Forgetting Jane (26 page)

Eli stepped into the sparse living room. An odor of mildew rot and pipe smoke filled his nose. The crime scene tape was still taped across the front door. The white chalk lines on the green corduroy lazy boy chair Henley shot himself in had faded. The blood splatters and brain matter still stained the grey wall behind it. The buckshot holes marked the drywall where he blew out the back of his head.

An old cabinet style television set sat adjacent to the chair. The man didn’t like change.

Wired bunny-eared antennae sat on top of a TV tray next to the chair. No photos of family or artwork adorned the walls.

There were two small bookcases that anchored each side of the small room. They were filled with books about police procedures and crime scene investigations from various states.
But where’s the hunting magazines?
He expected a pile of them, just like at the station. Maybe he had them somewhere else.

Eli headed down into the basement. Everybody stored crap down there. But all he found was a furnace and hot water tank, and nothing else. Not even a box. The entire lower level looked like it was wiped clean. One could eat off the cement floor. It was too sterile—too neat for his liking. He couldn’t remember exactly what the place looked like the day Henley killed himself. But he didn’t remember it being quite like this.

He headed back upstairs and continued up to the second floor. Each step creaked with his weight. As he reached the top of the landing, he saw the farthest room door open on its own. It made no sound, but he knew something, or someone was telling him to check there.

After he unsnapped his gun for precaution, Eli proceeded down the hall. He checked each room along the way, which were all empty. When he reached the doorway at the end of the hall, he realized it was the room with the open curtains.

Eli stuck his head in and quickly looked around. Clean and sparse. Go figure.

There was a full size bed that was made up in a tight orderly fashion that any soldier would be proud of and a single tall dresser. And clean white walls. That was it.

He opened every drawer and found only clothes, in neat and tidy order. Eli went as far as checking for false bottoms, but there was nothing.

Only one place left to check. The closet. As he slowly opened the slim door, something inside shifted and caught him off guard. He jacked his gun from his holster and aimed, whipped the door wide open and jumped back. His heart pounded against his ribcage. Whatever moved, it scared the hell out of him.

As he took a cautious step forward, nothing but clothes stood out to him.

“Shake it off.” Eli put his gun back into his holster and closed the door. As he turned his back, the door was flung open and the small doorknob imbedded into the drywall.

In a flash, Eli had his gun back in his hand aimed right at the closet. “What the…”

Silence once again filled the space. Eli listened, hoping to hear something. A muted clank reverberated from the closet, then something metal hit the floor.

There were metal hangers, but they didn’t move and weren’t heavy enough to create the sound he heard.

He took a watchful step toward the closet but kept his gun pointed and ready. Eli reached up and pulled on the white cotton string that connected to the ringed florescent light above the small recess. It blinked on.

Eli split the clothed hangers in half. He checked the floor and found nothing. He put his gun away and eased his breathing. Shaking his head, he called himself an idiot. There was nothing there.

As he clicked the light off, he heard the faint sound of a woman’s cry. Frozen in place, Eli leaned into the closet and listened. The crying came from behind the wall.

Eli gulped down his dread and proceeded to yank the clothes out of the space. Henley had been dead for nearly six months—no one should be in the house.

After pulling every single thing out, Eli noticed a tiny latch to the very right on the wall. He slid the bolt and the door slowly swung open. The woman’s whimper stopped instantly.

The heavy stench coming from the dark room made him gag. It smelled of death and decay. Flies flew out of the doorway, which Eli swatted out of his face.

Fragmented rays of light filtered through the roof but it wasn’t enough for Eli to see clearly. His gut told him to call for back up and wait. But damn, what if someone was alive? No. Not with that noxious smell.

He drew his flashlight but for some reason it wasn’t working. He slipped it back into his belt.

There had to be a light switch somewhere. Eli reached inside the doorway and felt around the frame until his fingers brushed across the light switch.

With a flip of the switch, one bulb light turned on. It hung in the center of the attic room, barely illuminated a foot-wide area.

The stench was too much for Eli to bear. He looked around the room for something to cover his face with. He grabbed one of Henley’s shirts and covered his mouth and nose and tied it to the back of his head. Once secured, and his gun ready, he stepped inside the dark space.

The smell hit him harder as he got closer to the middle. Eli ignored his stomach’s protest and continued to look around. Even his eyes were watering from the smell. As he reached the single bulb, his flashlight turned on.

Eli pulled it out and directed the strong beam around him. There was a makeshift bed at the far wall with chains strapped around the four posts. The small links had leather-spiked straps attached to them. A neck manacle and ball gag were left on the pillow. His chest began to ache and the pressure in his head began to strain with each step he took closer to the torture device.

In the far left corner were three tall narrow shelving units filled with items. Clothes and shoes, purses and wallets, and even jewelry were situated neatly in rows. Eli picked up a wallet and opened it. He was drawn to it because of the lack of dust on it, compared to the rest of the items on the shelves.

Jolie Lynn Bird
.
Damn
. This wallet belonged to the girl who went missing in Waldon County six months ago or so. He began looking through the other wallets. Different states, different counties—all women, young and most likely missing.

Eli couldn’t believe what he was looking at. He had known the man for a few years, but he never imagined Henley was a very sick and twisted pervert.

He turned his light beam to the chains that hung from the ceiling. Hooks of various sizes dangled at the end of them. It made Eli ill when he noticed there was dried blood on the tips.

A small table to the right of the bed had various utensils that had been used for cutting and slicing. There was a vaginal spreader—what a gynecologist would use, and a long corkscrewed nail. He didn’t want to know what Henley did with that.

There were shriveled up pieces of skin on the small platter and what looked like dried pebbles sat in a small bowl. With another gag, Eli could only imagine those were nipples.

Vomit rose quickly. Eli’s stomach protested. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. He bowed over and threw up. As he wiped away the remnant of the bile off his mouth, he noticed a medium-size cage in the far right hand corner of the room.

It was big enough to hold a large dog. He stepped closer and noticed something crammed in the corner of the cage. The closer he got, the sicker he felt. Tears streamed down. He wiped the wetness with his sleeve.

The fly activity intensified as he neared it. The flashlight beam fixed on a blackened pile.

The form came into focus as Eli got closer. The second he realized what it was… “What the fuck,” he whispered, and shot out of the room before the vomit rose up again.

Eli ran into the adjacent bathroom and threw up in the sink. He cleared the acrid taste from the back of his throat with water and spat it out.

“Sick bastard.” He pounded the sink with his palm. Eli knew what—or who was in the cage. Jolie Lynn Bird. That was no way for anyone to die. She was curled up naked, like a caged animal. From the look of the decay, she had been dead a while. As sick as it sounded, why didn’t Henley dispose of the body before he killed himself?

And why eat the bullet? Eli didn’t get it. The man had it good. There was no reason why he would kill himself. Unless…he
didn’t
kill himself.             

As Eli made his way outside, Jane filled his mind and took away the image of the dead woman. He envisioned her curled up in his bed with a smile that melted his heart. Eli desperately wanted to be there, holding her tight, making love to her for one last time before State took her away.

But right now, he had to worry about the body inside and the other killer. Everything Henley hid confirmed that he was one of two killers. But who was the other?

He cleared his throat with a loud cough and was about to dial the State headquarters when his cell phone rang.

“Hey, where are you at?” Tom answered.

“I’m heading home for a second. What’s up?”

“State called. They will be here first thing in the morning.”

Eli blew out a breath. “Fine.”

“Eli, what is going on?” Tom asked. “You sound out of breath.”

“Nothing. But I’ll explain later. Right now, I have to get home.” Eli hung up.

Eli’s temples pounded, his throat ached and his nose still burned from the acrid odor.

One more day to keep what he found in Henley’s home quiet. State would take over and Jane would be safe.

J
ane circled around the living room, her pacing anxious. She tried to help Magda earlier in the basement, but she was too riled up to sort out boxes of clothes.

She wished Eli would get home and talk to her. Then she could yell at him and she’d feel better.

Her jaw hurt from grinding her teeth together. She wanted to throw something…at his head. Why didn’t he tell her about the new victim? Wasn’t she privy to that information? With the State police stepping in, Jane probably wouldn’t see him again. She feared that the most.

It wasn’t doing her any good moping. She headed back downstairs to help. It was the only thing she could do without going stir crazy.

Jane stood at the edge of the basement doorway and stopped. She grabbed onto the door trim to steady herself from the sudden dizziness.

She stumbled back against the small round table, knocking a tiny ballerina figurine and a picture frame of Elias and his mother onto the floor.

Jane twisted around, her back to the wall and slipped down to the floor.

Her body became heavy, almost dead weight. She tried to move but her limbs weren’t responding. Jane lay there, still, eyes closed trying to ward off the helpless feeling. Calling for Magda was worthless; her mouth was unresponsive.

Someone yanked at her hair. The pain in her body was unbearable. Jane was being pulled down the stairs. Her back tightened with every sharp gouge of the wooden steps. She tried to scream but her tongue had turned fat and numb.

Jane blinked to clear the blurry haze that coated her eyes. The day was gone. It turned dark and the wet stench of something hit her nose hard. She knew it was the smell of death.

“Open your eyes.” Jane could hear Magda’s voice, but she felt stuck.

Jane pushed away the evil tendrils that seemed to choke her. The darkness infiltrated—it swallowed her up. A sound of a woman crying penetrated her ears. It was familiar and scary.

“Jane!” Pain sliced across her cheek. Jane’s heavy arms lightened and the cold that webbed her skin dissipated. Her eyes cleared and saw Magda hovering above her.

Her deeply creased brow and downturned mouth made the nurse look angry.

“Can you hear me?” Magda asked as she touched Jane’s forehead.

Jane wished Eli was there to hold her. Tears wouldn’t stop falling. She attempted to get up but her legs lost their balance and she landed against the wall, and slid back down. Her throat was scratchy—parched, which made her cough.

“I remember something,” Jane said, wiping away her wetness. “I remember.”

“Hold on. Let’s get you on the couch.” Magda tried to lift her up but struggled. “Jane, you have to help me. Get up.”

As Magda leaned down, Jane pushed against the wall for stability. She was able to get on her feet and walked to the couch.

“Magda, I think I remember what happened to me.” Jane made it to the sofa.

“Did you see the person’s face?” Magda asked as she covered her with the blanket.

Jane shook her head. “I remember it being very dark. It was hard to see anything. The smell was so putrid I couldn’t breathe it in. Magda, I tried to escape but he caught me, and that was when he did this to me.” Jane touched the back of her head. She ran her fingers along the ridge of her scar. “The rest was bits and pieces.”

“I’m calling Elias. He needs to know this.”

“Don’t call him. He’s not in charge anymore, remember?” Jane spat out, but was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. I know we need to tell him but there is something I need to do first.” Jane wiped away her tears with the tissue Magda gave her and continued. “I need your help, Magda.”

“What’s more important than your memory?”

“The girl.”

The old woman shook her head no. “Jane, I know you want to help her move on but right now you have to help yourself. You have a killer after you.”

“I am helping myself. I know she’s the key or a connection to my case. We need to know who she is,” Jane said with earnest. “She won’t let me rest or move on until I find out who she is and what happened to her.”

“We don’t know anything about her—and why didn’t you ask me about her earlier?”

“I guess…I had more time. It doesn’t matter now. The girl’s first name is—was Jane. I know she was a local, or I think she was.” Jane sat up to the edge of the couch and pleaded with her. “Can we at least check out old newspaper articles at the library or even call a local who might have a good memory of those events?”

Magda sat down next to her. “I don’t know about this, Jane.”

“Please, Magda?”

Magda’s brows knit together. Jane bit at her lower lip and smiled when the nurse nodded slowly yes.

“Okay. Now I need coffee. Want some?” As Jane got up, she became lightheaded and sat back down.

“You sit. I’ll make the coffee.” Right after Magda got it brewing, she went straight to the phone.

“You’re not calling Eli, are you?” Jane called out from the living room.

“No. But you gave me an idea on who to call,” she said while she dialed a number.

Jane stood up, took a solid breath and made her way next to Magda.

“Hi Francine. This is Magda Burstone. Yes, it has been a long time. …Yes, that sounds fine. … How about lunch next Tuesday? …Great. … Francine, you have been living around these parts for a long time. … Seventy years? …Good. …Would you happen to remember a girl gone missing around these parts. … Hmm, about thirty or more years ago?”

Jane was chewing on her bottom lip. The long pause was killing her. She wanted Magda to get off the phone and tell her what this Francine was telling her.

“Oh, thank you, Francine. Call me on my cell phone if you get anything.” Magda hung up and looked back at Jane with a small smile. “She might have something, but she isn’t sure. She’ll give us a call back.”

“Who’s Francine?”

“Francine has worked at the Beaver Creek library for about fifty-five years now. If anyone knows who or what went missing in this area, she would.”

“Did she recall anything when you asked her?”

“She said she remembers there was a case where an out of town family came to visit relatives for the summer and their daughter went missing. She couldn’t recall the name, but several county sheriffs and police officers from nearby towns came and helped. They formed search parties, though they never found her.”

“Do you think it might be the same girl?” Jane’s stomach twisted and her temples pinched in pain.             

“I don’t know. But right now, you need your rest. When the State police come, you will be moved to a different location and I…”

Jane sobered. “I don’t want to leave, Magda.”

“Honey, I know it will be for the best. They can protect you better than Elias can. Right now, let’s worry about having some rest.”

To be reminded that she might not able to see Elias for a long while made her want to cry. Maybe it was better off that their short lived love affair stopped when it did. It probably saved her any heartache in the future. They were both broken, and maybe… they weren’t meant to be together.

“I’m fine. My head hurts. I’ll take a couple of Tylenols and I’ll be good.” Jane filled her cup.

“If the pain is that bad, I have those Demerol pills Dr. Rollins prescribed. Why not take half, it will help ease the ache.”

Jane shook her head. “They make me have nightmares. I won’t take them again.”

“Okay. Maybe you should—” Magda’s cell phone rang. She rushed over and answered. “It’s Francine.”

After a brief exchange of words, Magda stayed quiet a good portion of the time, listening while she paced the kitchen. She wasn’t getting off the phone fast enough for Jane.

It was a good ten minutes’ wait, during which time Jane wanted to pull out her hair. Instead, she sat down at the table and focused on her empty coffee cup.

Once Magda said her goodbyes, Jane rushed to her side like an impatient child.

“Francine found a newspaper article that showed a picture of a girl in a yellow sun dress. It was the same dress she went missing in that day. Her name was Jane Marie Proster and she was thirteen and a half years old. She and her family came up from Chicago to visit relatives for the week. She went missing a few days after they arrived. From what Francine says, they never found her body.” Magda took another sip. “Is it her?”

“I’m almost positive. Did she say how she’d gone missing?”

“She went hiking with her cousin on their back property. The boy thought she was right behind him and by the time he realized she wasn’t there, he panicked and ran back to the family.” Magda wrapped both hands around her cup. “That’s odd. If you and your cousin went on a hike, wouldn’t you talk to each other the whole time?”

Jane had to agree with her. “Who’s her cousin?”

“Francine only said his first name, Thomas.”

“Can we get a copy of that article and possibly a picture?” Jane asked while she refilled her cup.

“Francine is doing that now. But you will need to calm down. You’re all flushed. I don’t want you to pass out on me. I’ll call Elias and have him pick it up.”

“No. I’ll tell him,” she countered. “He’s going to be mad but I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?” Magda asked.

Jane turned and watched Elias walk in. Her stomach dropped when she saw the deep frown and scolding eyes across his face.

“What would I get mad about?” he asked with his arms folded across his chest.

Jane sat down and focused on the cup in her hand. “Nothing.” Staring into his eyes would only make Jane lose her nerve and tell him the truth.

His lips thinned. “We need to talk,” he insisted as he took the chair.

“Just say it.” Jane gripped the cup tighter.              

“Got a call from State. They will be here tomorrow.”

“All right. Jane will be ready as soon as they arrive,” Magda said. “What else is there?”

Eli paused. “And…I believe there were two killers involved.”

“What do you mean
‘were two?’” Jane’s voice strained.              

“I found further evidence that links old cases to yours.”

“You know who they are, or were?” Magda asked. Jane reached out and touched the old woman’s wringing hands.

“I know Henley’s death wasn’t an accident,” he said with conviction.

“How? Elias, I’m confused. What does Henley have to do with Jane’s case?” Magda’s voice broke up.

“Who’s Henley?” Jane swallowed hard. No one answered her. She wanted to fall apart right there as she listened to them talk about the case as though she wasn’t there. She yearned for Elias to hold her. Instead, she got up from her seat and paced the kitchen.

“This might be hard to believe, but I found proof that Henley was one of the killers.”

“What kind of proof?” Magda shook her head. “No way. He was a good man.”

“Who’s Henley?” Jane shouted. Both looked at her wide-eyed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“He was the old chief of police,” Elias explained.             

“So he killed all those women?” Jane asked.

“Most of them.” Eli paused for a moment. “I went to Henley’s house and found a section of the attic where he had been torturing women. I found a decaying body inside it. I think it’s the girl that went missing six months ago from Waldon. He must have put her there right before he was murdered.”

Jane pressed her hands to her mouth and tried to control the running tears. The pain wrenched at her chest and tightened with every breath. The thought of some poor woman wasting away without anyone to help her made her sick.

An image formed in her head of a dead mutilated woman locked in a cage. Jane couldn’t handle listening any longer. She needed air to clear her pain away. “I can’t do this anymore.” Jane raced out of the house.

Eli reached out and grabbed her, but she evaded his arms. “Jane, stop.”

She wouldn’t listen—wouldn’t listen to his words.

The cold wind gave her an icy slap, which brought back some of her senses. It felt good for a change to run, to move, to be free from that house.

As Jane rounded the bend toward the front part of the house, Tom pulled up, almost hitting her. Luckily, she saw the vehicle and tried to move out of the way. The edge of the squad car grazed the back of her leg, and made her tumble down to the gravel.

“Jane,” Eli shouted. He ran over to her and checked her legs.

“Holy crap. Eli, did I hit her?” Tom popped out of the squad.

“I’m okay, but my leg is scraped up.” Jane flinched when Eli ran his hand over her skin.

Jane looked up and locked eyes on the deputy. For a split second, the world shifted and the day became night. The howl of the wind off the lake seemed more like screeches of crying women warning her to run.

The profound pain coursed through her body. Her head felt spliced in two. Her skin was split open as if it scraped against the cold hard soil like jagged fingernails.