Slags, p.8
Jerry McNeal 09-Uncanny Coincidence, page 8
“You need anything, call.”
“Is the girl coming?” Fred asked as he stepped back into the room.
Jerry ran his thumb across the phone. “Sounds like it.”
“Don’t sound so glum. You did the right thing asking her to come.”
“That’s the thing. I didn’t ask her to come.”
“You just said she’s coming.”
“Yep.”
“And you didn’t ask her to come?”
“Nope. They are already on the way. I just got off the phone with Seltzer, who said April called him last night in a panic. He told them he’d seen me in Thurmont earlier in the day, so they hopped a plane to DC about twenty minutes ago, probably closer to thirty now.”
“What do they expect to do once they get to DC?”
“According to Seltzer, rent a car and use the force to find me.”
“Can she do that?”
“Yep.”
Fred sank into the recliner with a whistle. “Is that normal? I mean, for a kid her age?”
Jerry shook his head. “There’s nothing normal when it comes to having the gift. But no, near as I can tell, Max is in a league of her own.”
“She and her mother are not going to be able to get through security at the gate. I’ve got my secretary working on the room and travel. I’ll have my secretary cancel the Learjet and order a car to meet them at the airport and bring them here.”
Jerry raised a brow. “Learjet?”
“As I’ve said, the job does have its perks.”
Gunter raised into a sitting position. Jerry looked to the door as Barney entered.
Dressed in a nearly identical black suit as Fred’s, he carried a shopping bag. Barney smiled his greeting and walked to the bed, where he moved the bedside table to the foot and handed Jerry the bag. “I’m glad to see your color’s better. You’re a bit less green than the last time I saw you. How are you feeling?”
“I’ll do.” Jerry opened the bag, half expecting to find a dark suit. He was relieved to see grey sweatpants and a package of navy blue t-shirts. Digging deeper, he found two packages of underwear, one containing boxers – the other briefs. Jerry grinned at Barney and winced when it tugged at his sutures. “That’s what I like, a man that can make decisions.”
Barney shrugged. “I didn’t know if you were a swinger or a nester.”
Jerry stuffed everything back inside the bag and set it to the side. “Sorry, fellows, I know we’re supposed to be family and all, but some things are best left a mystery.”
Chapter Ten
Barney brought in Jerry’s computer and the files on all of the missing women so that Jerry could revisit the files while waiting for Max and her mother to arrive. Having gone over everything at least a dozen times, Jerry now sat with the tray table pulled over the bed, scrolling through Facebook on his laptop. He had six tabs open, one for each victim of the Hash Mark Killer. While he had a list of other missing redheads, Patti O’Conner, Ashley Marie Fabel, Rita Wadsworth, Rosie Freeman, Rebecca Sue Richardson, and Fiona Johnson were confirmed victims. Though no one had actually spoken to Fiona, there was enough evidence to link the woman to the killer.
Jerry pulled out the list Seltzer had given him at the cabin and compared it to the one provided by Fred. Both lists were identical, and both were missing the names of the two latest victims, Susie Richardson and Fiona Johnson. Both lists listed the names of three remaining victims, Ginger Campbell, Jill Jackson, and Tiffany McCullen. Jerry knew the disappearances to be connected but decided to keep them separate until confirmed.
Jerry clicked on the tab for Patti O’Conner’s Facebook page and began carefully scrolling through each post for the umpteenth time. The most recent post had been made by one of her brothers telling about a planned memorial service. There were hundreds of comments listed under the original post. Jerry scrolled through them looking for anything that stood out. Nothing did. He moved to a previous post with a link to the newspaper article, which told of finding Patti’s body. Jerry clicked on the link and read the article, which told of authorities finding Patti’s body in an unmarked grave and general details about her death without naming Jerry or linking her murder to a serial killer. Jerry clicked out of the article and read the messages in the comments, most of which offered condolences to the family. A few spoke of the horrors of having such a thing occur in their town. Nothing stood out in the comments, all of which appeared to be normal outrage that comes with something out of their control. Jerry continued to scroll down the page reading standalone posts created before the discovery of her body from friends and family inquiring as to her whereabouts. Prior to those were posts from Patti herself, none of which implied any knowledge of what was about to happen to her.
Jerry clicked through the tabs, reading through each woman’s page with pretty much the same results. All of the pages had what appeared to be normal page activity preceding the woman’s disappearance, followed by a massive outcry of disbelief and outrage over the murder and prayers for the family. Try as he might, the only thing Jerry could find that connected the women was the fact they had red hair.
Undeterred, Jerry brought up Ashley Fabel’s page and started over. There had to be something linking the women. He just needed to figure out what that something was. He pushed the computer to the side and picked up the envelope with the women’s photos – pulling each out one at a time, looking for any similarities. The most obvious, each victim had red hair. The shades varied, but looking at the photos, comparing complexions and freckles, it was easy to tell the women in the images were all true redheads. Jerry placed the pictures in order by date of death. Rita Wadsworth, Rosie Freeman, Patti O’Conner, Ashley Marie Fabel, Ginger Campbell, Tiffany McCullen, and Jill Jackson. Happy with the order, he then added Susie Richardson and Fiona Johnson. Once he had them where he wanted them, he concentrated on each image in turn, memorizing every little detail, praying something would click. He’d gone through them a half dozen times and was starting on another round when he stopped.
He concentrated on Rita Wadsworth, going over the details she’d revealed to him. “Why Rita?”
Lying at the foot of the bed, Gunter lifted his head at the sound of Jerry’s voice. Now that Jerry had a captive audience, he continued his outward musings. “Rita was killed in June of 2017. According to her, the guy was insecure and seemed surprised his plan had worked. The question is, what set him off?”
Gunter lowered his head but continued to watch as Jerry turned the photo over and read the information on the attached sheet. “From Chesapeake, Virginia, Rita was killed while visiting Niagara Falls.” Jerry drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m missing something. I just know it.”
He flipped through the other photos, reading the information on the back and moving to the next. Except for Rita, Patti, and Ashley, all the women were killed or abducted along the east coast. Two of the three killed elsewhere were on vacation from east coast cities. Jerry looked at Gunter. “Our killer lives on the east coast.”
Gunter raised his head and barked a single bark.
“Glad to see you agree.” Jerry sorted through the photos and concentrated on the image of Patti. Of all the victims, she was the only one that didn’t fit in and the only one not from the east coast. He pulled off a sticky note. Picking up his pen, he wrote why Patti. He stuck it to her photo and moved it to the side.
He held up the pictures of Ashley, Rosie, and Susie. All three women were from Massachusetts, but that was the only common denominator he could find. Interesting. But not interesting enough. He set the photos aside.
Though he hadn’t spoken to Ginger, Jill, or Tiffany, none of the information on the back of the photos showed anything other than what aligned with the other victims. Each of the three was between twenty and thirty-one and had red hair. Jerry moved them to the side and picked up Fiona’s picture. Fiona was a twenty-something redhead who lived just south of Fredrick and was stationed here at the hospital.
Jerry looked toward the door and hoped he would learn more after he had a chance to talk to the woman. Setting her photo aside, he was right back where he started, staring at the photo of Rita Wadsworth, the Hash Mark Killer’s first victim. She was the catalyst, and he knew it. He just didn’t know why. He peered at the image. “Why you?”
Not getting his answer, Jerry picked up the photos of the three women they had yet to uncover. Ginger Campbell, age twenty-five, went missing from Washington DC on July 23, 2020. Jill Jackson, age twenty-four, went missing from the Outer Banks of North Carolina on August 19, 2021. Tiffany McCullen, twenty-eight, was last seen in Charleston, South Carolina the morning of September 3, 2020.
Jerry fished his cell from under the stack of photos and dialed.
Fred answered on the second ring. “Let me guess, you want a new nurse.”
“Nah, I’ve grown rather fond of being called Bubba.”
“Good, he’s with you for a reason.”
“Let me guess. He’s one of yours.”
“Nope, but he’s been read in on your situation and why you are there. Plus, he played football in college. Anyone comes after you, my money’s on Jim.”
Jerry frowned into the phone. “Who would be coming after me?”
“No one that we know of, but since you’re not up to a hundred percent, I’m not taking any chances. Besides, as I said, the guy knows why you are there and will be an asset in getting you into Ms. Johnson’s room.”
“Good to know. Listen, I’ve been going over this case and I keep going back to Rita Wadsworth.”
“What about her?”
“She was the first victim. I think that should be our focus. Something else, I think the killer is from Virginia.”
“Three of the victims were from Massachusetts. I’ve been thinking our boy is from there. Virginia, is that a hunch or are you pinging on something?”
“A little of both. Plus, Max was visibly shocked when Ashley said she was from Boston. Max kept getting Virginia. It seemed to bug her that she was wrong. What if she wasn’t wrong? What if she was picking up on the killer instead?”
“If she’s as good as you say she is, I’d say it sounds reasonable. Anything else?”
“Yes, in each case thus far, the killer has buried his victim in a grave with a recently buried body. I want you to cast a net around Ginger Campbell, Jill Jackson, and Tiffany McCullen. Find out if anyone had been buried within three days of their disappearance.”
Fred didn’t sound so sure. “Those are some pretty big cities. How big of a net should I cast?”
“For now, keep it to five to ten miles. You’re looking for cemeteries that are out of the way. Ones that would offer the killer some privacy to take his time with his victims. If you get multiple hits, I can check them out.”
Fred sighed into the phone. “Okay, I’ll let you know what we come up with. If you need anything else, let me know.”
Jerry had no sooner disconnected the call than Gunter stood and began wagging his tail. A second later, he leapt from the bed and raced from the room. Max. Jerry smiled. Max was the one person besides him Gunter truly reacted to.
Sure enough, the girl’s giggles filled the hallway as her mother admonished her to be quiet in the hospital. Max was the first to enter, still giggling as Gunter did what looked like a dolphin move at her side. Her hair had grown since he’d last seen her, and she had it pulled into a tight braid. She saw him sitting in the hospital bed, and her laughter stopped.
“Jerry? I knew you were hurt!” She looked over her shoulder as April entered the room. “See, Mom, I told you something was wrong.”
April’s hair was pulled into a braid similar to what Max wore. She was dressed in jeans and a light sweater that framed her slender body. She had dark circles under her eyes, leading Jerry to wonder when she’d last slept. She took in the hospital bed. Her gaze landed on the bandage covering his cheek. Her brows knitted together, her lip twitched, and for a moment, he thought she might cry. Instead, she pulled herself taller and firmed her chin. “Are you alright, Mr. McNeal?”
Jerry pushed the tray table back and carefully turned to face them. “I’m fine. What’s with the Mr. McNeal stuff? I thought we agreed you’d call me Jerry.”
Max kept her hand on Gunter’s head as she watched him push from the bed. “You’re not okay. I can feel it right here.”
Jerry was thankful he’d pulled on the sweatpants and t-shirt, as those gowns offered little cover. He smiled as she placed her hand on the right side of her ribcage. “You’re good, Max. Care to tell me how many ribs are broken?”
She closed her eyes and ran her hand along her ribcage.
“None,” April answered for her. “Two are cracked. The others are bruised.”
Jerry stared at April. Savannah had told him she thought April to have the gift, but he hadn’t expected this.
April laughed a lovely laugh. “Don’t look so surprised. I spoke with Fred after we were picked up from the airport. I wasn’t expecting that, by the way.”
Max’s face brightened. “It was so cool! As soon as we got off the airplane and cleared the little tunnel, there was this guy in a suit and hat holding this big sign that said ‘Buchanan.’ He helped us get our bags and took us to a big black car. I was hoping it would have been a limo, but it was nice all the same. We didn’t have to get a rental car, which was good because I don’t think Mom would have liked driving in all that traffic. Mom thought Rodger, that was the guy’s name, she thought he might have been there for someone else, but I didn’t think there’d be any other Buchanans on the plane. Besides, I felt that you’d sent him. That’s when I knew you were okay. You are okay, aren’t you, Jerry?”
Jerry had forgotten how enthusiastic Max could be. He nodded. “I’m still a little sore, but I’ll be fine.”
Max took a tentative step. “Can I hug you?”
Jerry stretched his arms. “Of course you can.”
Max stepped into his embrace, and Jerry closed his arms around her. Max looked over her shoulder at April. “Come on, Mom, you need a hug too. You were just as worried as I was.”
April giggled a nervous giggle. “That’s okay, Max. I don’t want to hurt Jerry.”
“You’re not going to hurt him. Is she, Jerry? I’ve seen TikTok videos that say hugs are good for healing and take the pain away.”
Jerry let go of Max with one arm and looked at April. “Who am I to argue with TikTok?”
April stepped forward and carefully wrapped her arms around the two of them. Jerry couldn’t speak to the pain leaving his body, but for the smallest of moments, he thought maybe the fall down the mountain had been worth it.
Chapter Eleven
There was a knock at the door. Max and April moved away as Jim entered. The man smiled. “Sorry, Bubba, I didn’t know your family was here.”
Jerry started to correct him but decided against it – mostly because neither April nor Max seemed upset by the remark.
“I brought you something to make you more comfortable. Pull your shirt off for me.”
Jerry untucked his shirt and began to lift it over his head. The simple movement of raising his arms had him gritting his teeth and breathing in short breaths.
Jim stepped closer and took hold of the shirt. “Let me help you with that, Bubba.”
April gasped at the deep purple bruise.
Max was a little less reserved. “Holy crap, does it hurt? It must. Look at your face!”
“He’ll be alright,” Jim assured them as he pulled the Velcro that connected the brace and stretched it around Jerry’s ribcage. “This will help hold you in place. You just have to remember to take it off and adjust it from time to time so things don’t swell in there.”
The feeling of relief was instantaneous. Jerry took a deep breath and lifted his arms. While he still felt discomfort in his ribs, the device allowed him to move and breathe without feeling like he should have his man card revoked.
Jim adjusted the Velcro. “How does that feel, Bubba?”
“Much better. Thank you.”
Max screwed up her face. “Why do you keep calling him Bubba? His name is Jerry.”
April pulled Max close. “Maxine, mind your manners.”
Jim laughed a hearty laugh. “Ah, it’s okay. She didn’t mean anything by it. Neither do I. You see, little lady, I’m not so good with names. I can read the name, and poof, it’s gone, just like that. But ‘Bubba’ I can remember, so I call everyone that. Most people don’t think anything of it, but occasionally, I’ll get someone who insists I use their proper name.”
“Do you call girls Bubba too?” Max persisted.
Jim winked. “No, I’d call you Missy or Little Lady.”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” Max agreed.
“Good, I’ll remember that. You need help getting that shirt back on there, Bubba?”
“Nope, I’m good,” Jerry replied.
“Okay. I’ll let you know when the coast is clear,” Jim told him, then left the room.
Jerry grabbed his shirt and worked to get it over his head. April stepped up and helped. Jerry looked her in the eye and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Coast is clear for what?” Max asked, breaking the moment.
Jerry motioned April to the chair, then sat on the side of the bed and addressed his attention to Max. “That’s the uncanny part. You know how you kept pinging on the number 207, thinking it was a bad thing?”
Max nodded.
“It just so happens I needed to be in this room because down the hall is another victim of the Hash Mark Killer.”
April brought her hand to her chest. “Is she going to be okay?”
Jerry shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. According to her doctors, the woman is in an irreversible coma.”
“That’s a shame. But what does her being in a coma have to do with you being in here?”
“Because you can talk to her, right, Jerry?” Max replied.
Jerry smiled. “You’re one smart kid, Max.”
