Adoption Read online

  Doc Cavanaugh’s initial findings from each of the autopsies confirmed that all of the girls were disfigured by their killer. Like Christine Sawyer, each was missing either their two ears or the eyes and lips. Ken wondered about the significance these trophies held for the killer. Why remove these body parts instead of a finger, hand, or the heart? He had read many police reports where the eyes had been removed, but he could not remember any instance where ears, eyes and lips were the coveted prize. A psychiatric profiler might be able to determine the significance eluding Ken’s thoughts, and, if so, might give them more insight into the motive for the killings.

  Ken knew he needed to get going. The press conference with Ron was due to begin in about an hour. Ken wanted to share notes with Ron before the onslaught of questions from reporters who were sure to bombard them during the meeting. He was glad Ron would shoulder the brunt of the meeting and did not envy the police chief one bit. Having been in that spotlight too many times himself, he knew what it felt like being a burger cooking on the back yard grill!

  24

  Marty did not know what time of day or night it was when she opened her eyes. Although emotionally and mentally terrified, her body finally reached the point of physical exhaustion after finishing her meal the night before. She slept without waking, although dreams filled with dark terror kept her body twitching and moving as her eyes rolled behind closed lids. Once again she looked around her room partly amazed at the detail with which it was recreated and frightened when remembering how he had obtained the information in the first place. How close did he stand next to her bed while she slept unaware of his entry or exit? He must have come into the house from the downstairs, because her room was on the second story without any trees or trellis for him to climb. A chill feeling ran through her body as she thought about being totally exposed and vulnerable while he stood in the darkness of her bedroom taking notes, watching her breathe beneath the blankets. Much of her uncertainty pertained to the fact that she did not know where she was or what time of day it was. She felt disconnected and at his mercy. This was exactly what he wanted – to keep her off balance and uninformed. She was his plaything and he required…no…demanded complete and total control. So far he had not physically hurt her in any way. In fact, he seemed gentle to some degree and thoughtful about her needs and comforts. She wondered just how long that would last. He did not seem interested in her in an intimate, sexual way. Somehow, he seemed very genuine about wanting to have her become part of his adopted family. Marty hoped she was right!

  Without a clock in the room, it was difficult to determine the passage of time. She may have slept two hours or ten hours. There was no way for her to know. Marty could only assume how long she had been a prisoner and she knew what the assuming anything is never a good idea. Her next thought catapulted her mind out of the grogginess of just having woken up to a clarity and awareness that initially startled her.

  “NEVER assume anything,” she thought. A mentally, crystal-clear directive, blossoming from a word in a phrase to a glimmer of hope in her mind. “Never assume; always know. Knowing is planning. Planning is the key to winning. I need to think. I need to remember everything he has said and done since I woke up in this room – every action, every word. Learn more about him. Get him to talk more about himself, more about his other kids. Play along with him and make him think I am willing and wanting to be a part of his family.” All of these thoughts were rolling through her mind one after the other like a line of cars stuck on the freeway. One thought after the other, after the other, after the other - a never ending line of thoughts.

  The already familiar sound of the door being unlocked signaled his return. Marty realized she was almost glad to hear the sound of the lock because the urge to pee after a lengthy sleep was again becoming the foremost thought in her mind. The two sodas she drank with her last meal were looking to escape, and the high limit alarm in her bladder was howling with reckless urgency.

  “Hello, Marty,” he said closing the door. Marty noted that this time he did not lock the door. As the door closed, he turned and walked over to the side of the bed never taking his eyes off of hers. She knew instinctively he would never let her leave this prison. He let her see his face right at the outset knowing she could recognize him and identify him if the opportunity ever presented itself in the future. No, her future was here, in this building, in this room, and at some point he would tire of her and have to kill her.

  She waited until he stood next to the bed before she spoke. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she spoke softly as a request, and after a brief hesitation, added, “Please.”

  He noted the submissive request feeling that Marty was coming around quicker than the other children before her. None of the other children ever responded with a please or a thank-you.

  “Sit up on the side of the bed,” he said as he gently gripped her upper arm to help her balance and swing her feet and legs onto the floor. “Because you are being very polite, I am going to take the ties off of your ankles and leave them off. I am going to keep your hands bound until I think I can trust you enough to remove them too. Do you understand what I am saying to you Marty?”

  “Yes, sir, I understand,” she said looking directly into his eyes to show she knew exactly what he meant. “I have given a lot of thought to what you said about my parents abandoning me at some point in time, and how they really do not love me. I know I am a burden on them, and they wish I was not their daughter. They yell at me constantly for things that are very trivial. I felt like I couldn’t do anything right in their eyes. I don’t know how you knew about my predicament, but I am thankful you cared enough to adopt me.” She was instantly afraid she was not convincing enough and, that he would see right through her attempt to win his confidence. Waiting ten to fifteen seconds and seeing that he was thinking about what she said, she continued, “Would it be possible to go to the bathroom now? I really have to go bad.”

  His train of thought broken for an instant by Marty’s request, he responded; “Yes, Marty, I’ll walk with you down the hallway. When you have finished in the bathroom, I’ll bring you your breakfast.” He was puzzled by Marty’s response. Was she really glad to have this opportunity? She had looked right into his eyes without flinching and showed no signs of hesitancy with her words. She seemed very genuine and sincere. He would bide his time and observe her over the next few days. He would listen and try to determine her sincerity. If… and at this point it was a very BIG if…if she was sincere, then she might be the best child a parent could ever hope to adopt. His other children took longer to realize how fortunate they were to have him as their father. In fact, each one of them needed to be shown just how lucky they were to be chosen for adoption by him. If Marty already realized her good fortune, perhaps she could be spared the lessons the other children experienced during their adoption process. If not, then he would have to teach her just as he taught them.

  He felt a sense of relief waiting in the hallway for Marty. Knowing the police took his other children away, he was feeling pressured to accelerate Marty’s adoption in order to complete the process and perhaps move to another home in another part of the country. It was not the fear of being caught that prompted his thoughts of relocation, but rather, that it would be much easier to adopt other children in an area where the local authorities were not already searching for him. If Marty was as sincere about her acceptance as she seemed, they would be able to move almost immediately which would please him very much. As he was processing these thoughts, the door to the bathroom opened and Marty stood next to him in the hallway.

  “Would it be possible to have a radio in my room to listen to and help pass the time? I know it is a lot to ask, but when you are not there with me the time passes very slowly.” Again, as she spoke, she kept her eyes directly on his eyes.

  “Yes Marty. I have a CD player upstairs I can set up for you when I bring you your breakfast. However, I do not want you
to play it too loudly. I’ll give you a headset to wear so that I do not hear it. I am a person who appreciates peace and quiet. I love spending time thinking and contemplating.”

  “Thank you very much,” she replied walking back to her room.

  As they entered Marty’s room he said, “I will leave the door to your room unlocked for now. You will be able to use the bathroom whenever you feel the need. I will, however, keep the door at the end of the hallway locked. If you try to open that door, I will be forced to bind your ankles again and lock the door to your room. I am trusting you fully understand what I am saying to you and, what the ramifications will be if you try to escape.”

  “Yes sir,” she said. “I am totally aware of what you are saying. I will do exactly what you tell me to do and will not try to escape.” Taking a slow, deep breath, she added, “And, thank you.”

  Looking deeply into her eyes - trying to detect any uncertainty, and not seeing any - he turned and began to walk out of the room. When he reached the doorway, he stopped, looked back at Marty, studied her for a few more seconds, turned and walked into the hallway. As he walked he thought, “Control, control, control. Too good to be true, so it probably isn’t. One step leads to the next. Be vigilant in your preparation my friend. Very, very vigilant. Control, control, control!”

  Marty listened to the sound of his footsteps fade until she heard the door at the end of the hallway close and lock. Silence filled the room immediately.

  “Does he believe me?” she thought sitting on the edge of her bed. “Was I convincing enough? I must have been. He left the door unlocked and at least now I can walk around down here. I’m not tied up like a steer at a rodeo!”

  Being able to walk was the first freedom Marty had regained since her abduction. She felt that if she maintained her attitude of acceptance with him, she might be able to maneuver herself into a position for escape when, if, an opportunity presented itself. She would need to be aware and ready at all times if that opportunity did become available.

  She walked over to the window and pulled the curtains open. Behind the curtains: a gray, concrete wall. There was no window to look out of. No hopes of seeing something familiar to indicate where this building might be located. Not knowing how long she was unconscious after being shot in the leg with the drug, she didn’t even know if she was in Massachusetts. For all she knew, she could be in Idaho or even California! However, somewhere deep within her, she instinctively knew that she was close to home. She also knew that by now her parents were going crazy not knowing where she was or what could have happened to her. She knew they would do whatever they had to do to locate her and bring her home safely. Marty stood quietly in the center of the room, closed her eyes, let her head tip backward thinking about her mom and dad trying to keep the hysteria from breaking back into her mind.

  25

  I was surprised at the size of the crowd gathered outside of the police department building for the news conference. It was a cold wintery morning, and I hoped the cold would keep some people away. I was wrong!

  The news about so many young, female murder victims being found at Meadow Pond guaranteed a circus-like atmosphere by the reporters sent here to ask the questions, and I knew the responses I gave would be the headlines later today on every news station throughout the country. As I stood looking out of my office window at the reporters and townspeople exhaling their wintery breath into the morning air, I felt not only the cold of winter outside on the street, but also a chill of uncertainty growing in my stomach as I prepared to start the news conference.

  Ken Garber arrived a few minutes before and we agreed I would take the lead and he would interject when he felt the need to do so, or when he was asked a question directly. Ken made no bones about it – he did not want to take point on this one.

  Opening the front door to the station, I walked out ahead of Ken and stood behind a microphone on a concrete landing about four feet above the sidewalk in front of the station. The microphone was purposely set up above the level of the crowd so I could see everyone as they spoke or moved, and to create an invisible barrier between the police and the reporters. Any reporter or civilian who started to walk up the steps toward the microphone would be asked not to do so. I hoped this maneuver would help to keep the crowd a little more under control and would diminish any overzealous, rowdy behavior from the media as they pushed and shoved for position and acknowledgement trying to get their questions asked and answered first.

  “Have you found any new victims out at the pond and, if not, is there any information indicating that there ARE more victims out at Meadow Pond?”

  The first question was shouted out by a young reporter from the Civic Ledger, a local paper from an adjacent town. Turning my head I smiled at Ken who also saw the humor. The veteran reporters with access to statewide and national broadcast coverage were beaten out by a small town newspaper reporter with a circulation of about three thousand. I took ten seconds to let the moment hang in the air as the veteran reporters all turned to look at the youngster who had just upstaged them.

  “Good morning.” I said, without answering the first question right away. I wanted to start by controlling the pace of the meeting. If I answered the question right away, the control would go to the reporters. It was imperative to let everyone know that this was our news conference and not theirs.

  “Let me start by saying this is an extremely sad day in the town of Sutton. As all of you know, we have transported five victims from the Meadow Pond area to Milford Hospital where forensic evaluations are being performed on each of the young women we found. We do not have any information to share with you regarding the cause of death for any of these victims, nor at this time will we be able to release the names of any of the victims to you. We can tell you that each of the victims is a college age female, we have determined that they all live within a one hundred mile radius of Sutton. To answer the first question: no, we have not found any more victims as of this morning.”

  “Chief, Kosciak - Chief.” A female reporter I recognized but did not know her name, shouted out over the three rows of people standing in front of her. Turning toward her voice, our eyes met as she asked, “Do you or the State Police believe there is a serial killer living in this area and, do you have any indication as to how long the killer may have been active?”

  “The evidence we have gathered to this point would indicate that this could be the work of a serial killer. However, the investigation is just getting under way and we can’t positively state that as a fact at this time.”

  “Chief, do you have any motive or motives for these killings? Were any of these young women sexually assaulted?” another reporter shouted from the back of the crowd.

  “As I have just said, the investigation is just beginning and we can’t give out any information that might hinder or prevent us from finding the person or people responsible for these killings.”

  “You think there may be more than one person responsible for these murders?” yet another reporter shouted out.

  “We cannot overlook any possibility at this time. We will make determinations as we go along during our investigation.” My response was calculated. I was hoping the killer would believe the police were looking for more than one person instead of a solitary serial killer, although everyone on the investigative team pretty much knew this was the work of a single killer and not a team or group of individuals going around abducting young women, torturing them and killing them.

  “Chief Kosciak. Is it true the first victim found was Christine Sawyer, the young woman who disappeared about eight weeks ago on her way home from a party, and is it true, that some sort of drugs or chemicals were used to kill her?”

  This question rocked me down to the soles of my size 11 police boots as I wondered, “How the hell the drug information got leaked to the press? Who in their right mind, would want to give out that information?” I stood non-responsiv
e and almost catatonic at the microphone. Ken, sensing my momentary lapse of concentration brought on by the surprise question, stepped up to the microphone and said, “As Chief Kosciak has stated, we cannot give out any names of the victims at this time, nor any information regarding the cause or causes of death. The investigation is ongoing and we will not compromise the investigation by giving out details that would harm the investigation or our chances of catching whoever is responsible for these killings. We can only, at this time, verify that we do have five young, female victims all about the same age, who were found at the pond and, who all lived within one hundred miles of Sutton.”

  Ken turned to me asking if there was any additional information I’d like to add. Turning back to the microphone, I responded, “Ladies and gentlemen, we do not have any further information to give to you at this time. We will contact you for an update in the very near future. Please do not print anything that is speculative in your reports. We ask that you state only the facts as we have given them to you. Thank you for your cooperation.”