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  Before leaving to get the coffee, Kim, Derek and I spent a few minutes looking over the site plans for the facility. There were buildings located all over the grounds. Some were interconnected, while others were single structures standing alone on various parts of the property. As we reviewed the plans, I saw two buildings in a remote, back corner of the property with one access road coming in off a secondary town road. Looking at the plans more closely, I read that those buildings were used for storage and maintenance equipment. I told Kim and Derek to make sure these smaller buildings were searched.

  Derek and Kim said that they would. They pointed to a row of garages and sheds by the dormitory, and said that is where they would be searching when I returned with their java.

  63

  “Kosciak was the only one Christopher didn’t pay back before he got his ass killed,” Keith was thinking as he sat watching the videos of the girls he and Christopher murdered over the years. Next to him, on a wall shelf, sat the glass jars with all of the children they had adopted. Until a week ago, he and Christopher were pretty much free to come and go as they pleased. Abducting young girls at their leisure, according to their schedule, no one ever questioned or glanced in their direction. Christopher was the one out in public sight every day while Keith stayed hidden in the shadows. The system worked flawlessly until the bodies were discovered out at the pond. Unfortunate, but the way life went. The brothers had just needed to adjust to the new situation, staying out of sight for a month or so before moving on to a new town to begin adopting all over again. For Christopher, the waiting was over, but before Keith would leave town he needed to finish what Christopher had started. Keith had to find Kosciak and make him pay for the events leading up to Christopher’s death, for intruding on their family.

  Keith entered the garage where the white van was parked. Knowing that every police officer within a couple hundred miles of Sutton was looking for it, he chose to his black SUV for this trip. He figured his best chance of finding Kosciak was at the police station. He would follow him and choose the right opportunity to kill him. The idea of killing Kosciak’s entire family still lingered in his thoughts, and if the opportunity presented itself that is exactly what he would do.

  Backing out of the garage, Keith noticed the overcast sky. The late afternoon hour made it look like night time. Being cautious, he waited until the SUV was almost on the secondary town road before turning on the headlights. After driving up the secondary road to the main road, Keith took a right, driving toward the police station in Sutton. He was not concerned about being spotted because the SUV was registered in the name of a person who had died three decades before. Keith created his double identity after getting a social security number using the dead man’s information. After obtaining the new social security number the rest was easy. Next, Keith was able to get a driver’s license using this dead man’s name and his new social number. Credit cards and other purchases became easy once he possessed the right documents and identity. Keith could move around freely as Walter Simpson. No one was any the wiser and Keith loved the drama it created.

  Driving up Route 9 toward Sutton, Keith decided to treat himself to a hot cup of coffee. He might even splurge and order a couple of those chocolate covered, crème filled doughnuts – that were his absolute favorites. He pulled into a parking space in front of the doughnut shop, got out of the SUV and walked in to order his coffee. The girl behind the counter was very pleasant and commented that the crème filled were her favorite, too. Keith smiled while looking past her at the drive-thru window. Another girl was handing her customer his bag of calories and three coffees. The customer paid and drove away, allowing the next customer to pull up to the take out window.

  Keith could not believe his eyes. The next vehicle was a Explorer with Ron Kosciak sitting behind the wheel. Stepping back to his right, Keith hid behind a partition next to the register watching Kosciak. “How could I be this lucky? Chuckling to himself, he continued watching as Ron took his order from the girl at the window. When Keith saw Kosciak looking for the money in his pocket, he calmly walked out the front door and got into his SUV. Waiting for Ron to pull out, he started the engine and took a sip of his coffee, relishing the idea that destiny had put Ron Kosciak, the next victim of the brother’s grim, right here, right now.

  As Ron drove away from the window, Keith briefly looked the other way. Ron pulled out onto Route 9 with Keith following a few vehicles behind. Knowing the SUV was not a vehicle that would draw Kosciak’s suspicion, he felt comfortable following a little closer without being seen. Hoping Kosciak was on his way back to Sutton, Keith presumed that the chief would be turn off this highway and take one of the dark, back roads to shorten the drive.

  “This may be the perfect opportunity to get this son-of-a-bitch,” Keith said out loud. Fate and destiny are working hand in hand to give me this chance to express my “dying” love for good, ole, Ronnie.”

  The two vehicles continued on Route 9 for the next five miles. Keith, keeping the same distance behind the Explorer, continued sipping on his coffee, enjoying the hot liquid as it rolled down his throat warming his stomach. Keith began to wonder why Kosciak was out this way buying three coffees. He was alone in the Explorer, and if he was driving to Sutton, the coffees would be cold by the time he arrived. No, there was something else going on here. Keith knew Route 9 was the road Kosciak would have taken to drive over to the Milford area, and was assuming Kosciak was doing just that. But when he saw the Explorer’s right directional light start to blink he knew exactly where the Explorer was headed.

  “Jesus Christ!” Keith shouted. “How the fuck did they think to look for me here?

  There’s no fucking way! NO FUCKING WAY!” he shouted again, his fist repeatedly pounding the dash board. Keith drove passed the exit for the hospital and watched the Explorer move up the main driveway to the facility. “Three coffees, three police officers,” he thought to himself. That meant that they were searching the buildings, and would eventually find Marty. He had to make a quick decision as he continued up the highway a half mile, pulling into a strip mall parking lot to think this new problem through.

  “If I go back and kill Marty right now, I can disappear without a trace. If I want to kill Kosciak, I can sit here and wait, killing him on his way back to Sutton.” Keith finished his cup of coffee in silence. “No, I don’t want Kosciak to get away with this. He, above anyone else, needs to pay for everything that has happened. I must kill him for Christopher. I’ll wait until he drives by, then kill him between here and Sutton on one of the unlit back roads. No one will find him until it’s too late. Then, I’ll back track and see which building the police are searching. If they are still far enough away from my building, I may have time to take care of Marty before I leave.” The plan made sense. Keith settled in the driver’s seat waiting for Kosciak to drive by, on his way to meet fate and destiny.

  After fifteen minutes, Kosciak’s Explorer drove by with its ornamental police lights sitting on the roof waiting for the next time they would flash their red and blue authority. “Here we go, Kosciak! Here we go!”

  64

  Keith continued to follow the white Explorer, waiting for the vehicle to turn off of Route 9 and onto one of the back roads. In the dark of the winter evening, Keith knew Kosciak would not be able to see who was behind the wheel of the black SUV keeping pace with him on the highway.

  “Here I come, Ronnie!” he thought to himself, eager for the exact second he would direct the police chief’s last dying moments. “Ronnie, my boy, you need to take the next left up ahead. Don’t be shy my man. Step right up and take a seat. You are center stage and the curtain is about to come down on you for your last mother fucking bow.”

  Keith saw the left directional on the Explorer start to blink.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Now I’m a freakin’ mind reader, too! You go, Ronnie. Go, Ronnie. Go!” he sang as he turned following his prey onto Cr
escent Street.

  Crescent Street wound through the woods like a python through jungle swamps. The very sharp and erratic turns on hilly terrain were difficult enough to navigate during the day light hours, but at night, without any street lights, the roadway could be treacherous, if not deadly. More than a few people had been killed in accidents on this road over the years. The roadway abutted frequent wetlands and marshes with no guardrails to prevent vehicles from driving off of the pavement and into the muck and mire or even crashing head on into one of the large trees lining the road. In some areas, stone ledge ran parallel to the roadway only a couple of feet from the blacktop. The ledge sported many long, multi-colored marks from cars and trucks alike, that had scraped fenders and doors trying to regain control. The Blackstone River flowed through the middle of this forested area, its brown, muddy water rippling and churning under bridges and culverts. The fast moving current and visual impenetrability of the water, made the river a place where an object could stay hidden for years just beneath the surface without ever being discovered. Keith knew it was on one of the bridges crossing the river, that he wanted to deliver his death blow to Kosciak. Keith opened the arm rest between the two front seats. Taking out a Glock 9mm, he checked to make sure the clip was secure in the butt of the handgun. “This should get his attention, real fast,” he thought, placing the weapon between his legs on the seat.

  “If I remember correctly, the bridge I want is about a mile ahead of us. Calm yourself now - calm. THINK and BE calm. Control your emotions and you control your environment. He doesn’t know what’s coming. You will have the edge, the element of surprise. An unsuspecting small town police chief on a back country road? This is going to be FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!”

  Keith knew by the turn and the slight down grade in the road that the bridge was just around the next right turn. This particular bridge did not go straight across the river, but instead crossed over the river at an angle making the bridge more diagonal and not perpendicular to the river’s banks. Just before the bridge, the roadway narrowed until it was the same width as the one lane of the bridge. This meant Kosciak would have to slow down to make sure that here was no other vehicle or obstruction on the bridge as he approached. Like most back roads, the town had not spent the money to install blockades or safety railings on either side of the road leading up the bridge.

  Keith began to tighten his grip on the steering wheel as both vehicles maneuvered around the last turn allowing his SUV to slow down, leaving a little more distance between the two. He watched as the entrance to the single lane bridge materialized in the headlights of the Explorer. Judging the distance to be about one hundred feet, Keith pushed the gas pedal to the floor and heard the engine come to life. His SUV closed the gap to the Explorer with both vehicles twenty five feet from the bridge. Keith positioned the SUV so it would strike the Explorer on the driver’ rear fender at the wheel well over the rear tire. As the SUV gained speed Keith saw the speedometer reading sixty-five miles per hour. By now, he knew Kosciak would see him barreling up on the back of the Explorer, but, it would be too late for him to react. As Keith had anticipated, the Explorer surged a little just before the two vehicles made contact. There was very little sound as the right, front bumper of Keith’s SUV pushed into the Explorer, moving the rear of the vehicle sideways from the angle of the impact. Keith saw Kosciak in the front of the Explorer trying vainly to steer his vehicle out of the accident. There was nothing Kosciak could do to prevent what was going to happen. Kosciak would surmise this was a pre-planned attack by Keith and that his impending death was unavoidable. Keith could care less what Kosciak’s thoughts were as his heart pounded excitedly, the two vehicles locked in combat moving toward the river’s edge.

  In the dark of the evening, their headlights lit up the bridge, the vehicles, and the river as it flowed away into the darkness. It was an eerie sight to behold as the Explorer, captured in this circle of light, was pushed sideways missing the entrance to the bridge by a few inches, then catapulting and spiraling into the air over the embankment. There was no sound at all as the Explorer fell the twenty feet down to the water below. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, as Keith watched with intent satisfaction as Kosciak’s’ Explorer entered the water, sending a spray of liquid ice in every direction almost as high as the bridge. Keith brought his SUV to a stop, jumped out, and ran over to the edge of the roadway with his Glock in hand.

  The instant the Explorer hit the water the driver’s door opened. The front of the vehicle was already underwater and it was being pulled along with the current away from the bridge. Only the headlights from Keith’s SUV lit up the area as he watched Kosciak start to climb out of the vehicle before the river pulled it completely under claiming it as its own. With his Glock sighted on the shadowy figure struggling to get free of a surging, watery grave, Keith pulled off four quick shots. “Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!” The gun sounded into the night stillness as two rounds found their mark and Keith watched Kosciak fall out of the vehicle limply into the water. There was no other sound after the Glock finished its death bark. Keith squinted, trying to focus more clearly on the lifeless figure floating away face down, being pulled into the night, most likely to snag on some fallen tree branch or rock formation downstream. It would be quite a while before anyone would find Ron Kosciak’s water-soaked, bloated body.

  “We, who have just killed your ass, salute you!” Keith announced to the quite, still night. He closed the door to his SUV and drove away from the bridge, already thinking about Marty McMaster, relishing this kill.

  65

  I held my breath for what seemed like five minutes before lifting my face out of the icy water to inhale lifesaving air. Trying not to move after falling into the water, I floated face down until the river’s current carried me far enough downstream to a place where I could safely maneuver myself toward the shoreline. When I fell into the water off of the Explorer, the muddy water got into my eyes making it difficult for me to see clearly as I now fought to swim across currents that moved in many different directions at the same time. Where the bridge crossed the Blackstone, the river was about three hundred feet across. The river’s depth averaged twenty-five to thirty feet with some stretches deeper, due to the water’s speeds, currents, and downed trees or rock outcroppings along the shorelines. In some areas the river was smooth and almost calm. In other areas the water was treacherous and unpredictable with under currents that could pull you under never to be seen again.

  Sitting in the Explorer as it spiraled off the road into the water, I thought that if it landed upside down I would not get out alive. The doors would have been held closed by the force of the turbulent waters and the vehicle would have submerged before I could escape. No, I was extremely fortunate it landed right side up and that I was able to get out into the open within seconds. I was not as lucky when I heard the sound of the gun and felt the bullet hit my left arm. Although it was only a flesh wound that might need a few stitches, it hurt like hell as I moved my arm swimming sluggishly in the water. The cold water was already numbing the wound along with the rest of my body. If I did not reach the shoreline soon, hypothermia would deal the last blow.

  A second bullet was firmly lodged in my Kevlar vest. Two other bullets missed their target and flew past me into the muddy river. I knew enough to fake being hit in a kill spot, letting myself go limp while falling away from the vehicle. The assailant, whom I presumed to be Keith Willingsby, must have thought I was dead otherwise he would have continued firing until he was certain. I was praying he was not following me down the river’s edge to finish the job as I felt the muddy river bottom under my feet telling me I had reached the shoreline.

  Figuring fifteen minutes since the accident and estimating the speed of the current, I figured I was about half a mile from the bridge into the woods. My clothing was soaked and the cold winter air was biting my fingers and my face as I pulled myself out of the river onto solid terra firma. My immediate
concern was to find warm shelter where I could contact the station and let my people know what had happened. My cell phone would be useless after being submerged and my two way radio was missing, having separated from my belt during the attack and my escape.

  My first steps where hesitant and unsure after my swim for survival. Keeping low while walking upstream toward the bridge, I kept my ears and hazy eyes attentive to any sound or motion that would indicate my attacker was still here hunting me in these woods. Without any streetlights on this road, I almost bumped into the bridge before I saw it. Struggling to pull myself up the embankment from the river onto the road, my thoughts were about Kim, Derek and their safety. If my attacker was Keith Willingsby, he was not here any longer. Believing I was dead he was most likely on his way back to the abandoned state hospital where I was sure he held Marty McMaster hostage. Keith must have seen us at the hospital and then followed me after I dropped off the coffees to Kim and Derek. If the shooter was Keith, then Kim and Derek were in very grave danger. He was now the hunter instead of the hunted. There had to be a way to warn them, but I knew as I became more lethargic that I was alone and would need a miracle in short order if I were going to get word to them about Willingsby. With each passing minute their situation became more life threatening and my life energies diminished, my body heat escaping through freezing muscles and soaked clothes. Even the blood oozing out of the bullet wound in my arm felt cold.

  I was not sure I could walk any further and decided the best action was to take no action at all. Sitting down on the side of the road by the bridge, I thought about Peggy and how much I loved her. I thought about our kids, grand kids, and the blessed life I was allowed to live these past fifty some years. My eyes were burning from the river silt, my fingers and face numb and no longer feeling winter’s sting. The one thing I wanted most was to lie down and sleep.