Authors: Rick Mofina
62
New York City
“Y
es, I messaged you anonymously when you were on the show,” Erich told Kate as they stood in line for a booth.
“Why so cryptic? You scared me.”
“I had to get your attention and I had to be careful.”
“What do I need to see, Erich?”
“Wait till we sit down.”
They had walked three blocks east to the Wyoming Diner, a classic eatery wrapped in battered chrome-and-blue trim. TVs were suspended at each end of the dining room, where every booth and stool was taken. The midmorning breakfast crowd was still thick with commuters from Penn Station. Ten minutes passed before a spot opened up. Erich ordered whole wheat toast and tomato juice, Kate got a bagel and water.
She welcomed the din of the busy diner. It made it hard to hear and insured a measure of privacy as Erich leaned to Kate.
“Are you familiar with shock sites?”
“That’s where freaks and people with fetishes post gross stuff online.”
“The content is obscene, vulgar and so graphic it’s often illegal.”
“There’re some notorious ones,” Kate said.
Two women at a booth nearby were looking at them and talking. They were too far away to hear through the noise but seemed interested in Kate.
“Some of these sites have their own subcultures,” Erich said. “And in some cases the sites are gateways to others that are far worse.”
“What’re you getting at?”
“I found something alarming on one of them.”
As Erich reached for his phone, a woman materialized at their table. She looked to be in her midfifties.
“Excuse me,” she said to Kate, who, as she turned to the woman, accidentally knocked her bag from her seat to the floor.
“I’ll get that for you,” Erich leaned over and reached under the table to retrieve Kate’s bag.
“Yes?” Kate said to the woman.
“My friend couldn’t help but notice—” the woman nodded to one of the TVs “—but weren’t you just on the
Today
show? You’re looking for your long-lost sister who’s caught up in the big serial killer case?”
“Yes.”
“We just want you to know that we’re praying for you and your sister.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“Would you mind—” the woman waved over her friend “—if we got our picture taken with you?”
“I don’t think it would be appropria—”
“Please, it’ll just be a sec, here.” She passed her phone to Erich. “I’m sure this nice young man would take it for us?”
The two women got up close to Kate and Erich took the picture. The women thanked them and left. When Kate and Erich were alone again, Erich brought out his phone.
“So what is it?” Kate asked. “What did you find?”
“There’s a site, hidden under layers of others, that purports to host videos of actual amputations, decapitations, cruelties of anything you can imagine.”
Kate said nothing.
“Lately there’s been a lot of hype about a series of postings called ‘Scenes from the Kill Jar.’ A kill jar is used in the collection of insects, like butterflies—”
“Butterflies?”
“Kate, it looks like Zurrn has been posting video recordings of some of his murders and tortures of women.”
Their food arrived. Kate glanced at Erich’s glass, nearly glowing red with tomato juice.
“Kate, you asked me to help you. I know these are some of the most graphic images you could ever view, but do you want to see them? I have about six minutes. It’s hard to tell, but I think he made your sister watch his work.”
Kate hesitated as her mind reeled. As a journalist she’d seen horrible things. And as a journalist it was her job to gather and see all the facts for her work. As Vanessa’s sister, Kate accepted that if she was to understand what she’d endured, looking at the video was something she must do.
I’m sure Zurrn never gave her the chance to look away.
Kate stared at Erich’s phone and the earphones he held out.
“Okay.”
Erich cued up the video, set the volume and passed his phone to Kate. The clarity, sharpness and sound were extremely high quality. Tears filled her eyes as she realized what she was seeing, hearing and feeling. By the time it ended she was drained and overwhelmed with violation and outrage.
“Pretty bad,” Erich said.
Kate swallowed and brushed at her tears before pushing her food aside.
“I can make you a copy to have for your research.”
Kate nodded.
“Kate, I know this is disturbing but it’s a good thing. It’s a key lead. I’ve arranged for copies and information to be sent to every police agency on the task force looking for Zurrn. You can bet the FBI is searching for the trail to Zurrn. And there are protocols I can run to try to track Zurrn down. It brings us a step closer to him.”
“It also brings my sister closer to death.”
63
Somewhere in the United States
V
anessa rocked gently in and out of consciousness, lost in a black chasm of dull, lethargic awareness.
She was on the floor of a moving vehicle, feeling the drone of its wheels, the rhythmic sway of its suspension. She was under a tarp.
No longer in the box—the casket.
I’m groggy. Carl drugged me. He drugs me whenever he’s transferring me—or preparing something bad—so I can’t resist.
Where are we? What’s he doing?
The vehicle jerked, triggering a sudden heavy clank of metal. Like tools and equipment.
Oh, God, this is it!
Vanessa’s mind swirled with fear and emotion. She had no sense of direction, no sense of time. How many days has it been since she’d escaped and was recaptured? Maybe she was sleeping, dreaming?
Why did he take me out of the casket? Where’s the casket?
Fear swelled inside her until she forced herself to become calm, to relax, to find her favorite memories and hang on to them.
I’m in a park on a swing with my big sister. Mom and Dad are pushing us and my tummy tickles like I’m flying—it feels so good I scream.
The vehicle slowed to a crawl.
The road under the wheels had become soft, silent, like well-kept grass.
Where are we?
Calm washed over her in waves—the drugs—she wanted to sleep.
No, don’t sleep. Be aware. Try to escape.
But her head was so heavy.
They stopped.
The transmission shifted, the motor switched off.
A slight sway and a door opened, then air rushed in as other doors were opened. Tools knocked together.
He’s moving things, equipment, grunting as he lifts things, then humming as he works nearby.
In the quiet she heard crickets and nothing else.
“Okay,” Carl said. “I think we’re ready.”
A moment later the tarp was pulled away and Carl’s hands slipped under her as he lifted her, and in an instant she saw what awaited her. A steel casket, its lid yawning, was positioned atop an open grave on a casket-lowering device. As Carl carried her to it, her screams were stifled by tape he’d put around her mouth. She struggled in vain as he placed her in the coffin and secured her inside with chains. He taped her wrists, fastened clips to her fingers and something to her body.
“Listen to me—shh-shh—listen. I’m going to remove the tape from your mouth so you can breathe easier, okay? No more noise or the tape goes back. Nod if you agree.”
She nodded. He removed the tape and she drank in fresh air.
“Please, Carl,” she whispered. “Don’t do this, please!”
“Shh-shh. I’ve customized this. I’ve installed an oxygen tank with a meter, a ventilator to keep your carbon dioxide level low. You’ll have a light and instructions. Once I set things in motion, you’ll have a little more than four hours, if you don’t struggle and use up oxygen quickly. Do you understand?”
No, she didn’t understand. How could she understand his cruelty?
“Do you understand?”
She gave him a weak, terrified nod.
“Good. I’m sorry but it’s all for the best. You really were my favorite.” He looked at her, absorbing her. “I chose this specific spot because of its history. In a few hours you and I will be the most famous people on earth. You’ll be immortalized. People will realize who I really am and they will revere me.”
Carl shut the lid and darkness swallowed Vanessa.
She felt the scrape of the chains as he locked them. She heard him turn the crank handle, release the brake, then the gears began clicking on the device as the casket descended slowly into the grave.
Several moments later it ceased with a soft thud.
Then came the sound of dirt raining on the lid. It was steady before it faded, grew muffled, then died away.
64
New York City
I
s my sister dead?
The question hammered at Kate as she showered.
It had been a week since Minneapolis and nothing on Vanessa’s location had surfaced. No leads on where she was, nothing but the anguish of knowing that for a burning moment she had been alive and free to save a young girl before Zurrn clawed her back into hell.
After Kate got dressed she got Grace off to school. Nancy, who’d been a saint through all of this, would pick her up and take her to a sleepover at her friend Hayley’s because Kate planned to work late.
On the subway, Kate was haunted by the images from the shock site videos. Brennan had assured her that the FBI and other police agencies on the task force were going all out trying to track them, but so far they had nothing.
At the office she got coffee, went to her desk and started working. It wasn’t long before Reeka was standing next to her, nose in her phone, thumbs blurring as she worked on the daily news sked.
“What’ve you got for today?”
“Nothing concrete, following up on a few things.”
“We need news on the story, Kate.”
“I know.”
“We’ve had absolutely nothing in the past few days. Subscribers are getting weary of recaps and situationals. We need to break something.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
Nearby, conversations trailed off and heads turned to them.
“No one on this planet wants that more than me, Reeka!”
A long moment of silence passed before Chuck joined Reeka at Kate’s desk.
“Is everything all right here?”
Chuck’s attention went from Kate to Reeka and back again.
Kate stared at her monitor, said nothing.
“Kate,” Chuck said, “I know these past few days have been hell for you. I’ve got every bureau looking into Vanessa’s case. You know that.”
Kate nodded.
“And if you need time off, you’ve got it. You know that, too.”
Kate covered her face with her hands to salvage her composure.
“I will see this through,” she said. “I’ll keep working.”
Chuck let a few seconds pass to melt the tension.
“All right,” he said. “It’s obvious you’ll give us a story when you have one.” Then he looked at Reeka as he said, “I don’t think we need to ask you for it.”
* * *
Kate spent the rest of the morning going through her messages. She was still getting a steady stream from her
Today
show appearance, things like:
We’re praying for you and your sister.
Such a tragic story. God bless you.
My brother’s got a hunting dog who could find your sister.
Aliens took your sister.
I’m psychic and your sister’s a spirit now.
Saw you on TV; you’re clearly a bitch who is doing this to make a name for yourself.
Kate kept working, contacting people she’d talked to in Rampart, in Chicago, in Minnesota, in Denver and Alberta. She called her sources with missing persons agencies and she searched databases. When her stomach rumbled, she got a sandwich at the deli downstairs and ate at her desk.
Nothing was emerging.
Commentators on the network news shows speculated that Zurrn had committed a murder-suicide and that it was only a matter of time before he was found. Others believed Zurrn would succumb to being the most wanted fugitive in the country and make a mistake. There were those who were convinced Zurrn would attempt to grab the spotlight in some disturbing fashion.
Despite the national media attention, despite all the tips to the task force, nothing new had surfaced, at least nothing that the investigators were willing to discuss. Kate had a vague feeling that something was happening but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t nail it down.
Nobody was talking.
By the time she lifted her head from her desk it was early evening and most of the day-side staff had gone. The smaller night crew was working quietly. As darkness fell, Kate went to the windows and studied the lights of Midtown Manhattan.
Exhausted, frustrated and fearful, Kate felt a lump rising in her throat with a mounting sense of defeat. She had to accept that Zurrn was going to kill Vanessa, if he hadn’t done it already.
That was how this was going to end. Kate would never see her sister.
I had her and she slipped away from me again.
She ached to see Vanessa, to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her how much she loved her and that everything would be okay. They probably wouldn’t even recognize each other, but that wouldn’t matter because they’d know the bond that had survived.
Somewhere in the skyline’s glimmering lights Kate found hope.
What am I doing? I can’t give up. There’s no proof of anything. After all she’s been through Vanessa hasn’t given up! I’ve got to keep fighting to find her!
Kate returned to her desk, intending to call Brennan and push him hard for information.
As she reached for her phone it rang.
The number was blocked.
“Newslead, Kate Page.”
Kate heard nothing.
“Hello,” she said, “this is Kate Page at Newslead.”
“I saw you on TV.”
The caller’s voice was robotic, monotone as if coming from a voice changer or electronic synthesizer.
Her thoughts raced.
Was this a joke? Was this Erich being cryptic again?
“Who is this?”
“Are you at a computer? Check your email and the link I’ve sent you.”
Wedging the phone to her ear with her shoulder, Kate typed quickly, moved her mouse, found a new email and froze upon reading the subject line:
Final Scene from The Kill Jar.
“Did you find it? Open the link.”
Holding her breath, Kate clicked on the link. It went to a live feed of a woman, her eyes wide with terror.
“Say goodbye to your sister. I put her in her grave so you and the world can watch her die.”