Duncan's Diary (12 page)

I removed myself from my now lifeless partner and decided to leave her there for the rest of the day and go take a quick shower. I toweled as much of the blood off that I could, threw the towel in the corner, and headed into the tranquil relaxing refuge of my warm water flow that I enjoyed so much. The day had been perfect, but I was spent. I needed to relax, watch some TV, and figure out how I could spend the rest of my time in my quaint little home away from home.

I had known Sarah for a few years, and it was through her that I met Hannah. We were not close friends, but acquaintances. At times we found ourselves having a drink together, but our relationship was strictly platonic. I found it funny that Sarah on a night where she had consumed a huge amount of alcohol told me Hannah’s story. Sarah was a good friend of Hannah’s and, on most occasions, would not have divulged so much. I doubt she even remembered telling me all that she did. Alcohol can make you do funny things sometimes.

Hannah would be turning 31 in a few weeks. She had two girls. One was 14 and a freshman at Burlingame High School, and her younger daughter had just turned 11 and was in middle school. Hannah worked a low-paying job as an assistant that her friend Sarah had gotten for her three years ago. It was Sarah who had convinced Hannah to move up to the Bay Area from her, then, current location of Alabama.

Hannah had lived a charmed life in the beginning. She was the prom queen, the head cheerleader, the homecoming queen, and she was still drop-dead gorgeous although admittedly she did have to work at it now. She had grown up in a small town outside of Huntsville, AL., and most of her family still lived in the area. All her young life, she had dated Eric. He was a football legend in her area and had led their high school to two straight state championship titles. He had a scholarship to USC and had been the newest great arm that was supposed to lead the Southern Cal Trojans to their next championship. It had all seemed like such a blur for Hannah.

When Hannah was a junior in high school, Eric had been a senior; and it was during that year an episode occurred that would change her life forever. Eric was having a few people over to his parent’s cabin down on the lake and had asked Hannah to come along. At the time Hannah did whatever Eric told her to do. She had truly felt lucky to be a part of his life. Hannah described Eric as having an energy that would rival the little pink bunny on those battery commercials. She felt he held a seemingly hypnotic power over everyone around him. His touch and his personality were like magic that people and things fed from to make their lives meaningful.

Eric should have felt lucky to have somebody like Hannah, and apparently have her he did. Hannah had given herself to Eric freely since the end of her freshman year. She did as she was directed, and there was no limit to what she was willing to do if he but snapped his fingers and gave her the mandate. Sarah had disgustedly described Eric and the adoration that Hannah had felt for him before that evening. It was easy to see how much she hated this man.

Eric had driven them down a rocky road, which left a permanent impression on Hannah’s memory. It had been odd for Eric to take Hannah to his retreat with four of his closer friends. She was normally not included when the boys decided it was a night out on their own. She had known that boys needed to have their space to roam and vent — they needed an outlet for their endless energy and exuberance.

The long, gravel road had been bumpy and uneven in the 4x4 Ford truck that was given to Eric by the local dealership after he had won the first state championship. The truck had been a black, sleek symbol of what was wrong in the small town. Grown men worshipped a local hero who was still a boy and allowed him free will about the town as if he were somebody to be placed on a pedestal instead of a juvenile in need of guidance and mentorship.

Hannah had ridden in the passenger seat. Two of the boys had been in the back, and two others in the bed of the truck with Rocky, who had been Eric’s mongrel dog. Crippled since birth with a shorter right front leg that only allowed him to hop around, Rocky had been Eric’s constant companion and the only thing he really loved.  Everyone else to Eric was just a means to an end. He was destined for greatness, and everyone else in the world were just parasites along for the ride. Hannah had been naïve and trusting of Eric, but that night changed everything for her as the kids made their way to the destination.

The overhang next to a one-story, two-bedroom house that must have been built about 200 years ago was imprinted on Hannah’s memory. The house had been musty smelling with a creaky wood porch that held a three-seated swing. It must have come straight off the set of
Gone with the Wind
. At the time Hannah had felt a little tinge of the cold night air as she waited with her white cotton shawl dangling over her shoulders. She remembered hoping that Eric would hurry up and manage to get the key in the right spot, as he had always struggled to open the creaky door.

Once the doorway was breached, the lights immediately were switched on, and the old console wood-laminated TV was tuned to the local Alabama game. As usual, Eric had grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, waited for the door to latch shut, and then pointed to the bedroom that was just off the living room. Hannah had known what the signals meant. She dutifully went to her place and started to disrobe so she could make love to the boy she had adored her entire young life. She had realized he wanted to finish before the game started, as it was the highlight of the week to see Alabama University play football.

Eric was not your typical youngster from Alabama, nor was he typical for anywhere. Sarah described him as having the ability to shrink a room to the size where he was the only thing that mattered. He was always the center of attention and was totally and completely the focus of everyone he knew. Unfortunately, he had care only about himself and most likely still did. He had grown to believe what everyone said and thought and, now, felt that he truly could do no wrong. The world had been his to command as he saw fit.

Hannah performed her girlfriend duties that night, making sure that Eric was pleased in any way that he needed up until the point where he was spent and could be pleased no longer. As was normal, the entire process from beginning to end took no more than 10 minutes, and then he lay next to her telling her how special he felt she was. Their relationship would be the one to last through all eternity. He had a way of saying things that could make anyone believe they now had the ability to conquer the world. They, too, were going to be the one carving destiny versus being a cog in a wheel that turned and moved as it saw fit.

As Eric left Hannah that night, he leaned over to her and said how much he loved her and was so proud that she would do as he said. He had whispered to her how much it meant to him to be able to trust her to play the role that he had instructed and devised. At that point, after Eric pulled on his jeans and walked out of the bedroom door barefoot and shirtless, he raised his hand, pointed his thumb in the air, and yelled out “next.” Hannah quickly understood what that night was meant to be.

There were four other boys that had accompanied them to the cabin, and Hannah was to know all of them intimately, and some of them more than once. Who was she to question what Eric had commanded? Who would even believe her if she had tried to tell the world what kind of person Eric was and what he really did to humiliate her and degrade her? She had been just a tool to be used for whatever purpose he desired. Hannah did as instructed that evening and ensured that each boy was pleasured and fulfilled to his climatic finale. Each boy had the experience that he needed and was gratified to his endless rapaciousness.

Sadly enough, Hannah married Eric a few months later, as she had become pregnant from that evening. Despite their misgivings, Eric’s parents had insisted he do the honorable thing, since he was the father of the child. Nobody knew any differently. It was the South, after all, and there was a code that needed to be upheld. She had then followed him to USC, where she attended a junior college for one year. She ended college after her first year to follow Eric back home. It had only taken Eric two years to get kicked out of school and lose his scholarship for conduct detrimental to the team.

He had taken poorly to not being the star that he was projected to be, and apparently everyone was a little bigger and quicker in the college arena. His skills were not able to compete at quite the level everyone had predicted. He and Hannah moved backed to their small town, had another baby, and she watched Eric disintegrate into a lowly drunk with no goals—only a huge belly and a smell that seemed to emanate from him at all hours of the day.

It is amazing that Hannah had ever made it out of that hell; and if it were not for Sarah, she most likely would still be there today. Hannah had met Sarah in her one year of junior college. Sarah had gone on to graduate, transferred to USC, and got her degree in accounting. She now worked at a corporation in Foster City. Sarah’s friend had owned a company and needed an assistant. Having kept in contact with Hannah, Sarah gave her a call, had her move to the Bay Area, and got her the job.

Hannah lived in a small two-bedroom apartment off Broadway in Burlingame. She worked for the last three years in her current job and went out periodically with what seemed to be a long list of losers. Her past dates were either married and wanted a fling or were themselves past heroes of some level or another, but who were now just alcoholic wannabes, waiting for their lives to end.

Hannah attempted to be a good mom and provide for her kids to the extent she was able. The small two-bedroom apartment was the maximum her low-paying job would allow, which meant her two daughters had to share one bedroom. The schools were great in this small Bay Area community, so at least both her girls would get a good education. Hannah’s parents had both died a couple of years back and would never know the sadness her life was and continued to be.

The oldest daughter Laura was perceptive and picked up on the bleakness that oozed from her mother’s pores. They were both good kids who gave Hannah little trouble and had to fend for themselves much too often it seemed as of late. After Sarah had introduced me to Hannah, it was through our daughters that we became better connected. They both attended school together and had become friends.

Laura was my biggest advocate to her mother. She continued to comment on how funny I was and how cute. I had made the kids pancakes one morning when Laura spent the night, with crumbled up chocolate bars, which was amazing to her. Sarah was intent on fixing us up, and Laura was helping my case immensely.

Pancakes prepared by a father in the morning were something Laura had never been exposed to. Even the concept of a man in the kitchen who was doing anything other than preparing to leave was foreign to Hannah’s daughter.

Hannah’s dating life continually found her sitting in a bar across from another failure who might even be married. Her experiences in that area were less than pleasant. She tended to wander off during conversations lately, as they all seemed to roll together. There was nobody left that was interesting in her mind. It seemed everyone did the exact same job and lived the exact same life as everyone else. It was all meshing into a jumbled ball of Playdoh.

Hanna’s mom always warned her not to mix the colors. “Don’t roll everything together, Hannah. It will all form into one big ball of colorless brown goo, and you will never again be able to untangle it and see the bright spectrum that you were meant to enjoy.” Ah, such is life. The colors had long ago faded for Hannah, and she described her life as a brown mess that would never amount to anything more.

The odd thing is, the cycle that we all find ourselves in seems to closely match that of our parents. Whose parents did not always want more for their children than they had for themselves? We all want our children to succeed in ways that we never dreamed, holding themselves above the group and status that they were born. Every little girl dreams of being a princess, but in reality we all know that is just not the case. Most slippers get tarnished at a young age; and once the dirt gets embedded, it seems impossible to ever get clean again.

Sudhir woke up early as usual in his recurring, slightly hung over, still somewhat drunk stage. In the last several weeks, he had found that the closest to sober he ever seemed to get was in the morning right before he had his cup of coffee with a little vodka kicker. He recently could not even make it until after his shower, but preferred to grab a cup with his jolt before jumping under the soapy water.

He was still unable to get Jill her out of his mind. It had now been several weeks since she was last seen, and he knew the odds of her ever returning were minuscule. He had kept in touch with her parents, who had also given up hope. They were starting to plan a ceremony for her friends and their relatives so they could all say good-bye. Under normal situations it might still seem too early to give up all prospects completely, but with the evidence in play, it seemed she was not coming back.

He had downed his first cup of coffee, and it was settling in to his system warming him to his inner core. The comforting spray of the shower ran down his head and settled in a pool, circling his partially plugged drain below. He watched the swirling water as it continued to build, but eventually found its home in the unknown black hole down the drain. His almost hairless head was most likely to blame. He would have to work at unplugging the jumbled mess this weekend.

Sudhir continued to feel there was something more he could or should be doing. Even if Jill were murdered, he had to bring the responsible party to justice. He didn’t feel like he could continue without having some conclusion to this madness. He must have drifted off into one of his daydreams which were lasting longer than normal lately. He heard his wife outside the curtain and knew that if he didn’t exit soon he would be berated for taking more than his allotted time.

He waited for her to leave, then jumped out, quickly toweled off, and threw on his polyester slacks and faded plaid shirt. He then went in for another cup of coffee, as he began preparing the kids’ breakfast. He could already hear the rumblings of bickering coming from down the hallway, as they awoke and immediately began the debate from the night before with refreshed vigor. As he placed the waffles on the table, Tracey turned on the TV, which had recently become customary for breakfast. A Volvo commercial advertised the new model of the safe and secure XC90 SUV. How ironic, he thought.

He turned to the TV and began to wonder how many Volvos were sold in the Bay Area. He wondered how many XC90’s were in the Bay Area and additionally how many were green. He felt for the first time that he might actually have an idea to move forward with. It was a long shot, for sure, but worth a try. He hurriedly fed the kids and shuffled them into the car as he herded them to school. Once in the office, he began his search.

He had gone through some training since the phone incident and was becoming more comfortable with the information available online. There was an extensive car database and registration information available. He should easily be able to pull up how many models were registered in the surrounding area—exactly what he was looking for. There were 5,178 green XC90s. Sudhir felt that within this list somewhere was his guy. He pored through the registry of names briefly, but realized this would not be the correct way to move forward. He decided to shrink the list by using only male-registered vehicles, as it would seem odd that a woman would be performing this type of crime. This only narrowed it down to 4,187—most cars are registered under a male’s name it seems.

His next thought was to focus on crimes where a XC90 was involved. Maybe that would narrow it down. He canvassed the recent crime reports involving missing women that referenced a Volvo XC90 and was surprised at a recent occurrence. Apparently near the town of Manteca, just a few days ago, a Volvo SUV was seen pulling away from a car. A woman had been abducted. She had not been seen since. Her boyfriend had been picked up and questioned, as he has a record for some minor incidents, but nothing had added up for him to be further detained. Sudhir decided he would drive up to the local police station to see if there were any chance that this crime was in some way connected to Jill’s disappearance.

On the drive up, he realized that morning was the first morning in a long time that he had not had a shot of anything to start off his workday. Not counting the pre-shower pick me up, of course. He simply felt driven and purposeful at the thought he might actually have found a lead. He called ahead to make an appointment and to be sure the local detective assigned to the case would be able to see him. He was assured this would be acceptable and continued on with his trip.

Once in Manteca he headed to the local station and discussed the case with Philip, the detective assigned to investigate. There was an incident with Brenda’s car (Brenda being the missing girl in question; and at the time, her boyfriend had been with her. They had been out at a local bar, but were actually heading home early. He stated that she was feeling extra open-minded, and he had wanted to take full advantage of the timing, so they were in a rush. On the way home, they had an issue with the car and pulled over on the side of the road. He had jogged ahead to the local gas station; and just before he made it back to the car, he saw a Volvo SUV pulling from the side of the road where Brenda’s car remained.

When he arrived she was not there, but he found one of her sandals on the ground in front of the car. He had forgotten his cell phone at home. By the time he had jogged back to the gas station and called the police, a couple of hours had passed. He was questioned, everyone at the bar was questioned, and everything followed his story. She seemed to have just disappeared. No note, nothing – just gone.

Sudhir shared his own case with Philip, and they both assured each other that they would keep the information flow going if and when anything came up. Sudhir was given a copy of all the case notes and interviews that had occurred, and he left with his stack of new documents. He spent the rest of the afternoon and evening scouring through the details, hoping that something would enlighten him, but nothing connected. Finally, around 9 p.m. (and after several calls from Janine), he called it a night and headed home.

He, again, realized that he had now gone the entire day without a drink— save the good morning sneak. He took his vocal beating upon his arrival in good spirits, went to his solitude in the living room. He relished in the comfort of his visual and auditory escape again with
Bonanza
on Nick-at-Nite. He really was not paying much attention as his mind continued to float around today’s findings, and he instinctually felt sure that the two incidents were connected. This meant that he now not only had a killer he was tracking, but he also had a serial killer with at least two victims.

Sudhir decided he would start over tomorrow. He’d look through his case details and the now-connected incident involving Brenda to see if anything seemed linked. Jill and Brenda were two girls that might not be able to live out their lives as they expected—and, they were due. Who has the right to take a life that is not his or her own? For the first time in his existence, Sudhir had known in his heart that given the opportunity he would be able to use his gun. He had always wondered if at the moment he needed to react he would be able to actually pull the trigger. He truly felt that not only would he be able to; but if given the opportunity, he would enjoy it. This person needed to be removed from earth, and he needed it to happen quickly.

He couldn’t conceive of having to add another folder to the stack of two in his lap. He couldn’t even remember placing the folders in his lap, but he now held them as he would his own daughter Tracey close to him. He wished he had been able to protect the two women and keep them out of harm’s way.

The helplessness one must feel as he see his child taken from him in an act of violence must be one of the most heartbreaking experiences that a parent can face. The only thing worse would be the forced ineptness a parent feels as his or her child becomes addicted to drugs. The parents are forced to watch the painful demise of the child as they deteriorate into nothingness, consumed by an inability to say no. The only positive thing he could think of is this was at least a faster move into death.

The slow demise of a son or daughter over an extended period might be more than he or anyone should have to handle. In the end both arrived at the same location. Death of a child leaves a hole that should never exist and can never be filled. It’s a hole that can rot the insides of parents until they, too, might find themselves falling over the edge, never again having the ability to return.