All the Shiny Things: A Kate Reid Novel (Kate Reid Series Book 1) (24 page)

“You stupid little bitch!” he yelled and jumped off the cot.

That’s when she felt it. She had soiled herself. Katie pulled down the scarf to see him hunched over in disgust, wiping his pants.

“Grab the lamp, Katie,” a voice whispered as if coming from inside her head. She knew what to do as her body filled with strength far beyond that of a six-year-old. He rose just in time to see her swing the lamp. It struck him squarely on the side of his head. Blood poured from his temple as he stumbled back in pain.

Katie reeled from the blow, almost falling back onto the cot, her tiny body thrown off balance. He was stumbling and now was her only chance. She could make it to the stairs before he regained his footing. She reached the bottom step and heard him lurching toward her. “Run,” the voice in her head whispered again.

The door at the top of the stairs was stuck. He was only a few steps behind. She finally pulled it open with all the might she could muster.

“You think you can get away from me?” he bellowed, laboring toward the final step. “I’ll find you, Katie. There’s no place for you to go. There’s no one around for miles.”

It was so bright in the house; it must have been the morning sun. Katie looked left, then right, and spotted the front door. She had no shoes and no pants, but she ran as fast as she could.

He was almost on top of her now, barely making it out the door ahead of him. Ahead of her were the woods. Looking behind her one last time, there he was. His bloodied face stared directly at her and he smiled. “I’ll catch you, Katie. You can’t get away from me.”

Katie sat, bolt-up on the couch. She was out of breath and sweat poured from her brow.

Marshall lurched toward her. “Are you okay, Kate? I’m sorry; I must have fallen asleep. Did you have another nightmare?”

Katie looked at him with renewed vitality, grasping what had just happened.

“Come on, Kate, talk to me. Are you okay?” he asked again.

“I saw his face.”

Marshall’s expression hardened instantly at her words. It occurred to both of them exactly what this meant.

Katie rose from the couch and stood in front of him, breathing heavily, not just from the adrenaline the nightmare forced her body to pump, but because of the certainty that nightmare had just laid at their feet. The emerging idea brought a fleeting hint of a smile to her face. There was no mistaking it this time; there would be no more dead ends.

“Marshall, we are going to find him.”

THE GIRL WHO ESCAPED

14

T
his was the
part that she dreaded the most: opening her apartment door first thing in the morning to get the paper. Would they be there again today; the three or four reporters who lingered outside her quiet building in hopes of getting a statement from the girl who escaped? Their appearance had almost become part of her daily routine. So much had happened since she came forward. Was it still September? Katie had to look at the front page just to be sure.

An unusual morning for this time of year; bright blue sky and air so still that as she looked out among the palm trees lining the street, not a single frond moved. A nice breeze could generally be counted on to drift in through the open windows of her apartment; the air having been cooled by the ocean only blocks away.

But in the past few weeks, Katie’s life had been dramatically altered, leading her down a path she still feared, and so “unusual” had become the norm. No sign of the reporters yet, but it was still early. She stepped back inside and closed the door. The latch clicked and she cringed, wondering if it would stir Marshall. He was still asleep on the couch. He hadn’t left her side since the sketch of her abductor went public.

After the night of the last dream, the one that changed everything, Marshall had accompanied Katie to the police station, where the composite artist had sketched out the face. She brought to life her worst nightmare and it was the first time others would see the monster who had been haunting her dreams for the better part of a year. His long, thin face, round eyes, and high forehead offered a good starting point, but the version she had in her mind was more than twenty years old. It was a distorted, scowling image of a man; angry that he had been bested by a child. But what about now as his youth had given way to middle age? Receding hair, skin leathered with age, waist expanded from years of excess. These were all things that needed to be considered. One thing was certain; she would recognize that scathing stare and twisted mouth if she got the chance to see him again.

Katie remembered everything now: the smell of smoke that lingered on his clothing, the taste of ashes on his mouth as he forced his lips onto hers. Her ability to recognize such things when she was a child hadn’t existed and it was only now, as an adult, that she could put a name to those unmistakably pungent odors. Even the origin of the scar on the back of her calf had come back with a fierce, vivid recollection. The lit cigarette he pressed against her delicate skin, twisting and turning it until the flesh burned off because she dared struggle against him.

When the sketch artist finished his work, the drawing was scanned in and “aged” to reflect more accurately what he might look like now. Soon after, it was released to the media and he was everywhere. Her nightmare had become inescapable. Katie was overwhelmed by the attention. Everyone was fascinated by the girl who had no memory of her daring escape until now—especially Marc Aguilar. A reporter from Channel 9 News, he had been ever present since the story broke.

Today would prove to be no different. By the time Marshall and Katie left her apartment, they were prepared for another day of a game of survival against the media and a search that had been fettered by anonymous tips flooding the station. Each one took valuable man-hours to vet, but it had to be done. 

As the two made their way into the police station, where Katie still had a job working evidence, Aguilar made his way to the front of the usual crowd of reporters until he was less than 50 feet from Katie.

“Ms. Reid! Ms. Reid!”

Marshall instinctively stretched his arm out across her mid-section as if he would, at any moment, knock her down to protect her.

“Ms. Reid, Marc Aguilar, 9 Action News.”

She knew exactly who he was and tried hard not to roll her eyes in front of the cameras, an action that, if spotted, might turn an influential audience against her. He’d been showing up at the station almost daily since the sketch went out.

“How can you be sure your memory is reliable?” Aguilar continued. “Isn’t it possible that the rendering of the man who allegedly took you could resemble someone else; someone innocent of the abduction charges? Our minds do play tricks on us, Ms. Reid, don’t they? This did happen more than twenty years ago.”

Katie could feel Marshall gently nudging her. It was his way of telling her not to fall into this guy’s trap.

“Mr. Aguilar,” she began. “I appreciate your concern, but I can only rely on the memories that have come back to me and this is the man that I saw, at least, how he might look today. This is the man who kept me locked away for days. The man who tied me up, beat me, and then raped me. A man who is still on the loose.” A vision of the monster’s bloodied face forced its way to the forefront of her mind; it was the final impression she had of him. “My memory hasn’t yet betrayed me, Mr. Aguilar, since I have been able to recall certain details of my case that only law enforcement were made aware of at the time. I’m sorry if it’s not enough for you, sir, but I don’t believe you have any indication that this sketch is of an innocent man.”

“My point exactly, Ms. Reid.” But before he could continue, the police captain appeared, launching himself in front of Katie.

“I think that’s enough for now, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll issue further announcements as the case develops. Thank you.”

Captain Ronald Hearn, the man in charge, ushered Katie through the large sliding glass doors and into the lobby of the station. Marshall wasn’t far behind and could be heard mumbling obscenities under his breath.

“It’s okay, Marshall, really,” Katie said. “The guy’s an ass. Every time I see his spray-tanned face and over-gelled hair, I change the channel. He’s just trying to get me to slip up, I guess. Like he somehow thinks I made all this up, you know? Anyway, he’s harmless; you know that.”

“You’re right.” The heat that had risen beneath the collar of his polo shirt evaporated, returning his face to its normal shade. The air had become downright heavy in the center of town, not at all helping an already tense situation.

One of the warmest months on record in San Diego, this was just another in the string of unusual events Katie had endured over the past weeks. Since going public, nothing had been as she had expected. Spencer had not made an appearance; something that surprised her, to a degree. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since their last meeting, when he came back to the apartment to get the rest of his things.

According to one of the few of their friends who had chosen her side, he was quickly becoming a rising star at the law firm and had been seen casually dating a few different women. The friend insisted it was nothing serious; not that Katie inquired as much. That chapter in her life was over and she was sure of it now that he hadn’t so much as sent her an email asking how she was holding up.
You can’t have it both ways, Katie
.

“We’ve got to go meet with forensics,” Marshall continued as he led the way to the back of the station. “They’ve got the results back on the letter he sent you.”

“Do you really think they’ve got anything?” she asked.

“I don’t know. We’ve got to hope he’s gonna screw up somewhere down the line before he hurts anyone else. Chief Wilson’s coming down in a few days with the archived files and I want to be able to share the results with him. He’s got the letter sent to him too. We’ll be able to identify any similarities and hopefully find some kind of clue as to where we can find the son of a bitch.”

Katie noticed how Marshall always referred to her abductor in such terms: son of a bitch, bastard, whatever term he felt conveyed his contempt for the man at that point in time. She was no different. But when she first approached Marshall and he got to know her situation, he seemed to focus on helping her deal with what had happened. Now, he took it all so personally, as if the man that hurt Katie had, by default, hurt him as well.

Captain Hearn had been insisting that Katie enter into protective custody since she first came forward, but that wasn’t an option for her. Even Marshall was pushing for it; he wanted to protect her. But there had to be another solution. She’d been hiding from this for far too long already. Her agreement to let Marshall stay with her, at least in the interim, was more to placate the two of them than anything else. That was what she kept telling herself.

» » »

The forensics lab had become a familiar place. Katie’s work often revolved around it; collecting evidence from crime scenes, usually thefts, home invasions, and sometimes arsons, if robbery had been involved. She wasn’t assigned any homicides. That required special training and years on the job. She had neither of those qualifications and, for now, that was just fine with her. This past year had brought about enough of a dramatic shift in her life and career. She was content with her work identifying low-life criminals. That was safe, as far as she was concerned. The same couldn’t be said for what she was dealing with on a personal level.

“How are we coming along on the Reid letter?” Marshall asked the techie. That was what he called the guys in the white coats.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, detective, but this guy left nothing behind. We’ve run it for prints, DNA, fibers; you name it. I can tell you how old the paper is and where it was likely purchased. It was watermarked.”

“He used watermarked paper?” Marshall’s rhetorical question was answered with a nod from the guy in the coat. Marshall turned to Katie. “It’s not much, but we might be able to narrow down a location. What’s going to be really interesting is to see if Chief Wilson’s letter has the same watermark.”

Turning back to the man, he continued. “So where do you think this paper came from?”

“Not one of the big box office supply stores. No, this came from a small stationery store. The type and quality of the paper and the watermark have been identified as having come from a mill in the Pacific Northwest. We believe it’s the Green Mill Paper Company in Oregon City. Much of what they produce comes from recycled materials, which is what we’re seeing here in the fibers of this sample.” He held up the letter with a large tweezers-like instrument. “This is one of the watermarks they use. Although they mainly sell to publishers and newspapers, they have a loyal base of mom and pop stationery stores that have bought from them for generations.

“We tracked down their customer list and narrowed it down to five shops in Oregon. These locations were the ones that purchased this particular style of watermarked paper.” He handed Marshall a list of names.

“Well, we thought he hadn’t traveled far and this proves it. We need to get our guys out there and talk to these storeowners; see if they recognize the sketch. You mentioned you knew how old the paper was?”

“Right; yes.” The techie seemed to have been distracted by Marshall’s small, but meaningful, recognition of his handiwork. “I believe it’s about three years old.”

Marshall deflated, like an old birthday balloon from a party that had ended long ago.

“Three years?” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, appearing to fight off the despondence that was building inside of him. They had been hit with so many roadblocks up to now and here was another one.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he purchased the paper three years ago,” the technician continued. “It could mean the store had it in stock for three years.”

“Yeah, you’re right. We need to go back and see if we can get the captain to sign off on sending a team to question the storeowners. We’ll have to run it by local PD, of course.”

They had started out the door when Marshall stopped and turned back to the lab tech. “Thank you. Nice work.”

A perfunctory smile crossed the technician’s face as he continued on with his work.

The halls were bustling as usual, but they walked in silence. Katie imagined her abductor; his eyes visually consuming what was likely a teenage girl behind the counter of a stationery shop. A girl who came face to face with a killer; completely unsuspecting of the customer in front of her who was purchasing a box of cream colored, watermarked paper.

“Kate, you okay?” Marshall asked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine. Looks like you were right. He might have slipped up. Something as simple as paper; seems too easy.”

“Don’t get your hopes up too high just yet. We have a lead; that’s all we know right now. But yes, it’s usually the small things.”

“Marshall, do you think we should get the chief to send a patrol to my parents’ house?” A sudden fear for their safety came over her. “I don’t know how big this story is going to get, but I’m worried for them. And not just because of him. I can’t stand the thought of the press harassing my parents. They went through enough the first time around.”

“We could, but I don’t believe that they’re in any danger. So far, he hasn’t shown any interest in anyone else but you and the chief and we haven’t heard from him in almost a month. I’m not saying we become complacent, but I don’t want to rattle any cages by creating a presence around your family’s neighborhood.

Katie was nauseated by the thought that her parents could get wrapped up in all this again. Although she’d already been warned it could very easily go that direction.