The Trinity Murders Read online

  Carl stepped out of the van and instead of checking Topper’s pulse or even rolling him over, he reached into his pocket, produced a taser and literally added insult to injury. With the taser back in his pocket, he grabbed Topper under each arm and tossed him into the van, much like Boggs tossed Mandy into her grave.

  He went in after Topper, closing the van door behind him. He quickly zip tied his wrists together and his ankles and placed a bag over his head. Topper never saw it coming and even though the plan would be to kill him, until he was secure out at Boggs’s farm, there was no reason for him to know his identity.

  As he got back behind the wheel and eased away from the curb, the hula girl took up her familiar gyrations. He checked both side mirrors and the surrounding park. Nobody seemed to be running in his direction and he seemed to have gone unnoticed. The thump of Topper hitting the pavement wasn’t that loud and with no screeching tires or erratic driving no one seemed to realize what had happened. Only one person saw it, and he had been finishing up his third dessert in the diner.

  26

  He found out her name was Ally and she was heading west towards California. She started in Atlanta, Georgia, and this was her second full day of traveling. She wanted to be a movie star but her family wasn’t quite on board with that dream. She didn’t have anybody waiting for her on the West Coast but she knew a girl who made the same journey three years back. She had actually seen her in a couple commercials and she even had two lines in a made for TV movie and this gave her hope. She planned to track her down when she got out there and hopefully sleep on her couch until she got on her feet.

  Billy found none of this interesting or the slightest bit intriguing. What he did like was finding out as much about his girls as possible because it made what came next much more fun for him. He learned early on that once she realized she was in a trap she was much less likely to talk, but when there was still hope of getting to their destination or a wad of cash at the end of the night, their mouths opened almost as wide as their legs.

  Two miles ahead was the exit where he would turn around and head for home. The smart thing to do would be to stun her now and have her incapacitated as he headed for home, but he liked the fight. He loved that moment when panic would set in when she realized what was going on. Of course he would see that when she woke up secure in his basement, but it wasn’t the same. Now the exit was a mile ahead and as his anticipation began to build, the phone in his right front pocket began to buzz. Normally he would ignore his phone but he knew it was the prepaid cell that was used for emergencies and the call could only be from a select group of people. He apologized to Ally and fished it out of his pocket.

  He was right and it was Randy on the other end of the line. He sat and listened to his tale about Carl and Boggs, Mayfield and Topper and the fact that he needed to lay low for awhile, at least until they had things under control. He was given an action item of his own. He needed to create at least one new identification. Randy also told Billy that he was going to dispose of his girl that night and if he currently had one, he should do the same. Since Randy always finished the trilogy he even suggested that this might be a good place to stop for good, but they both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Their compulsions ran deeper than fear and control and they knew that. Although Carl would love it if they stopped, they knew that Boggs would end any discussion of that. There were only three things that could ever stop them: getting caught, killed or too old to continue.

  Billy’s end of the conversation was calm and controlled so as to not alarm his traveling companion. Most of his answers were single word replies and he didn’t even use Randy’s name let alone say anything identifiable that could be recalled later. He thanked Randy for the call and put the phone back in his pocket knowing that his only course of action would be to take Ally where he said he would. He could use that phone call as an excuse to drop her on the side of the road and head back in the other direction, but there was no need to give her any cause for question in case anything came up later. If she saw a newspaper article or read something on the internet, he didn’t want her to be able to match up that story with being dropped on the side of the road. His “destination” was only a few hours west, and by the time he got back home, maybe they would have everything settled out and he could find himself another girl that night. He could at least hope anyway.

  He looked over to Ally and gave her his best country boy smile. “On to Beaumont.”

  Ally smiled back. “On to Beaumont indeed.” She would never realize how close she came to death and how that phone call saved her life.

  27

  The knife still lay in Mayfield’s lap, taunting him, when the footsteps returned. Based on what he heard before, he decided it was the same person. He realized their first session was just a prelude meant to soften up his mind and disorient him. Since he was a cop he thought maybe he laid it on a little thicker for him, but he knew that it wasn’t his first rodeo. As Mayfield began to mentally prepare for the next round, he felt a sharp pain in his right arm and again, he was out like a light.

  The next time he woke up, the shroud had been removed and he was able to see his surroundings. He had been right about a lot of things. He was definitely in a basement and the chair he was sitting in was oak. There was a window on his left and a door in the far corner on the right which presumably led upstairs. What intrigued him most, though, was the man sitting in the chair opposite him. He was both intrigued and terrified at the same time. He realized that his situation had just gone from perilous to dire as his hope began to flag.

  “Topper, Topper, wake up.” He tried to kick out with his foot and nudge him but the restraints were too tight. There was a little more give in them than before with the rope stretching out a bit, but not nearly enough for him to reach Topper. The knife also still rested on his lap, and as much as he wanted it off him, he also wanted to keep it right there.

  The knife was a tactical survival knife which was clearly for intimidation and it was working. The knife curved up at the point and the blade appeared to be razor sharp. On top, the blade was serrated from the point and ran about an inch and a half, and beyond that were blade vents that went all the way back to the hilt. With a black gripped handle, from tip to butt the knife was seven or eight inches easy and Mayfield couldn’t take his eyes off it.

  “Well that’s clearly overkill,” said Topper. Mayfield was startled but because his restraints were so tight, all he could manage was to look up from the knife.

  Topper was in an identical chair, clearly a matching set with the same appendages tied to the same areas as Mayfield. He had a bruise forming on the right side of his face but it wasn’t in the shape of a fist or some sort of weapon. Other than that he didn’t look too much the worse for wear.

  “What happened to you?” asked Mayfield.

  “I was hit by a car, and then tasered. Next memory I have is waking up here.”

  “Jesus, do you know who hit you?”

  “I saw a white van out of the corner of my eye as I was crossing the street and I assumed it was passing behind me but I guess at the last second it swerved and hit me. I have no idea who was driving the van.” As Topper said this he was shaking his head up and down to signify that he knew exactly who was driving the van.

  “What’s the plan? Do we have a plan yet?”

  “Are you alright? What’s that blood on your neck?”

  Mayfield tried to look down at his neck. “Shaving cut, no big deal.”

  “Okay, good. We don’t know if they’ve got eyes and ears in here so let’s be careful. I think we both know what our goal is, so let’s focus on that.” Mayfield shook his head, knowing exactly what he meant. “Do you know how many guys are here?”

  “Up until just now there’s been a bag over my head the whole time, but the three or four times somebody has come down here it’s been the same person. I can tell by the footsteps. So if there are any more than that I have no idea.”

  “Well,
I think we can safely say that it has to do with this case. It’s possible that the same person who’s been here was the one who hit me, but I doubt it, so we can assume there are at least two. I have some theories about these murders so I’m pretty sure there are more than two, but I can’t say for sure.”

  “Alright, well whoever this guy is, I can tell you his weapon of choice is fear.” Mayfield looked down to the knife and the back up to Topper. “Clearly. I reacted just once, just a whisper, and he seized on it. When I didn’t react further he relented.”

  “That’s good. Now you remember from that seminar last summer, we talked about a lot of different profiles, but there’s one in particular. Do you remember the one I’m talking about?”

  “I’m pretty sure; it was the last one you talked about right?”

  As Mayfield said this, the footsteps he heard previously began to descend the stairs again. “Perfect, then you know what to do.” Topper said this just as the door opened.

  28

  Taking one of the last bites of his apple pie, Shakes had seen Topper start to cross the street. He assumed Topper had a few more questions. As he crossed they made eye contact and Shakes gave him a nod of the head. He had a hard time comprehending what came next and when that van swerved to hit him, he was rooted to the spot and couldn’t move. When he saw Carl Magnusson slide back the door of the van, he sat there helpless. He knew he was in no state to help Topper and that his history of drug use had ravaged his body. He realized he would be more help to him after he was taken instead of trying to stop it.

  As soon as the van left the curb, Shakes jumped out of his seat and ran to the counter knowing that his phone didn’t have long distance. “Sally, I need to use your phone!”

  Sally had known Shakes for a few years and this was the first time she had seen that look or heard that tone of voice, so she decided to comply. “Sure Shakes, it’s right over there.”

  As Shakes ran over to the phone, he was fishing his wallet out of his pocket. He began to dump the contents onto the counter. There was about $30 in cash, his old PI license, a gym membership that expired six years ago and some various odds and ends that wouldn’t do him any good in his previous life or the one he was currently living. Shakes always believed there was nothing sadder than carrying an empty wallet. Other than the $30, the only other things worth holding onto were the photo of his mother and Topper’s business card, which he had just found.

  He had no idea who he needed to talk to and he was afraid that the number would ring the phone on his desk which he wouldn’t be answering. He dialed the number anyway and crossed his fingers. Lucky for Shakes, and Topper, his phone was forwarded to the main switchboard in the wake of his leave of absence and the phone was answered on the first ring.

  People in the diner began to stare as Shakes became more animated but after about five minutes of getting bounced around the FBI, he finally got a hold of somebody who might be able to help him.

  “Technical analyst Minnie Marlow, how may I help you?”

  “Minnie, I’m calling about Topper McMullen. Can you help me?”

  “I can try. Who am I speaking with?”

  “Shakes.”

  “Shakes. Topper’s friend in Dallas, Texas? That Shakes?”

  “Oh good, you know who I am.”

  “I’ve been trying to get a hold of Topper. His phone goes directly to voice mail. Do you know where he is?”

  “I don’t but you can’t get a hold of him because I saw him get kidnapped about,” Shakes looked up at the clock in diner, “eight minutes ago.”

  “What!” As Minnie said this, she jumped out of her chair so quickly that it fell over backwards. She ran to one of her computers and started to run a trace on his cell phone, both cell phones. She had also run a trace on the phone Shakes was calling from. “You’re calling from the Grease Pit there in Dallas?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Can you describe who took him, what kind of car, anything?”

  “I can do better than that. It was Carl Magnusson. He’s the ME at the Dallas PD. He was driving a white Ford panel van. Unfortunately, it happened so quickly I wasn’t able to get a license plate.”

  “I know who Carl is. You’re sure it was him?”

  “Absolutely. Topper was crossing the street from the park. I think he was coming back to talk to me and just before he stepped onto the sidewalk the van swerved and hit him. Carl got out of the van and tased him. He then put him in the van and drove off. Like I said, it’s only been about ten minutes. Can you trace his phone?”

  “Usually. They must have taken the sim card out of the phone because even if it’s turned off, I can turn the phone back on remotely and I can’t. I have no idea where he is.”

  “The Dallas PD is just around the corner, should I go over there?”

  “No, until we know what’s going on, I don’t want you talking to anyone but me. Can you stay where you are?”

  “Yes, I can stay here. Sally’s really nice, she’ll let me stay.”

  “Okay, good. Then stay there. I’m going to talk to some people here and see what I can do. I’ll call you back at this number as soon as I can. Shakes, thank you. We’re going to get Topper back.”

  29

  A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Unfortunately for Linnie, all the links in her chains were equally strong. The only link she had any hope of breaking was the one between Randy’s ears. She felt her own link weakening as she sat day after day staring at the girls across the wall from her. She was determined to not fill that last frame but also determined to not have any added after hers.

  Something was happening. She could never make out the muffled words through the closed door but she knew his phone was just beyond it. He had been on the phone a lot today. Sometimes he sound tense and sometimes he was flat out yelling. When he finally did come down, she was going to try and play therapist. She thought if she could get him talking maybe she could find a way free or at least a way to make it to tomorrow. Tomorrow she would worry about the next and take it day by day.

  She had heard Randy start down the stairs three times today only to stop and go back up. Each time preparing herself to justify her life, only to hear his footsteps recede. She knew he wasn’t playing games with her but that his mind was playing games with him. As time went by, she hoped that he was becoming increasingly more fragile so she would finally have the ammunition to break him. As he started down the stairs this time, his steps didn’t recede.

  He opened the door and looked disheveled. He always looked like he hovered between homeless and somebody who simply didn’t care, but today was more so. His hair was wild, almost like he had been tearing at it, and his five o’clock shadow was from five yesterday. His eyes were cracked and red, probably not from crying but from stressful rubbing. He definitely looked stressed. If she ever had a chance to get out of here, today would be the day. “Linnie, it’s almost time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “Time for you to go. I can’t keep you here much longer.” He crossed the basement in a shuffle, never really lifting his feet. He stepped into the room at the end of the basement and came back with a chair. He set it across from her and took a seat. His body posture showed defeat, his expression apathy and his words indifference. Linnie had to find the fight in Randy, the same fight she had in herself.

  “You don’t want me to go though, do you? I don’t want to go.”

  “Of course you want to go. I’m not stupid.”

  “Well, I wish you trusted me enough to not chain me up. We’ve been together a long time now Randy. I’ve come to depend on you.” She was fighting the urge not to choke on her words but with everything she’d endured over the past year she knew she could endure whatever it took to stay alive. She bit her lower lip and made eye contact, something she rarely did. She didn’t want to be obvious but she wanted to appear desirable and give the subtle clues a woman gives a man. She found it ironic that being a prostitute armed her with some
talents she could use.

  “We have been together for a long time. You know, none of those girls meant as much to me as you do.” He glanced over his shoulder as he said that, lingering on the photos behind him. Clearly each one of these girls held a special place for Randy. Whether or not Linnie held the most she wasn’t sure.

  “Then why Randy? Why can’t I stay? When you found me I had nothing. Each night I had to search to put a roof over my head. I had to do whatever I could to make money so I had food to eat. You changed all that for me. I don’t have to worry about those things anymore. I’m grateful to you, Randy.”

  “Well … you’re welcome. I guess your life is better than it was, that’s true, but I have obligations, I have plans to follow.” Randy was clearly flustered. No girl had ever talked to him like that, definitely not any of the ones he’d had down in the basement. Linnie remembered a saying which used to be a favorite of her father’s, if you can’t dazzle them will brilliance, baffle them with bullshit. She hoped she was using a little of both.

  “Don’t you run your own life Randy?”

  He jumped from his chair, sending it skittering backwards. “I run my own life! I’m not a child that has to be told what to do!” He stepped towards Linnie then stopped. Spittle flying from the corner of his mouth, some of it landing on Linnie’s cheek. Although terrified, she calmly wiped it off knowing she found his pressure point. He was clearly in his partners’ shadows and he didn’t like being told what to do.

  “Randy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. It’s just, I want to stay and you want me to stay.” He was still standing over her. She was sitting on the floor with her hands in her lap. Staring up at him, almost as in prayer. Hoping that he could see something in her eyes that wasn’t there.