take them out for a short period of time? Say, an hour?’ Darby was desperate, willing to clutch at any possibility.

‘It’s too risky,’ Hathcock said. ‘We need to get the sepsis under control. I’m sorry.’

Alone inside the woman’s bathroom, Darby splashed cold water on her face until her skin was numb.

Darby ran her wet hands against the cool porcelain edges of the sink. During the first year of Mel’s disappearance, Darby often touched things, their textures a way of reassuring herself that she was alive. As she dried off her hands, she prayed for Carol to be clever, to find a way to survive.

Coming out of the bathroom, Darby rounded the corner, heading for the elevators. Mathew Banville was in the waiting room. Standing next to him, dressed in a sharp suit, was Special Agent Evan Manning.