Duncan's Diary (15 page)

Sudhir spent the next morning pulling his facts together from the three different cases. He consolidated the four murders, laying out all his details, and he had to admit even to himself that his theory was a little farfetched. The pieces just did not easily link one to another. There were too many holes in the bridges he was attempting to build, and he really only had his gut instinct telling him that somehow, someway this was the same man performing these different acts.

After a few hours, he decided to go to his captain and lay everything on the table and get his advice. Who knows, maybe there was something he was missing in the pile of paperwork.

Sudhir’s captain was a small balding man in his mid-50’s and was about four years away from retirement. He had seen a wide spectrum of events in his 26 years on the force, and his main goal at this stage was to make it to 30, retire, and spend his afternoons fishing up in the mountains. He did very little to stir the waters and went by the book on most all decisions.

Sudhir got 10 minutes with him as he was heading out to see the local district attorney on an issue with another detective, hoping to clear the air and stop a dilemma before it went any further. Politics plays a role in all occupations and all companies in the world as everyone is concerned with themselves, first and foremost. Sudhir presented his hypothesis. He was very open in his description and agreeably stated that the odds were against him, but he also could not contain the continuing feeling that somehow these were all linked together. The Volvo was really the only key, which he admitted was flimsy.

Sudhir had not spent much time with his captain. He respected him, but in all honesty Sudhir had not focused that much effort in his job. This was the first time that he was motivated, driven to a resolution. His captain spent more time discussing Sudhir than he did the case. He told Sudhir how impressed he was with his dedication and how he felt Sudhir might have the makings of a good detective.

He also admitted that this was a surprise to him and everyone else. He, personally, could not remember how many cases had been solved by instinct and intuition. Sometimes filling in the blank spaces of a case with what you felt ended up being the only way to bridge the gap and move forward. In the end, facts were needed; and you could not finalize a solution until your details added up, but getting there took more than just adding one plus one to get two.

He gave his permission to talk to the FBI and concurred with Sudhir that having the profiling skills involved at this stage might be the right thing to do. He also gave Sudhir a piece of advice as he was stepping out the door on his way to his next appointment. He stated it was the small things that solved cases – watch for the little intricacies that could be overlooked or passed over. It might even be something that caught Sudhir’s eye, but he was not giving it his full attention. The details are what catch a killer. Everyone is good at covering their tracks on the big issues, but nobody can think through all of the minutiae. Look at the mundane trivial pebbles, and that is where you will find the killer.

Sudhir made his way back to his desk and called his friend Jason at the FBI. He caught him on a break and told him his story. Jason was a local. He was in the process of going through a divorce, had two kids, and his soon-to-be ex-wife was a very good-looking woman. They were currently working through custodial issues and living arrangements, as his parents kept their house in a trust. It was proving difficult to figure out how to make everything work for everyone.

Jason was married to his job. He inhaled details of a case into his very being from the beginning to the last. The smallest piece of evidence was catalogued until it reached the final resolution. In the end, this had done in his marriage to Sherene. He just did not have the time or the energy to have two marriages in his life; and try as he might, he was incapable of giving up on bringing killers to justice.

Jason had a knack for piecing seemingly unrelated events into a bigger picture. He was good at solving puzzles that nobody believed until, in the end, he always proved them true. He had started out in the Bay Area, but was now a part of the national profiling team; and if there were ever a highly publicized investigation, he was involved at some level.

Jason agreed to meet Sudhir that afternoon for a drink and asked him to bring the details with him. He didn’t feel that he could get the FBI directly involved, but he personally owed Sudhir and would do whatever he could to help him out.

His debt to Sudhir had built like wooden blocks over the last few years. They didn’t have much of a personal friendship, but Sudhir had allowed Jason the use of his couch on a few occasions when he had no business driving. Jason still loved his wife, and the separation was taking its toll on his mental stability. Jason was always fine when he was in the throngs of an investigation and his attention was completely focused on connecting the beams of the structure he was forming in his mind. His downfall came on the few occasions when there was a lull in activity, and he realized how alone he was in the world.

Sudhir had started inviting him over to his house for a cookout or to watch a football game. But, as with Jason’s soon-to-be former wife, Sudhir soon found out Jason was just not around most of the time. Oddly, Jason was coming to rely on Sudhir as a friend; and even though they only saw each other sporadically, the feeling was mutual.

They agreed to meet each other at Valemar Station in Pacifica, and Sudhir planned on getting there a little early to scope out a table and organize his papers in a form that might make sense. He made the call to Janine, telling her that he would be late; and as he expected, he received another verbal assault. At one point he was holding the phone three feet from his ear as he patiently listened to the berating he was forced to endure from his loving wife. This provided a round of humor and applause from the other detectives as soon as he returned the phone to its appropriate cradle. This, he was sure, would be a station joke for several years to come.

Sudhir arrived at the designated meeting spot around 5:30 p.m. He was planning on meeting Jason at 6 p.m. He pulled off Route 1 and pulled into the paved parking lot. He admired the dilapidated structure of the local bar. Valemar Station had not reached the level of dive bar as of yet. It was a local hangout, and you tended to get to know the bartenders and waitresses rather quickly if you frequented the establishment at all. It was warm and inviting, and the food was decent enough. The atmosphere was really the key, and it kept the patrons content and left you with a feeling of home. Sudhir waved to Mike the bartender as he entered and spread out his paperwork on the table in front of him.

Jane, a middle-aged woman with white hair and a rotund belly, brought him a Stella without Sudhir asking and said hello. Everyone in the bar was friendly. It reminded Sudhir of
Cheers,
the old TV show from the ’80’s, and he reveled in everyone knowing his name. He chugged down his beer rather quickly and, again, without asking saw a few minutes later that it had miraculously been refilled.

Sudhir made the effort to pore over the paperwork one last time in the hopes that a different setting or different lighting might give him a new perspective. Unfortunately, this was not the case. He remembered the often-quoted rule: the same actions and the same process does not lead to new results; and when we fall into that circular trap, we find ourselves in a loop of craziness.

He was happy when Jason finally arrived—about 15 minutes late. He was now already on his third beer and wanted to spend time reviewing the details before he found himself too caught up in the beverage portion of the evening. Jason greeted his friend with a hello, ordered his vodka and cranberry (smiling from the harassment he received from Sudhir and everyone in the bar over his feminine order), and got to work.

Jason liked the Volvo link in the cases; and although it was unusual, it was not unheard of for a killer to jump around in his activities in the beginning of a new life cycle. Sudhir found it odd that Jason referred to the serial killers having a life cycle. As with all forms of life, Jason believed that the serial killer was born at some stage when something clicked or snapped and pushed the individual into a new identity. He felt that in the beginning, as with all infants, a newborn killer might have to take time in finding his way and preferences. This was not always the case. There were several killers that immediately fell into their preferred routines, but he had seen this same metaphorical cycle before.

He agreed with Sudhir that for now the vehicle was the best possible connection.  Sudhir should spend as much time as possible pursuing any activities that involved a car of this type. Jason also said he would scan the FBI database and see if anything popped up. He didn’t think it would. In his opinion, this was an infant killer; and if the two of them were correct, he was going to be difficult to catch. Jason still did not feel that it was enough to open a FBI file, but if anything else occurred he might push to have that changed.

They completed their work portion of the evening and moved on to personal issues. Sudhir was mildly disappointed in not learning anything he didn’t already know, but felt comfort in that he was going down an agreed-upon path. The conversation pushed around to Sherene and how she was doing. Jason saw her sporadically. She had retained custody of the kids, but he had open visitation rights. With his schedule, he had no ability to do anything routine from one week to the next.

They drank several beers and around 9 p.m. decided to call it a night. They both needed to get home and sleep it off. Sudhir looked forward to starting back into his list of registered Volvo owners first thing tomorrow morning. Jason had agreed to run the entire list through the FBI reference checks, as well, and see if that gave any leads. He did not hold out much hope.

He felt strongly that they were witnessing the birth of a serial killer and only hoped that before he matured, they were able to apprehend him. Killers only got more deadly as they gained confidence; and, in most cases, they became increasingly more difficult to catch the longer they were on the loose.

It was fun to hear Hannah describe the beginning of her evening and the preparation that occurred at her apartment. Hannah was clearly worried about Laura and how excited she was about our going out on our first date. It was cute how Hannah had talked about Laura helping her pick out clothes and doing her hair. Daughters and mothers can have such a wonderful relationship.

I was described as somewhat fashionable, so Laura really wanted Hannah to steer clear of her normal everyday attire that she adorned for several of her other dates. She needed something black – that had been Laura’s main criteria. Hannah had settled on a nice below-the-knee silk skirt and a loose blouse. She went with some mid-sized heels, black as well, and topped it off with a silk scarf to bring the two together. It was easy for me to admit to liking it, as Hannah looked fantastic.

Hannah had enjoyed the attention. It had been a long time since Laura was into helping her prepare for a date, and even Stephanie had joined in on the festivities. They had both helped with her makeup. Hannah did not wear a lot, but at her age was in need of some touchups here and there.

She smiled, having liked the outfit they had decided on, and she laughingly talked about putting the stacks of rejected clothes back in their proper place to avoid a mess in the morning. She was unsure how long our date would last so she had made the kids a pizza and went through the list of instructions, as was her habit every time she ventured out for an evening.

The kids had rhythmically mimicked her as they recited the instructions with her. All three had laughed at the fact that she felt she needed to repeat them every single time they were left alone. The most important rule was that they never answered the door. What if it were the police? “Then, we call you, but we never answer the door. We don’t open it; we don’t go to it; we don’t say hi to anyone; we don’t even look at the door for fear it might burn us,” Stephanie giggled.

Hannah admitted to me she was paranoid, but she also knew that her two girls were the only two people she held dear in the world. If anything ever happened to them, she had no idea how she would ever make it through the experience. She had made her exit with a couple of kisses and a nice big hug from Laura for good luck. Laura’s overly excited anticipation had actually made even Hannah a little nervous.

She had made the short five-minute drive to the restaurant, which was located on Burlingame Avenue. It was a quick jump to get there, and she was glad that we had agreed upon a place that was so close. She really didn’t like being out late at night during the week. On the weekend she felt more comfortable, but for some reason she had never shaken the school time rule of staying put Sunday through Friday and letting loose Friday and Saturday night.

The restaurant was plush, catering to upscale patrons. The food, unfortunately, was just average and for the amount of money, you would expect something more extravagant. It was well-frequented on most nights by a large amount of patrons, and its reputation of being the place to be allowed it to sway from quality.

Hannah had arrived at the side door and walked up the ramp spotting me at the bar, sitting on a stool talking to the local bartender. I was having a brownish-colored drink in a small glass with a few ice cubes. She had guessed was scotch, but she was not a big drinker and really did not know her liquor too well. She walked in my direction; and as I sat there, I found myself staring directly at her. She was still a beautiful woman, and you could tell that she took pride in presenting herself at her best.

I shook off my hesitation, got up from the stool, and met her halfway. After the initial greetings, I spoke to Adrianna, a waitress that I knew, and she showed the two of us to a table. The hostess said hi on our way over, and Hannah asked me if I frequented here that often.

I did, but just within the last few weeks. I seemed to make a lasting impression rather quickly. Everyone in the restaurant knew who I was. The conversation for the most part centered on Hannah for the bulk of the evening, as I continued to inquire about her goals, her background, her hometown, her job, her hobbies, and her girls. I was genuinely interested in her, and she found herself getting lost in her historic past. She dug up old memories that she had not thought about in a long while.

She was born in Alabama, her parents were both deceased, and she had no close living relatives. She briefly touched on her tumultuous relationship, and the byproducts of Laura and Stephanie. She tried to steer the conversation away from her ex-husband and the bad memories dredged up from that dark period. I never mentioned the fact that I knew her background or that Sarah had released so much personal information. I felt that it was better left unsaid. She had never been skiing, but always wanted to go. She loved being outdoors and liked hiking.

Her favorite activity was to go for long walks. She liked company; but if nobody were available, she grabbed her Walkman and headed down to the path by the bay. She would stroll along, listening to REO Speedwagon and Sting and any other band from the ’80’s that she could drum up. She admittedly liked that period, even though she was frequently told it was not the best age for music.

She found herself very relaxed talking to me and opened up more than she had to anyone in a long time. She shared about her friendship with Sarah; and although she had never spoken out loud about the incident, she found herself telling me about the night that Hank came on to her. It had filled her with disgust and guilt about who he was and what she had allowed to happen. Sharing did seem to lift a weight from her shoulders, but she had not anticipated discussing the situation with anyone, let alone somebody on a first date.

Hannah had seemed a little off-guard, letting stories fly; and before she realized it, the night was gone and it was time to part ways. Once outside, she discovered that I had walked to the restaurant, so she offered to give me a ride back home. The night seemed perfect, and Hannah now had butterflies in her stomach, hoping that I felt the same. On the quick trip home, I asked to keep all conversations about tonight limited where Laura was concerned. I was genuinely worried about hurting my daughter’s feelings, and Hannah assured me that it would be fine. I made quite an impression on her darling daughter, but she would give no details and keep any future outings to herself.

She let me know that she was interested in seeing me again. We quickly arrived at my house. After pulling up in the driveway, she placed the car in park. I gently reached over and gave her a quick kiss on the lips as I said good-bye. She seemed like a schoolgirl again. Her knees looked weak, and she seemed to have butterflies flittering in her stomach, threatening to break free and explode out to the slightly chilled, starry sky.

She watched me as I pulled my key out of my pants pocket and opened the door of my pinkish colored house. I saw her slowly pull away once the door had been closed. I was sure that she was excited about the date and felt comfortable with her not telling Laura. I had also assumed that she would share the experience rather quickly with her friend Sarah.

I later found out she had called Sarah that night and for 20 minutes sat in the car outside of her apartment describing her evening. She had been openly elated at the prospects of a future date and hopefully more. Sarah had listened patiently and joined in with her excitement. Hannah was truly lucky to have her as a friend. At some point, she was going to have to be honest with Sarah--let her know what a snake her husband was and open up to her about the things that he had done.

Laura had been disappointed, but not completely diluted in her excitement when she was not given any details. Hannah sat awake and dreamed about possibilities and our future. It is interesting how women get so excited about the prospect of happiness—they sometimes forget to enjoy the here today. That sounds sexist, as men are most likely the same.