Relentless (Elisabeth Reinhardt Book 1) (7 page)

The two lawmen sat elbows on the table facing each other. They were tough and smart and sizing each other up. The clatter of plates and the smell of hamburgers and fries filled the space around them. They could hear orders being shouted back and forth across the
pass-through between the kitchen and the dining area. Waitresses in pink uniforms with white aprons hustled about with trays of food and drinks. On the counter displays of homemade cakes and pies sat on raised plates with domed lids. Gus’s Diner was one of the town’s most popular spots for homemade desserts. Also featured was the usual homey fare, eggs and bacon for breakfast, hamburgers and fries for lunch and the fried chicken special for dinner. Food wasn’t much on their minds, as they drank their coffee and watched each other.

Calling in the FBI had been a big step for Chester, but he knew this was bigger than the Putnam County Police Department. Once
he recognized these killings spanned a multi-state area and the Task Force pooled their information, he knew it was a crime for the FBI.

“They got
ta have roots around here somewhere,” Chester was saying. “Two out of five is higher than average, don’t ya think? The first and most recent victims were from around here. That can’t be a coincidence. These guys are locals, I’d say.”

Lou nodded thoughtfully.
Listening was one of his best qualities. He listened and absorbed while those around him chattered away. Chester continued, “How about if my department focuses on just this area, you know Putnam County area.” He wanted to talk privately with the lead FBI guy, this Lou Fairmont. He seemed like a nice enough guy; a no bullshit kind of lawman. Chester could get with that. He watched Lou check his cell phone, frowning as he sped through messages. Lou Fairmont had worked for the FBI his whole career and had been with the BAU for the last fifteen years. Originally from rural Ohio, he had grown up in a ‘Mainline Protestant’ family for whom religion was pivotal. Lou’s father had two main interests: Farming and church-going. Both required a strict schedule with no deviation. Those were the rules. You got up at 5AM and started your farm chores; you went to prayer meetings every Wednesday and Friday night and Sunday was G-d’s day when you went to church from morning to evening. Louis Bedford Fairmont was the middle child of 9 boys and 2 girls born to a kind but tired mother who spent her life raising her children and cooking or sewing for her family. Very little emotion was tolerated in the Fairmont home. Every blessing or tragedy was G-d’s will and accepted without question, joy or undue grief. Violence was a sin and any expression of anger was forbidden. Other kinds of emotional expression were also inhibited. Joy was restrained. Happiness was for little children. Pride was sinful. Affection was rarely shown and never in public. Even hand holding was considered too intimate unless it was necessary to keep track of a child. Touching occurred only when necessary to care for someone who was young, old, ill or infirm. Children were taught to remain quiet and adults spoke rarely and only when practical matters needed to be addressed. Dancing was prohibited; music curtailed unless it was church music and laughter was frowned upon. The family atmosphere was polite but repressed and very task-focused. Children were commended for completing farm tasks, learning bible and getting good grades in school. Obedience, chastity and prayer were the three hallmarks of the Fairmont family.

Lou lived with his family until at
age 28 the FBI transferred him to Quantico. There he met and married his wife of 30 years. She too worked for the FBI until her car accident three years before. Lou and his wife, Gretchen had one child, a daughter now married and living in Rockville. He was looking forward to his upcoming retirement so he could spend more time with his family, especially his two young grandsons. As he put his phone away content to see that Gretchen’s physical therapy appointment had gone well, he looked across at Chester who seemed ready to say something. Chester had wanted to meet privately with Lou so he could speak more freely. He had an idea that he didn’t want to bring up during the Task Force meeting, in case there was a disagreement. He didn’t want open disagreements, at least not at this stage of the game. He wanted to respect protocol, but Chester Rugger felt personally responsible for this case. It seemed like these were ‘his’ killers, like this had started in his backyard; the most recently discovered victim had lived here until very recently. That was part of his problem in calling in the FBI. He knew that the assignments made during the Task Force meeting had not included the Putnam County Police force. Besides hosting this thing, they had no specific role assigned. He liked the idea of three topic-based teams, but because his department was on the forefront of this investigation he thought there should be a different role for them, a fourth category. He presented some of these thoughts to Lou now.

The waitress came to refill their cups and tell them their
food would be out soon. “Thanks, Star,” Chester said as he waited for Lou to respond to his idea. “It sounds right that your department focus on the local angel,” Lou answered, “How you going to go about it?”

“Thought
we’d look for guys running in pairs or small groups with a history of petty burglaries and minor sex crimes, you know like grabbing girls in stores, stuff like that. See who was arrested at the same time or for the same crimes. I figure we go back 15 to 20 years and see if we can identify them.”

“I’d say so,” Lou nodded, “
these killers are pretty organized and they aren’t ‘crazy’ in the traditional sense, so there’s not likely to be a mental health angle on them. See if you can look at foster care and financial aid records. They were probably underachievers in school and have a history in the court and prison systems. If they were raised around these parts by now they may be estranged from their families, but they do come back to this area periodically so at least one of them has ties with someone living around here. They’ve been together for a number of years so they have strong bonds with each other, probably tracing back to their adolescence. I’d look for two more likely three males from this area; who have a history together, served time together and have been arrested for the same crimes more than once.”

The conversation stopped as their hamburgers arrived with fries piled so high they toppled off the plates. The waitress took a bottle of ketchup out of her pocket
, plunked it on the table and asked if they wanted anything else. Lou asked for a Coke and Star left to get it. “What do you think the radius should be?” Chester asked.

“I’d take it out say 20 miles beyond the county line,” Lou said, “more than that and you’re losing the local jurisdiction angle. Work with the beat cops who know folks living around here. See if you can get ahold of school records
, school pictures, and yearbooks too, sometimes they can be very revealing. I’d guess they’ve been operating as a gang since they were teens. Started with lesser crimes and built up to killing. It’s likely they dropped out of school but when they were younger they’d have been in classes with kids who did graduate. See if you can find some people who graduated around the time they would have, and if they remember who the bad-ass kids were back when they were in the 6
th
or 7
th
grade. One of these guys would have stood out even back then. One of them is in charge. He’s clever and the most violent. The others stay with him because they are dependent on him and no doubt afraid of him. Pay attention to reports that say one guy was really, really scary, ‘
Nightmare on Elm Street’
scary.”

Chester
nodded and added, “We’ll work up the personal angle, check with churches too. Sometimes families talk to their ministers about their kids or these kids get in trouble and their folks drag them to church”

“Right,” Lou agreed,
“Cause the local angle here goes beyond what law enforcement agencies would have and these guys keep coming back here for some reason and we need to find out what that is. There’s some specific connection with this place, I can feel it.” Then he added, “There
is
something odd about all this though. The victim profile is very specific. It’s specific to the profile of
one
serial killer. It is not the profile of a group of killers and yet there
is
a group. You’re not going to get several people all of whom want the exact same type of thing. This is a personal victim profile. The gang leader is seeking something and the others are following his instructions. This is one person’s agenda.”

“Well,” Chester added, “
We have to ask what the other group members are getting out of it. It’s a symbiotic relationship and has been for years. They have to be getting something out of it to stay this long. What’s stopping them from just leaving, going off on their own?”

“
Good question,” Lou nodded, “What we have here is a sexual sadist serial killer, organized and focused on his victims, who’s got some ‘hangers on’ who carry out his orders. They’re not necessarily invested in his killing agenda. They may even be repulsed by it but for some reason they don’t leave. The transporting issues and crime scenes are complicated enough that it would take more than one person to carry out these crimes.”

“Do you think they’re related? Like brothers or cousins?” Chester asked.

“Maybe,” Lou responded, “but not necessarily. I think they met sometime during their teen years. If we can figure out what binds them together that would help. These murders may look random, but they aren’t. There is a specific pattern being replicated. It’s most likely the killer knew someone like his victims and is fixated on that person. This original person, call her the
target victim
is probably from around this area. If we can figure out
who
he’s really after that would really narrow things down for us.”

As t
hey tossed ideas back and forth a sense of collaboration grew, Lou, the experienced FBI guy and Chester, the dedicated local police chief. Under usual circumstances there would be competition and territoriality. Because they shared a sense of urgency, these issues evaporated. They knew lives were at stake. This was an unstable violent gang and instability led to behavioral escalation, anyone who got in their way would fall prey to their violence. People would be shot in robberies or shot trying to catch them, they would shoot anyone who got in their way. A gunfight was about to ignite.

They were just starting in on their third 6-pack and feeling no pain! The campfire had died down to flickering ashes, two empty hot dog packs lay crumpled in the dirt along with empty mustard packets and a plastic bag from 12 hot dog rolls. Sprawled out and leaning against their back packs, feet pointed toward the fire, they yawned, burped and laughed about their latest adventures. “Did you see the look on his face?” one of them asked, “He about shit his pants when he saw my Sig,” another laughed.

“Yeah,” added another mimicking the man’s accent,
“Don’t shoot me, please. I have a wife and children.”

“
Big fucking deal,” another joked, “like I give a shit, fucking Spic!”

“
That was a big haul,” one of them said, “What did we get on that job, about $700?”

“Yea, about that,” said another.

They were unshaven and grungy wearing plaid shirts, jeans and hunting jackets. Their clothing was torn, dirty and ragged. One of the men was heavy set with wavy brown hair down to his shoulders; his buddies called him ‘Custer,’ but his given name was Arnold. Now 36, Arnold Richard Custer was the youngest of 5 boys born to Mary Francis Winston Custer and Richard Octavio Custer both of Hurricane, West Virginia. Richard Octavio was killed in a hit and run accident when ‘Custer’ was 3 years old and his mother worked two jobs just to keep food on the table. When home, she was too exhausted and overwhelmed to deal with her unruly sons, so the boys developed their own pecking order. As the youngest boy in the family, Custer spent a lot of time hiding from his violent brothers. He was a poor student whom teachers termed ‘dull-witted,’ although he did manage to learn some basic reading and math skills. By 11, Custer was declared ‘a child in need of supervision’ after he ran away from home five times and was expelled from school for truancy. By age 12, he was arrested for vandalism and weapons possession and sent to the Juvenile Detention Center where he bunked with a kid nicknamed ‘Slim’.

True to his nickname, ‘Slim’ was a bony fellow with long thin legs. At 3
7, he was nearly bald except for a fringe of limp blonde hair worn in a scrawny ponytail. Intricate patterns depicting cobras and black widow spiders dominated his arms and upper torso. They wound their way up his neck and around his ears. Grotesque piercings protruded from his ears and eyebrows. Slim, who was christened Vincent Ray Anastan, was the only child born to Georgia Sue Anastan of Hurricane, West Virginia. His birth certificate lists father as ‘unknown.’ Georgia Sue died of a drug overdose at the age of 19, leaving her 2 month old son to become a ward of the state. The child’s adjustment to foster care was poor and his school performance poorer. By age 9, he started shoplifting. He became addicted to cocaine by the age of 12. ‘Slim’ loved coke. He used all kinds of drugs but pot and coke were his favorites. As long as he had his drugs he was fine. When he didn’t things got real rough for ‘Slim.’ Coke was rampant in the Juvenile Detention Center where he was incarcerated after his third arrest for drunk and disorderly, destruction of property and theft. It was there that he formed a bond with Jake Gennett.

Jake William Gennett age 3
8 was odd-looking with a long, thin face, a hateful sneer and straight black hair. A manipulative, self-centered boy, he never saw a rule he didn’t want to break. Jake was cruel and ruthless, qualities which reinforced his leadership role since his early teen years. He was sent to the Juvenile Detention Center for numerous crimes including assault, auto theft and resisting arrest. That’s when the little gang of three was formed.

After release from the detention center, the misfit boys clung together, hanging out after school and getting into trouble. They stole food from stores, broke into homes and harassed young girls. With no strong attachments to, or supervision by, any adults, the boys roamed free. They
did what they wanted; they took what they wanted, soon learning that lawlessness had its own rewards. By their early 20’s, they’d been arrested and convicted several times for crimes of escalating severity, but they were never caught or convicted for the heinous crimes which they had been committing and getting away with for years. When arrested for their lesser crimes, Jake and his buddies breathed a sigh of relief and were ready to serve their time in jail because they knew that again, they had literally gotten away with murder. They had managed to stay ‘under the radar’, leaving no witnesses or traceable evidence. What did they care if they spent some time in the joint? It wasn’t as if they’d never get out. What they wanted was to be sentenced to the same facility. That way they could keep in touch with each other. Or perhaps keep an eye on each other.

As leader, Jake was always planning their next ‘job.’ He fancied himself a criminal master-mind, planning and plotting every detail of their activities. They all agreed that was why they had never gotten caught, because Jake was such a good planner. The gang looked up to Jake, they needed him. He provided them with food and money and a sense of direction. More than that, their gang membership
molded their identities. To themselves and to each other they were who the gang defined them to be. Neither Custer nor Slim ever considered doing anything without Jake. As to the future, well really they never thought much beyond a few days. Custer was long estranged from his family and Slim didn’t have a family. Jake, however, stayed in touch with his Aunt Hattie and Uncle Earl, who he called his ‘foster parents’. He made sure that he visited every time they were in the area. When they visited, he helped the old man with chores, gave them money and always brought Aunt Hattie little
souvenirs
, little keepsakes, like necklaces and bracelets. He didn’t buy her these things though; they were special reminders of his ‘adventures,’ as he called them. He wanted to hang onto these
souvenirs
so he could look at them again, but he was afraid to carry them around with him on his travels, afraid he’d lose them or get caught with them, so he gave them to Aunt Hattie - his personal safe deposit box.

“
Now, these are for you Aunt Hattie,” he would remind her. “You aren’t never to let no one see them, Okay? People might get jealous and try to take them from you, so don’t never show them to no one, understand? These trinkets are just between you and me. Our little secret, Okay?” he’d repeat. Aunt Hattie always agreed. It seemed a little strange, but he gave them to her after all and if he didn’t want no one else to see them, well she supposed she needed to respect that. She thought ‘it was private-like.’ She had to admit she was delighted with the fabric jewelry case he bought for her. It was real pretty with gold and purple flowers on it. She didn’t have anything like it. When he told her she was to keep all the precious things he gave her inside of it, of course she agreed. It was fine with her. She was flattered that he thought of her. She did wonder, though, about the different things he brought her. They all seemed like young woman’s jewelry, not at all her style. And some of the pieces looked scratched and worn. But she wouldn’t worry about all that. They were very pretty and he was sweet to bring her these things. He didn’t have to bring her presents, after all. It was sweet of him, and besides, who was she to criticize or complain. Her husband Earl never bought her pretty things like these. Neither did her kids. No she had been taught to be a grateful person and grateful she was. That’s how she’d been raised after all. Her parents had not been very nice to her but they taught her to be grateful for what she was given. Beat it into her they did.  Most of all they taught her never to question anyone in authority. That really meant
them
but after she married Earl, well he seemed to think the same way. So she kept her mouth shut and kept her thoughts to herself. Whenever Jake gave her something she’d just thank him and put it away with all the other things in that pretty box he gave her.

He must have a pretty good job, she thought, to be able to buy her these things
. He told her he was a venture capitalist, whatever that was. He said he traveled all over creating business opportunities. She didn’t understand how that worked exactly. He did seem happy enough and this generation, well who knew about them anyway. Times were so different from when she and Earl were young. Jake is such a sweet young man. Hattie had always shared a special relationship with him. She really loved him and thought of their relationship almost in romantic terms. Of course she would never admit this to herself, though from time to time she wondered what would have happened if they had been the same age and she had met him when they were both teenagers. She wondered if she hadn’t married Earl and how different life might have been, what if she had a husband like Jake, a venture capitalist who brought her lovely gifts.

On rare occasions, she thought about her daughter Reggie Lee and wondered wh
at happened to her. She thought about the things Reggie Lee had said Jake was doing to her. She didn’t know where that girl came up with such stuff. To lie about her cousin like that, well it was disgusting. And Jake, well he was so forgiving, he always asked after Reggie Lee and the other children. Thought of them as his brothers and sisters, he said. He’d remember who was married to whom, where they were living and what they were doing. He even remembered their children’s names. She always gave him little updates: Clint and his family were living up around Elkins, she told him, and Dale and his family were living around Westin, not too far from his brother. It was so good, the brothers and their families could get together. They had always been so close. The girls Betty Jo and Patty Sue, they lived up in Hurricane with their husbands, she was glad she got to see them every week or so when they got together and did some baking. They were all so busy.

Jake always asked if she’d had heard from Reggie Lee every time he came by. Imagine
him remembering her after all these years. “Have you heard from ‘Halo’ lately?” he’d ask. That was his nickname for Reggie Lee, ‘cause her soft yellow curls looked like an angel’s halo the way they shone in the sun and all. Jake always liked to make up nicknames for people and that was what he called Reggie Lee. We all started to call her that, she recalled. It always upset Hattie a little to think about her... little ‘Halo.’ Reggie was long gone and though they hadn’t been real close, she wondered what had happened to her and why she’d never come home again. She remembered the day that lady from the courthouse came here with papers. The lady had explained that the papers had to do with Reggie being an adult. She thought it was nonsense, after all she was only 14, but, if the court lady said she should sign those papers, well, she supposed that she should sign them. She never told anyone about the visit that day. Not her husband and not her daughters, not anyone, because after the lady left, Hattie began to worry about those papers and what they meant. She worried that Earl would beat her silly if he knew what she’d done - signing official court papers saying Reggie Lee was an adult. He thought his kids should stay at home till they got married and, even then, that they should build a house and live on the farm. It wasn’t that he was close to Reggie Lee exactly, but she was his and she belonged here. That’s just the way Earl thought. Hattie thought the bigger reason he’d be mad was because she didn’t ask him first, but did what an outsider asked her to do. She wasn’t sure what would make him madder. Letting their girl go, not asking him or listening to an outsider. Earl hated outsiders. Hattie was so scared about those court papers after the court lady left she had folded them up into a tiny square and taped them under the dresser drawer where she kept her lady things. She figured Earl would never find them under there.

Sighing she remembered Reggie Lee as a little girl.
She couldn’t figure what had happened to her. All those times she came to her and cried about how Jake was bothering her, touching her in places he shouldn’t, could that have been why she left? Oh, probably not. She was a headstrong child, different than the rest of the family. Real smart she was and how she loved the outdoors. Maybe she was living in a cabin in the woods somewhere. She could have built a cabin right here if she wanted to live in a cabin, Hattie reasoned. She just couldn’t understand how a child could leave home like that and never come back. They’d been good to her, hadn’t they? Fed her and got her things. It was a
puzzlement
her running off like that and her not even out of high school! Always talking about school too putting on airs and getting all them good grades. Best grades in the family, for all the difference it made. Well just goes to show you. She mustn’t have wanted to learn after all, her dropping out of school, and all.

No, she told Jake, when he asked, she
ain’t heard nothing from Reggie Lee and, no, she had no idea where she’d gotten to. She didn’t think she was dead though. Then she re-told the usual story, the same one that she told him every time he asked. Old Miss Whitten who owned ‘Cheryl’s Hair Do’ said she’d heard from Miss Grace, whose daughter lived near Watauga North Carolina, that she saw a girl looked just like Reggie Lee when she was shopping in Asheville. The girl was the spittin’ image of Reggie Lee, Miss Grace’s daughter had said. So, Hattie decided that Reggie Lee had a secret boyfriend, someone with a car or something, and they had run off together. Yes that was probably it, she thought. Reggie Lee had run off and got herself married. What else could have happened to her? Of course that had been years ago and there had not been word of another sighting since then. Hattie repeated this whole story to Jake again, like she did every time he asked. That’s all she knew, she said with a shrug.