Adoption Read online

  Peggy was right to leave some lights on for me. In my present state of exhaustion, I would have done a cartwheel over an end table if I tried to negotiate my way through the living room over to the stairs in the dark. As it was, I missed the first step going up the stairs and almost fell flat on my face. Usually, after work, I sit down in my worn out, leather recliner and sip on a Captain and Coke while I skim through the newspaper. Tonight, I went right up to bed, quietly undressed, and slid under the covers next to Peggy. I laid in the darkness listening to her light, rhythmic breathing. Although I was glad I did not wake her, I would have enjoyed a little conversation, a hug, and a goodnight kiss before I rolled over. My day never seems complete unless we spent time talking or horsing around enjoying down time from the hustle of the day. (Peggy often says I have a strong feminine side.) Tonight would not be a complete day, as I lay in the dark of the room trying to push thoughts of mutilation and murder out of my mind.

  The next morning, I felt the back of Peggy’s hand moving over the side of my face as she started to wake up. She always sleeps on her side with her arm resting on the top of my pillow, and each morning, I move her hand out of my right eye. Some mornings I am able to roll over and go right back to sleep. This morning I would not have that luxury.

  I knew Doc Cavanaugh was up to his neck in autopsies. I hoped Doc had taken a few hours to run home and catch some sleep, but I knew him well enough to know that he probably grabbed a sheet and curled up on his office couch for an hour or two at the most. I wondered if he would be the same person after all of this was over and done. In fact, I wondered if any of us would ever be the same again.

  “Hey – Kosciak,” I heard Peggy say with morning cotton still in her mouth. “Never heard you come in last night. What time did you get home?”

  “Somewhere around 3am, baby. I thought for sure you heard me almost take a gainer up the stairs. I’m not the most graceful person in the world at 3am.”

  “You’re not the most graceful person at any time of the day!”

  “Thanks for your vote of confidence,” I said patting her butt as I stood trying to find my slippers which always managed to slide under the bed during the night. I have always believed there is a foot fairy who steals single socks while they are in the washing machine or clothes dryer and also hides slippers and shoes under beds and bureaus. You never the find the one, missing sock -- it is never seen again no matter how hard or where you look for it. Using your foot to locate slippers under the bed results in pulling out huge dust kitties on the end of your big toe. This morning was no exception. “Hello? This damned thing isn’t a kitty, it’s a freakin’ mountain lion!” I thought as I looked down at a dust ball covering half my foot.

  Finding my slippers on the third attempt, I grabbed my cell phone and walked out of the bedroom heading downstairs to pick up the morning paper -- wherever it might have been thrown today. Our paperboy is not known for his accuracy when throwing the paper up onto the front porch. In fact, some mornings I find the paper in our neighbor’s yard or in the bird bath. You would think, being the town’s police chief, I would earn a little more respect. However, this morning his aim was right on the money. As I opened the front door the paper was right at my feet. “Will wonders never cease.” I thought looking down at the headline on the front page staring up at me in very large, bold, black type.

  The instant I read the headline I froze in my tracks. “What the hell!” I blurted out. There, on my front porch, as well as for the other 35,000 customers of our local newspaper, the headline read: “SERIAL KILLER AT LARGE – FIVE BODIES UNEARTHED AT MEADOW POND”

  My blood pressure jumped from 140 over 90 up to about 600 over 400. I thought I was going to explode as I stood on my porch, mouth wide open, wondering how this information could leak out so quickly. Who the hell had enough information to call the paper and spill the story? Even I didn’t have enough information to discuss this case with the press and I was the goddamned police chief! Picking up the newspaper, I turned back into the house as Peggy came down the stairway.

  “Did I hear you using the “F” word again, Kosciak? She asked. “If I heard you upstairs, I know Gordon and Pam heard you next door. If you’re not careful they will call the cops on you for using profanity on the front porch, before 7AM, on the Sabbath!” A faint chuckle sounded in her throat as she looked up into my reddened face.

  “Can you believe this crap?” I blurted out without paying any attention to what Peggy was saying. “Somebody has already talked to the paper about the serial killer and the four bodies we found out at the pond! The shit is going to hit the fan when everyone reads this. Jesus, baby, I’d like to get my hands on the stupid son-of-a-bitch who did this!”

  Peggy knew I was about to go over the edge. The hours had been long; the brutality of the killings was taking its toll, and she knew that I was personally involved. All of these things added up to extreme stress, a trigger temper, and no patience for anyone who did not get on board and work their asses off to find the answers.

  “Honey” She said to putting her hand on my chest rubbing lightly in little circles, “You knew this was going to happen. Someone always leaks this type of story for the sensationalism it creates. People want to create this type of upheaval and panic. There is nothing you can do to change what has happened. The story is printed and out on the streets. The only thing you can do is to go out there and do your job. Catch this sicko before he kills some other young girl. Come into the kitchen and have a cup of coffee with me before you have the entire neighborhood up listening to more of your profanities!”

  I knew Peggy was right, but that did not help my wanting to kick someone’s ass for spilling the beans and creating more problems than we already had. This was not starting out to be a good day! The single largest backlash of this news leak being on the front page was that now the killer would know the murdered girls had been found. Our element of surprise disappeared before we even had the opportunity to start looking for him. He might be out of the country before the next edition hit the newsstands later in the day.

  22

  He watched Marty nervously eat the ham steak, mashed potatoes, and broccoli that he cooked for their supper. It was apparent to him that she was afraid the food was laced with some sort of poison or drug, and it was only after he took a bite of each item on her plate, that she devoured her supper and drank two glasses of soda. Setting up T.V. trays in her room, they ate without saying much of anything, with the exception of his telling her to slow down a little or she would choke on the food. Her eyes told him to shut up. She did not have to speak in order for him to know exactly what she was thinking. He understood her anger and would allow some level of disrespect at this point in their relationship. After supper ended, he cleared away the dishes and took everything upstairs to the kitchen, making sure Marty was securely bound once again before locking the door to her room. Once the dishes were washed, dried and everything put back in its proper place he returned to Marty’s room for their discussion.

  “The basis for any good relationship is communication,.” he told her. “From this communication comes trust and from this trust springs the desire to listen and to understand other people’s opinions and feelings. Understanding does not mean that you agree with everything someone else says or does, believes or does not believe, but rather that you have taken the time to listen and respond accordingly. You always hope this to be a reciprocal situation and, that the other person or people will afford you the same courtesy.”

  It was essential to him that each of his adopted children listen to his philosophies pertaining to communication and listening. It was the foundation of the very relationship he was trying to build with Marty and that he had built with his other adopted children.

  Marty asked when she would be able to meet her brothers and sisters. He told her that she would get to meet them soon enough, but first it was imperative that she understand what he was saying
to her about communication and trust. She needed to know just what he meant about listening before responding. Once he felt she fully understood this, then, and only then, would she be allowed to meet the rest of his family. Although he knew she was anxious and suspicious, he sensed that she comprehended what he was saying to her. She would only nod her head to affirm her understanding. Her asking about brothers and sisters did not go unnoticed and, in fact, caught his interest. None of the other adopted children had ever bothered to ask about the other siblings. After their discussion, he walked her back to the bathroom where she washed her face and hands, went to the bathroom and upon returning to her room, he secured her hands and ankles once again before she rolled onto her side for the night.

  Sitting in his chair slowly sipping his morning coffee, replaying the events of the night before with Marty, he leaned forward and turned on the television. Sandy Beckman, the weather forecast person for Channel 8 News was pointing to the South Shore area near Plymouth where he could see the rain icon hovering over the coastline.

  “More rain today, tapering off this evening for South Shore residents,” she said as the screen changed to show the five day forecast for the region.

  “Ah.” He thought. “The weekend is looking good. No rain in sight and the temperatures will be in the mid-thirties: Perfect weather for Marty and me to have our family outing.”

  He was always amazed at how sexy the weather women dressed for these news casts. Tight fitting dresses or short skirts and low-neckline blouses accentuating their feminine attributes! Most male viewers probably never hear what the weather is going to be for the day. They are too busy drooling on their television screen. Ratings: It’s all about ratings, and the producers do not mind selling their air time using beautiful women.

  While he was thinking about weather women, a blue-banded ticker moved from right to left on the bottom of the television screen with the latest news of the morning. There was a volcanic eruption off the coast of Newfoundland; North Korea was rattling swords again to keep the Korean peninsula destabilized; the New England Patriots were hesitant to sign one of their running backs to a long term contract because of his age. Then he saw a box flash on the screen that said, “BREAKING NEWS!” The screen went blank for a split second before the news caster reappeared, looking truly shaken.

  “There is breaking news coming out of Sutton this morning,” he said. “We have just learned moments ago that police in Sutton have unearthed the bodies of five dead women found buried in the Meadow Pond area.”

  Although continuing to stare at the television screen, he no longer heard a word the newscaster was saying. His mind was already racing, trying to absorb the news report. His eyes were looking at footage of Meadow Pond, the Sky copter that was circling the pond zooming in every few seconds on the opened, earthen graves in and near the embankment.

  “How… the… Christ? Who could have found them? No one EVER goes there! Son-of-a-bitch! MY CHILDREN! TAKEN AWAY! STOP IT! LISTEN! For Christ’s sake, compose yourself and listen! CONTROL. CONTROL!”

  He moved forward a few inches listening to every word the news caster said, watching the live aerial footage from the chopper. He could see local and state police still at the scene. The news-caster reported that five bodies, maybe more, were transported to Milford hospital during the previous day and throughout the night. Unconfirmed sources had said that the women were all college age, and that the bodies had been mutilated. The news commentator was not specific regarding the type of mutilation, but he knew, sitting forward in his chair, exactly what each looked like after their adoption was completed. In fact, part of each was next to him right now, preserved in remembrance.

  “This breaking story was just received moments before our broadcast. Our news team is on their way to Sutton right now, and we should have live coverage from the scene by our 8AM broadcast. All we know at this time is that there are said to be five bodies of young, college-aged women, who were discovered yesterday buried around the shoreline of Meadow Pond in Sutton. You can see from our Sky copter that there is activity on the west side of the pond, putting the crime scene close to Route 146 which runs south from Worcester to Providence. The initial report states that each of the young women suffered some type of physical mutilation. We do not know how extensive the mutilation was, nor do we have any information on the actual cause of death for these victims. Attempts to discuss this developing story with the Sutton Police Department have been unsuccessful. A police spokesperson told us a few moments ago that Chief of Police Ron Kosciak will have a statement sometime this morning along with a representative from the Massachusetts State Police. We will keep you up to date as this story unfolds. We will be interrupting our regularly scheduled programs throughout the day to keep you updated on this story.”

  Sitting back in the chair he was still recovering from the initial shock of the news-cast. The report did not give much information regarding “who found the bodies”, or the “how the bodies were found”. He knew these questions would be answered later in the day when Kosciak held his news conference. But right now, he was stunned that his kids had been found and were now in a cold morgue at the hospital. His anger mixed with a sense of mournful loss as the first waves of surprise subsided. Then his calculating, controlled, thought process began to take over once again. There was no thought of getting caught. He was too perfect in his execution. They wouldn’t find any clues that would point in his direction. He was too methodical. His confidence and arrogance overrode any thoughts of caution as retaliation became his second most important goal. Marty was still uppermost, and he would proceed with her adoption immediately. He could handle Kosciak and anyone else responsible for taking away his children in due time, and handle them he intended to do.

  23

  Ken Garber sat at his desk reviewing information about the girls that investigators were able to gather during the eighteen hours since the last victim was found buried out at the pond. This information included everything from the height and weight of each victim down to what each victim ate for their last meal. Parents, relatives, friends, classmates and neighbors were all questioned without any being thought of as potential suspects. Boyfriends or partners were questioned by respective police departments in the areas where each girl lived or went to college, and all alibis checked out. Campus staff at each of the colleges attended by the victims - including professors, cafeteria personnel, janitorial and maintenance personnel as well as administrative personnel all checked out without so much as a recent parking ticket.

  None of the girls were known to use recreational or hard drugs or to frequent areas where these drugs might be purchased. Religion did not seem to be a connection as some of the families were not active in any church or religious group. Only two of the girls were members of sports teams. All excelled academically, though none attended the same college or were members of any collegiate club or honor society that was associated with the other colleges. Being full time students, none of the victims even held a part time job. One of the girls spent two weeks as a patient in the Worcester Medical Center for pneumonia last year. None of the other girls had been admitted to a hospital within the last five years. Three were licensed to drive while the others were not. Cell phone records showed that none of the victims called one another nor were any of the other numbers on their respective phones connected in any way. Police departments from each town or city where each victim lived were contacted and asked to procure and send along any lap top or PC the victims owned so that each could be inspected to determine if any of the victims were communicating via Facebook or e-mail. Ken thought this was a slim possibility, but one he could not afford to overlook. He believed these girls were, in fact, all complete strangers and, at this time, it looked as though there was absolutely no connection between any of them. It seemed, by the evidence already collected to this point, that these girls were chosen completely at random by their killer.

  Police departments
from all over the state were faxing or e-mailing information hourly as local and state police investigators in Sutton and Auburn feverishly worked through the data looking for anything that might give them a clue. Even police departments from adjoining states were sending information that they thought might be helpful. In a very short amount of time, this investigation was becoming the single largest investigation of its kind going on in the U.S. It is said that at any given moment, there are between 20 to 50 unknown serial killers active in the United States. This brand new investigation with multiple, female victims found buried at a single site, would rocket to the front page of every newspaper and headline every internet site in the world.

  Ken ordered a profile board to be set up in an adjacent staff meeting room where pictures of each girl were posted across the top. Information pertaining to each cascaded down the face of the board like an informational waterfall. Different sized and colored papers with information scribbled or written were tacked to the cork board – the lives of each displayed for all to see and review. Less than a day ago, none of these girls, except Christine Sawyer, were known to anyone in this room. Today was a different story.

  Ken rocked in his chair with his head tilted back staring at the ceiling of his office. There was no apparent pattern to the killer’s selection. However, there was a pattern regarding the method used to murder each of the victims. Randomly selecting each girl from an area over a one hundred mile radius of Sutton meant that their chances of finding this person were getting smaller by the minute. The killer was able to travel a long distance to abduct a victim, and then was able to transport the victim back to the burial site at Meadow Pond. The abductions taking place at different times of the day or night suggested that the killer had a flexible schedule and perhaps did not even hold a full time job, allowing him to move about freely at any time of the day or night. A killer with ample time and the ability to move about the state without leaving a trace of evidence, anywhere, would be almost impossible to track down. Ken knew their best chance was tied directly to finding out where the drugs used to kill the girls came from. If they could locate the origin of the drugs, they might be able to find out how the drugs were procured and by whom. It was a long shot, but it was a shot none the less. He would assign an investigator to begin this part of the investigation immediately.