The Survivors Club (34 page)

CHAPTER 37

Maureen

“T
HIS IS
M
AUREEN
H
AVERILL, REPORTING LIVE FROM THE
Adult Correctional Institutions, Cranston. Today, startling new revelations in the College Hill Rapist case, which gained fresh intensity last night with the brutal murder of Brown College student Sylvia Blaire. Was twenty-eight-year-old Eddie Como, tragically shot down Monday at the Licht Judicial Complex, the real College Hill Rapist, as he was charged? Or was Como merely another victim in a sadistic game? I am here with ACI inmate David Price, a convicted murderer, who claims to know the real identity of the College Hill Rapist but tells us that state police have repeatedly ignored his offers of assistance. Mr. Price, what can you tell us about the attack on Sylvia Blaire?”

“Good afternoon, Maureen. May I call you Maureen?” He kept his voice friendly, then gave her his most neighborly smile.

“If you’d like. Now, Mr. Price—”

“Please, call me David.”

“David, you claim to have information on a very serious case. How is it that you know the College Hill Rapist?”

“Well, we’re kind of like pen pals.”

“Pen pals?”

“Yes. See, the man, the real rapist, he’s been sending me letters.”

“Letters? As in more than one?”

“That is correct.”

“Interesting. How many letters have you received from the man alleging to be the College Hill Rapist, David?”

“I’d say six or seven.”

“And when did you get the first letter?”

“Over a year ago, shortly after I was sentenced to Max. Of course, in the beginning I didn’t take them very seriously. I mean, why would some rapist write to me? It wasn’t until the past few days I figured out the man might be legitimate.”

“Can I see these letters, David? Do you have them? Can you show them to our viewers?”

“Well, I do have them, Maureen . . .”

“Yes?”

“Well, they’re evidence, aren’t they, Maureen? Letters from a rapist. I don’t think we should be handling something like that. I should just keep them safe for the state police. This is an important investigation. I don’t want to do anything that might mess it up.” He smiled at her again.

She frowned. “But you said the state police aren’t taking your claims seriously, isn’t that right, David?”

“The state police don’t like me very much.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, the head of the current investigation, Sergeant Griffin, used to be my next-door neighbor. Sergeant Griffin never liked me much. He was always working, you know—those state police detectives have very important jobs. But that meant his wife was home alone a lot. We became good friends, and I think . . . well, I think Sergeant Griffin might have been threatened by that. Not that he had any reason to be! His wife was a lovely lady, very nice. I don’t have any family, and she was very sweet to keep me company. She was really a wonderful, beautiful, sexy lady.”

“David, isn’t it true that Sergeant Griffin was the arresting officer in your murder case?”

“Well, yeah. And that makes him mad, too. I mean, it took him nearly a year to catch me, Maureen, and I lived right next door. When you’re a state police detective, I think that’s a little embarrassing.”

“This was the infamous Candy Man case, was it not?”

“I heard that’s what they called me.”

“You were found guilty of murdering ten children, isn’t that correct, David?” She regarded him sternly. “The bodies of the children were found buried in your basement, and you are now serving ten consecutive life sentences with no hope of parole. Isn’t that correct?”

David Price humbly bowed his head. Sitting once more in the private interview room of ACI’s rear hall, he practiced looking contrite. “It shames me to say it, Maureen, but you are correct. I’ve done some bad things in my time. On the other hand, I think that’s why the College Hill Rapist latched on to me. He seems to regard me as some kind of hero.”

“The College Hill Rapist is
impressed
by you?” She looked dubious, maybe it was disgusted.

“I believe so, Maureen. He said that in the first letter. He was doing something he thought only I would understand.”

“He told you about the rapes?”

“In the most recent letter. He provided very graphic detail, Maureen, including things only the real rapist could know. Which is what I’ve been trying to tell the police.”

“Can you give us an example, David? What is something only the ‘real rapist’ would know?”

David switched from looking contrite to looking troubled. “I don’t know, Maureen . . . It’s an official investigation. Maybe I should keep quiet. Sometimes the police don’t like the public to know everything. It compromises the investigation. I wouldn’t want to do anything like that . . .”

Maureen took the bait. “Authenticity, David,” she responded instantly. “If you give us just one detail, one little thing that only the
real
College Hill Rapist would know, that would prove the authenticity of your letters. And that would be a huge break in the investigation. People would be very proud of you.”

“You think?”

“One little detail, David. Just one little detail.”

“Well, I can think of one. But, it’s kind of graphic . . .”

Maureen leaned closer with the mike. “This is a serious crime, David. The women of Providence are scared. We need to hear what you know.”

“Well, okay. He, um, well, he uses douches on the victims. That’s a detail. He’s used it on all of them, when he was done. The police think it’s because he’s trying to remove . . . well, you know. I can’t say it in front of a lady.”

“Semen, David?”

“Well, yes.” David squirmed in the orange plastic chair, then looked right into the camera and blushed charmingly. “So he uses a douche when he is done with each woman. But the police are wrong, Maureen. He’s not removing semen. Instead, according to his letters, he’s . . . well, he’s putting stuff
in
. He’s using the douche to spray another man’s sample, Eddie Como’s DNA, at the scene. And that’s why the police can’t catch him. All the evidence points to another guy. Let’s face it, four attacks later, the police are no closer to identifying the real College Hill Rapist. They haven’t a clue.”

Sitting across the table, Maureen was clearly breathless. “This man thinks he’s invented the perfect crime, doesn’t he, David?”

“Oh, absolutely. He’s proud of what he’s done. And he has no intention of stopping. His letters are very clear. He enjoys hurting women. Honestly
likes
it. And he’s going to keep going and going and going—”

“You’ve told this to the state police?”

“Maureen, I’ve been calling the police ever since Eddie was shot, poor guy. The minute I heard he was gunned down at the courthouse, I knew the letters were for real. This guy, you see, he framed Eddie and then he killed Eddie so it would look like a dead man was attacking Providence’s coeds. He’s smart, Maureen. Very smart. That’s what I’ve tried to tell the police.”

“You’ve actually spoken with the police?”

“Sergeant Griffin finally met with me this morning. It didn’t go well, though, Maureen. He threatened me with interfering with a police investigation. Then he got mad and started going on about his wife. I’m telling you, we were just friends!”

“Did you show Sergeant Griffin the letters you received?”

“He never gave me the chance. From the beginning, it was obvious he thought I was lying.”

She leaned forward intently. “Are you lying, David?”

David looked straight at the camera, and deep into the eyes of the viewing public. “No, Maureen. And the fact that I know about the douches should be proof enough. Call the ME, call a Providence detective. They’ll tell you that a Berkely and Johnson’s Disposable Douche with Country Flowers was found at every rape scene, even this last one. Now how could I know that if I hadn’t learned it from the real College Hill Rapist?”

Maureen turned toward the camera. She said somberly, “In fact, I learned just this morning from an inside source that douches are considered a signature element of the College Hill Rapist’s attacks, something that has never before been revealed to the general public. Also, police found a used douche in the home of slain college student Sylvia Blaire, raising the theory that she is the College Hill Rapist’s latest victim.” She turned back to David, her expression grave. “David, I don’t think you’re lying. The viewing public doesn’t think you’re lying. So tell us the real name of the College Hill Rapist.”

And David Price, reformed sinner for the day, said, “I’m sorry, Maureen, but I don’t think I should tell you that.”

“Come on, David. You want to make good. You want to help the public. Here’s your chance.”

“I should tell the police and only the police.”

“But according to you, David, the police don’t believe you.”

“I know. And it’s sad, very sad, Maureen, because I received a new letter just this morning. The College Hill Rapist went a whole year without attacking a woman because he wanted to kill Eddie first and wrap up his plan. Now he’s done that. Now he’s ready to make up for lost time. I’m pretty sure . . . No! I’m
absolutely certain
he’s going to attack another girl tonight.”

“He’s going to strike again,
tonight?
”

“I think so, Maureen. Yes, ma’am, I’m
sure
.”

Maureen leaned across at the table.

Her blue eyes were blazing. She was gripping the microphone so tightly her knuckles had gone white. She was jazzed. Her cameraman was jazzed. In the small room, they radiated pure energy. David amused himself by picturing them both dead. “David, tell us his name. You did a horrible thing once. You kidnapped little kids, you hurt children, you damaged a lot of families out there. People still remember that. There are people watching this right now, wondering why they should believe any word spoken by a monster such as you. Tell those people the College Hill Rapist’s real name. Show those people that you’re ready to make amends.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Maureen was nearly shouting now. “Do you or don’t you know the name? Speak to me, David. Help us! According to your own words, another innocent college student is doomed to die!”

David finally let loose. “I know his name! I want to help!” reformed sinner David wailed. “But . . . but look at me! I’m living in maximum security, Maureen. I’m living in the middle of Steel City, surrounded by the worst of the worst. And look at me! I’m only five eight. I weigh a hundred and fifty pounds. For God’s sake, do you know what it means to be so small in a place like this? Do you?”

“What are you saying, David?”

“Information is power, Maureen. In prison. In life. This is the only information I have. It’s my only chance at power in a place like this. God forgive me, but I can’t just give it up. I need something in return.”

Maureen finally drew back. For the first time, she sounded genuinely disappointed. “You’ll only give up the name of the College Hill Rapist in return for something else? That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it, David? You’ll only help us if there’s something in it for you.”

This was the tricky part. David bowed his head, then he sneaked a humble peek at his audience. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m sorry to everyone out there, too. I know it’s not right. But that’s how the system works, and I’m part of this system now. I have to play by these rules.”

“Are you hoping to get out of prison? You raped and murdered babies, David. You buried their bodies in your basement. No matter what you know now, people are going to be uncomfortable with you getting any kind of consideration.”

“I know.”

“You’re a murderer, David. Let’s be honest. You’re in maximum security for a reason, and most people are grateful that you’re there.”

David took a deep breath. “I’m a father.”

“You’re a father?” Maureen was so shocked, she actually blinked her eyes. It was probably the first genuine emotion she’d ever shown on camera.

“Yeah. I’m a father. I have a little girl. Five years old. Maureen, I’ve never gotten to see my little girl. Never even . . . gotten to say hi.”

Maureen’s face grew serious again, her tone intent. “What do you want, David?”

“I want to see my little girl, that’s all. Look, I’m not denying what you say. I know I’m never getting out of prison. I’ve made my peace with that. After the things I did, I should be grateful just to be on God’s green earth. I’ve seen the chaplain. I’m reading the Bible. While I can’t change what I have done, Maureen, I can try to be a better man from this day forth—”

“Tell us the name of the College Hill Rapist, David.”

“I have a daughter,” he continued relentlessly, “and she’s getting to that age where she’s noticing that she doesn’t have a father like other kids. I want her to know that it’s not her fault. I want her to know that someone loves her. I want her to know that
I
love her.”

“What do you
want,
David?”

“Three hours, Maureen. That’s what I want, all I want. Three hours, fully supervised, in street clothes, to go see my daughter. For the first time. For the only time. So I can tell her that I love her. So I can tell her that she’s a good girl. So I can tell her that I can’t be her father, but it’s not her fault.”

“You want the state to release you from prison for
three hours
. To turn a convicted killer loose on the outside?”

David held up his hands. “Supervised hardship leave, Maureen. Like the corrections department does for funerals, things like that. I’d be shackled, wrists and ankles. Escorted by corrections officers at all times. The police can pick where we meet, they can pick how we get there. I’ll do whatever I’m told. Greeting my daughter in leg irons with a security escort is still better than making her come here. Let’s face it, no little girl belongs here.”

Maureen finally sat back. She was frowning but for the first time she seemed willing to consider his proposal. And if she was willing to consider it, others would be willing . . .

“A three-hour hardship leave, fully supervised. And in return you’ll provide the name of the College Hill Rapist?”