And Then There Was One (36 page)

As they all chatted and commiserated and went about reassuring each other, Scott responded to a knock on the door. Agent Camry asked to speak with him and Katie. “Nothing about Alex,” she forewarned in a voice loud enough for all to hear.

“Agent Streeter thought you may want to know this,” Camry said. “Roberta Kendrick, Olivia Cutty’s sister, was found dead today, an apparent heroin overdose. She left a note, said she couldn’t cope with the responsibility for Jake and Aiden. She hoped that someone would take care of them. She said that they’d be better off without her.”

“Those poor kids,” Katie felt profound sadness, mixed with guilt. “They have no one. I tried to protect them, but now —”

“They got a raw deal,” Scott said, “but Katie, none of this was your fault.”

“I’m the one who insisted that it was Cutty who took Sammie and Alex. How wrong I was.”

“But, to grow up in the custody of a man who murdered their mother and who sexually molested them? Those kids never did have a chance.”

“Where are the boys now?” Katie asked.

“Hillsbourgh Protective Services. Adam Kaninsky offered to take them, but I doubt that the courts will let that happen.”

Before they went back to rejoin the family, Scott pulled Katie aside. “Babe, we have to stay focused. For us and for all three girls. We can’t worry about anybody else.”

Katie nodded, pressing her body against his. “Scott, I love you,” she said.

Search for Alex Monroe Moves to Northern Michigan.
— Evening News, Saturday, June 20

The crime scene investigators who’d scoured the Elk Lake cabin briefed Streeter as he prepared to board the FBI helicopter that would take him back to Detroit. Indeed, the fingerprints there matched those found in the Holly house: Alex Monroe, Margaret Spansky, and Samuel Spansky. An hour earlier Streeter took a call from the director. Based on the ransom demand with Alex’s voice verified, assignment for the Monroe rescue command was shifting to the Miami field office. Streeter would remain in charge of Michigan operations, but would take orders from Miami. The powers that be were convinced that the kidnappers would show up to collect the money in South Florida and that they’d keep Alex alive for demonstration purposes.

He’d just climbed into the bureau aircraft when the pilot announced, “A call for you sir. We’ll hold takeoff so you have better audio.”

“Agent Streeter,” he said, flipping to the communication channel.

The Charlevoix, Michigan, chief of police identified himself then went on to report an incident. He apologized for bothering him in the middle of such a high profile case, but —

“Go on,” Streeter said.

“I’m sure that this is nothing, but with all the police chatter today about the hunt for the Monroe kid, I thought I’d let you know about a report we got late this afternoon. A concerned citizen came across an older model panel van parked along a remote stretch of lakeshore. He walks his dog on the same path when he gets home from work every night, and he thought it strange, particularly because it had no
plates, so he called it in. When we responded, we found the vehicle half hidden in heavy dune grass. It couldn’t have been there long, based on the condition of the grasses. No plate, but we did find the registration info underneath the passenger floor mat. Registration address was Elk Rapids. When I tracked down the owner, he said that it must have been taken from his cottage on Elk Lake. Owner hasn’t been in the area for three weeks so he doesn’t know how long it’s been missing.”

Streeter was not impressed with this missing van, but arranged for fingerprints to be compared to the Holly house and Elk Rapids cabin. But this information did give him an excuse, however flimsy, to keep his small team in northern Michigan. His gut told him that the Spansky couple had not ventured far with Alex. He’d postpone his trip back to Detroit until the Charlevoix police had completed the fingerprint analysis from the abandoned van. He told the pilots and instructed them to find a place in Traverse City for them and Streeter and two agents to stay the night. He’d inform the SAC in Detroit later.

Streeter then returned to the log cabin. A few guys from the SWAT team were hanging around, bitching about poor communication. If they’d been called out an hour sooner, they would have the kid, the bad guys would be locked up. Same old bitch session that followed every failed SWAT operation. Streeter and his two agents may be able to delay going back, but no way could he persuade the elite team leader to stay. As of now the SWAT effort would be focused on Miami, and the case would be directed from there. Streeter would go back to Detroit, having failed Alex.

At the height of the season, the FBI team of five was lucky to find three rooms at a motel on Grand Traverse Bay. They had no luggage, but they headed toward their rooms with laptops and communication equipment. They’d use Streeter’s room to set up and the four men would share the other two.

Michigan’s Upper Peninsula Temperatures Running Several Degrees Colder than Average this June.
— Michigan Weather, Sunday, June 21

Spanky was gone when Marge woke up. He’d told her that he had things to do and that he would return to get her and Jennifer. She had enough supplies to last a week and she was not supposed to leave the campsite, no matter what. She hadn’t slept well, yet she hadn’t heard Spanky leave. Twice during the night, she’d gotten up to pile more blankets on Jennifer. She’d always liked camping when she and Evan had taken Spanky before the twins were born, but now she felt exposed and abandoned. Where had Spanky gone and why had he left her and Jennifer here?

But the main reason she stayed awake most of the night was to figure out what to do about Spanky. Marge realized that she could not trust her own son. For years now, she’d known that he did bad things to little girls. She wasn’t sure of the word. Was it rape? Did they call it sodomy? Whatever, he collected their little panties in a chest. He even took them on the road for his runs. But with his own little sister? That was unnatural.

Marge lay on the blow-up mattress until Jennifer began to stir. She’d been thinking about work. What were the girls saying? Had the FBI or the cops questioned them? She imagined they had. If only she could go back to that easy, friendly, supportive life. But she couldn’t. Simple as that. She’d made her move. And she’d lost one twin. But she still had Jennifer.

“Mama, are you awake?” Jennifer said in a voice so sweet that Marge thought her heart would melt. So many years she’d waited for
this. This time she wouldn’t let Spanky ruin things for her. She’d tried her best with him, but Spanky had turned out to be a pervert. There, she had said it. Pervert was the right word for him.

Marge had to chose: Spanky or Jennifer. Jennifer was Evan’s child. Not an out-of-wedlock child like Spanky. The word bastard came to mind, a word her father had used when she first admitted she was pregnant, but a word that Marge had never said, even to herself, until last night when she was thinking things through. In contrast to Jennifer and her twin sister, Jessica, both legitimate children. And even if she didn’t have Jessica, Evan would want to take her and Jennifer back, she was sure of that. All she had to do was find him. She knew that he lived in Toronto.

“Yes, Jennie, I’m awake. Were you warm enough last night?” Marge had skimped on her own blankets to make sure Jennifer wouldn’t be cold.

“Yes, but why do we have to stay here? When it got a little bit light this morning you looked cold so I took a blanket over to you.” Marge looked around. Surely, she had. What a perfect child. Shy at first, but really opening up.

“Hungry?” Marge eased herself off the mattress and stood, stretching her arms in circles until she felt a stitch of arthritic pain in her neck.

“I guess so,” Jennifer said. “Want me to go look for some of those berries he told us about?”

“First let’s go pee,” Marge said. “For now we have to go in the woods, but maybe we can find a toilet. Campsites are supposed to have restrooms, and Spanky said that this is a state park.”

During the night Marge had finalized her plan. She would take Jennifer to Toronto to reunite with Evan, and they would resume their life together. No one would look for them there. Not even Spanky. In her purse she had $430, and they had plenty of food. She would pack as much as she could carry into a large black garbage bag, and then they’d start walking. She didn’t know which way to walk, but Marge figured it didn’t matter. She’d stick to the edge of the lake. People always camped on lakes. She’d tell them that — Well, she’d think up something depending on the circumstances. Like she lost her wallet and needed to get home to Toronto. At least she wouldn’t have to
worry about Jennifer kicking up a fuss. The child seemed quite content.

As Alex trudged alongside Maggie on the shore of the lake, she reminded herself to act nice but to stay alert. They hadn’t seen another person and she didn’t know what she’d do when they did, maybe yell, “Help me!” and run from Maggie to the person. As she practiced in her mind, she heard a dog bark. She stopped a step behind Maggie and turned around as a large dog ran to her side. Alex liked dogs, but her family had never had one because Sammie hated most animals. But this one seemed friendly with floppy ears and thick yellow fur. She didn’t know what kind of dog he was, but as she put out her hand to pet him, Maggie grabbed her other hand and jerked her forward so hard that Alex felt a jolt of pain in her shoulder. Before she spun around to face forward, she looked for the dog’s owner, but she saw no one. After that Maggie made her stay right next to her. When the dog scampered off, she asked Maggie whether she liked dogs.

“Yes, Jennie, I’ll get you one if you want one, but not today.”

For a while Alex wondered whether she should have made more of a fuss over the dog. Maybe its owner would have come after it, and she could have been rescued. But too late now, so she followed Maggie. What else could she do? No way was she going to run away into the scary woods, but the next time, if she saw anybody, she’d run to them and beg for help. She also reminded herself to drink plenty of water. Dad was always telling the team to stay hydrated. They didn’t have bottled water so she soon drained the cans of lemonade and Sprite.

They kept going after stopping to sit on a log and eat a salami sandwich and an oatmeal cookie. When she asked Maggie about running out of water, Maggie just laughed and pointed at the lake.

“That’s salt water in the ocean,” Alex said, twitching her nose in distaste.

“No, Jennie, not an ocean, a lake. Lake Michigan or Lake Superior, I’m not sure. One of the Great Lakes. Didn’t you learn about them in school?”

School seemed such a distant life to Alex that she simply shook her head, hoping Maggie was right about the water.

Leaving the boat in the same secluded spot as yesterday, Spanky headed for the tent. He was disgusted with himself. He had forgotten to get Precious to tape the message that it was
Wednesday
and
please rescue me, Daddy
. Now he had to recalculate his timing and perhaps move the ransom pick-up to Thursday. No problem there, he could use some slack, and he’d be able to get another night’s sleep on the road.

At first he thought they were both asleep. All was quiet. Ma liked to sleep late on her days off, that’s why he hadn’t awakened her when he had left an hour and a half ago. But the campsite was empty. Okay, he told himself. Hadn’t he suggested that they pick berries? All kids love picking berries. He knew he had. A glance about confirmed that nothing looked disturbed. No choice now except to wait for them. While he waited, he’d get some sleep.

Spanky awoke to the bark of a dog. He had no idea how long he’d slept. Looking around he did not see Ma or Precious. They must still be out there. He rose groggily from the floor to peer out the tiny flap window. He saw a yellow dog scamper along the path in the woods that led to the cove where he’d stashed the Grady White.

“Shit,” he mumbled. Spanky felt the heft of the Taurus .44 Magnum revolver in the wide pocket of his cargo pants. Where there was a dog, there’d be a human. He checked his watch. Noon. He needed to find Ma and Precious, get the kid to tape that statement, and get the hell out of there.

Spending fifteen minutes circling the campsite, Spanky found no trace of either Ma or Precious. He went back in the tent, hunger gnawing at his stomach. He’d only taken a ham sandwich and a Snickers bar, but he’d left them enough to eat for a week. He poked around in all the bags. He found cans of sodas, apples and bananas, loaves of bread, peanut butter, but where were the energy bars?

Happy Father’s Day to All You Dads Out There.
— Sunday Radio, June 21

Streeter had arranged to meet his team of four for breakfast at eight a.m. As he exited the elevator his face registered surprise and suspicion as a paunchy man in a uniform approached. Streeter figured the guy must have been waiting for them in the lobby.

“You Agent Streeter? FBI?” the man asked.

Streeter planned to come off as Mr. Nice Guy, not The Jerk as most agents presented themselves.