Take the Fourth (26 page)

Chapter 38
 

H
e kept a watchful eye on the clock and did a refresh of Ripley’s biometric readings every hour, twenty-one minutes after the hour. He waited with bated breath each time, and each time let out a sigh of relief. She was still alive, although he didn’t want to think dark thoughts; he knew because she was still alive, she would need tons of therapy to enslave the torturous moments this beast had laid upon her. He could only imagine. And speaking of beast, Kyle Kraner, age thirty-seven, lived alone, as do most pedophiles and that was his foregone conclusion, even though there was very little information to go on. There were no major credit cards, only a Home Depot credit card, an ‘86 Ford Taurus in his name, although no auto insurance, very little phone calls either to or from his home phone, no cell phone, no cable or internet bill, two regular prescriptions from a local pharmacy—one for a pain medication, the other a sleep aid, only one bank account that he used for cashing work checks that contained a whopping total of exactly $47.00, no mortgage payment or rent payment and he found that was quite odd until he did a bit more research finding both parents were deceased and having just enough coverage to pay off the house and live free and clear excluding the taxes. He found Kyle was once a cook, a construction worker, and now part of an office cleaning crew. Kyle’s low credit report showed he had been delinquent a few times on both his utility bills and Home Depot credit card but for the most part he tried to pay everything on time. No speeding tickets or other violations were found and has almost a year left on his driver’s license before expiration. And that was about it for the offerings from the electronic world. Again, there was not much to go on and nothing in the data screamed “Look! Look! A pedophile! Over here a pedophile!” He didn’t work at a Chuck E.Cheese or Toys R’ Us, he wasn’t a registered sex offender—there was nothing, just a painted picture of an average someone who basically lived day to day given his income. Just how were the feds going to find this sicko if he blended in, if there are no big red arrows pointing in his direction? Sure, he found Kyle Kraner quite easily thanks to his tetanus shot four years ago for stepping on a nail but it was going to be a daunting task to the men in blue without some help.

He accessed the latest police report and studied the notes. Still nothing popped out. He noticed the names of three additional little girls thought to be part of this monster’s handy work. He entered their numbers into the system. He entered Tanya Drake and nothing. He entered Becky Timberstone and nothing. He entered Colleen Rhinehardt. Nothing. Not one hit, either they were never injected or his first assumption was spot on. He then searched the database to see if they were ever uploaded to the Virginia site. Colleen Rhinehardt was the only one who had not been injected; actually none of her siblings were as well. His next order of business was to find their last known transmissions. Tanya Drake’s last record in the system placed her in Butler, Georgia, just a few blocks from her home and by a small park. Kyle Kraner was also in the same location based on his NID readings. Coincidence at this point was slim at best. Becky’s last transmission was a few months ago, the location was very close to Kyle’s home address, almost right in his backyard, also not a coincidence by any stretch of the means. When he brought up the exact coordinates of Becky via a satellite uplink, he saw a gut wrenching site. He seethed with anger and rage as he stared at his monitor. Becky’s last known coordinates, the last known transmitting coordinates proving she was still alive were pointing smack-dab in the middle of a small water reservoir. She just might have been alive for a brief amount of time after her body hit the water. Being so close to his house he probably did what he needed to do and disposed of her the best he knew how. He let out a sound of frustration that came through clenched teeth. His seething continued. He just wanted to pack up, get in his car, and finish this monster off with his own bare hands. His mind wandered as he envisioned several ways of taking out his anger, most involved some sort of torture to the groin area. He again wanted to reach for the phone and call, call someone, but took a deep breath instead.

He pushed back his feelings and continued onward only to be interrupted by a phone call. It was work, yeah he was already at work but Ripley’s case was way out of his jurisdiction and the real work at the DNI was requesting his assistance. The phone call wasn’t anything major, only time consuming. One of the databases was throwing integrity errors and since it was a very secure database he had to find someone who had the security clearance to repair it. He knew right away that the only person besides himself that could fix it was out due to illness; therefore he would have to reset permissions and file the necessary paperwork in order expedite a new resource to take care of business. Sure he could have done it himself but he didn’t want to spend the better part of his day on mundane work when he had other pursuits. He satisfied his major responsibilities, answered a few emails, and was logged back into the system within an hour. He checked her NID’s. She was still alive.

He picked right up where he left off. Although Colleen wasn’t in the system, Kyle was. It wasn’t entirely clear if Kyle was accountable for Colleen’s disappearance since his closest markers were approximately fifteen miles outside of Colleen’s last known whereabouts and at this point in time the markers only logged once an hour. Yes, it was hard to say with one hundred percent certainty that Kyle was the predator in this case but sure as shit, he knew without a doubt in his mind what had happened to this little girl. Yes, sure as shit he knew and that’s why he had to stop this monster. He could have devoted more time searching for even more victims whom he feared there were but he had to take matters into his own hands and help his latest victim now.

He read Ripley’s case file again. He read it again and one phase stuck out—“walks with a limp”. “Walks with a limp, that’s why the pain medication.” He found the pharmacy records on his first search and reread those as well. He had been taking the pain meds sporadically over the past two years and always seemed to be on some sort of very mild sleep aid since Dr. Bergerman became his physician five years ago. The latest sleep aid he prescribed was no more effective than Excedrin P.M., although the doctor wouldn’t have gotten any free pens, paper, or a nice dinner with drinks included if he had given Kyle an over-the-counter pill. There was no indication why he needed either of these pills on the pharmacy records nor would there be; he would need Kyle’s case history. He would need to see Dr. Bergerman’s medical records to get a further insight. Again this was possible all thanks to the modern marvels of the computer age. Years ago this would have been a difficult task since most of the medical databases were on closed systems, meaning no connection to the outside world, yet in today’s world the medical profession couldn’t exist without this interaction. As luck would have it, Bergerman’s records were online in order to expedite insurance claims—his filing system left a little to be desired. It was no wonder Kyle’s medical records were not found the first go around—it brought to mind the mantra of one George Fuechsel, an IBM techie who coined the phrase “garbage in, garbage out” or simply “GIGO” in nerd speak. This database was atrocious, much like his or any doctor’s signature for that matter. There were misspellings, lack of data such as no addresses or phone numbers, incomplete histories, pages missing, inconsistent entries for date of birth such as abbreviated month, numerical month, two and four digit years, and the list goes on and on. He scoured the entire database and pulled together what he believed to be a complete profile on Kyle Kranner (with two n’s), based on Dr. Bergerman’s system of records. There were very few details. There was no mention of accidents. No mention of operations or outpatient procedures, just a few symptoms—“can’t sleep,” “pain in hip and leg”. There was not even an indication if it was the right or left leg. The only other thing within his file was a referral from a Dr. Polasky dated almost nine years ago.

He went to the same medical database to dig for Dr. Polasky. Nothing. He searched the white pages. Nothing. No Dr. Polasky within Kyle’s vicinity. Odd. He then searched Georgia’s database for licensed practitioners and had several hits—none near Kyle though. He then entered Polaski with an “i”. Again several hits. Again none near Kyle. On a whim he entered into the search criteria “expired licenses”. Again he received several hits. This time one was near Kyle, a one Dr. Henry Polaski, this had to be him but there was one problem—he was a pediatrician, okay two problems, he was also deceased. A dead-end, literally. Again this was odd—why was a pediatrician giving, at the time, a twenty-eight year old man, a referral to a new doctor, very odd indeed. He needed more information but none of Dr. Polaski’s files were online—it was so long ago and he was probably set in his ways while practicing medicine for over forty years. He found the doctor’s old address and phone number. The phone number was still active. The doctor’s wife, Neili Polaski, was still alive. There were other ways of finding information, outdated and old fashion some would say, but they have a lot to learn. He questioned—“should I? What are the chances?” He rationalized—“she was probably his receptionist, his file organizer, there is a good chance.” He glanced at the clock and picked up the receiver, his rationalizing was over.

After about four or five rings, “Hello.”

“Mrs. Polaski?”

“Yes.”

“Hello, I’m an associate with doctor Bergerman.”

“Doctor who?”

He so wanted to laugh as he remembered the British television show but didn’t, “Doctor Bergerman and this in regards to one of doctor Polaski’s patients.”

“Dr. Polaski is not here.”

Thinking now she has a little bit of dementia, this was going to be difficult. “I know Mrs. Polaski I… .”

“Yes, he passed away a few years ago I’m afraid. I miss him but I always say I’ll see him soon. So want can I do for you my dear?”

“We have a former patient of doctor Polaski’s and I’m wondering if there are any other files or records that the doctor might have?”

“I’m afraid whatever we had we gave to either doctor Swisher or doctor Bergerman but most of them went to Swisher.”

“Why?”

“He’s the closest pediatrician in the area.”

“I see, who did you send to doctor Bergerman then?”

“Children on the cusps… ages fifteen and older I think, I thought you said you were with Bergerman.”

Now knowing this gal was pretty with it, “I am… well I’m associated… . I just started last week and was going through the files, we don’t have much information on his patient Kyle Kraner.”

There was silence.

“Mrs. Polaski?”

“Yes… .”

“Can you shed any light on Kyle Kraner?”

“Is he okay?”

“You remember him?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll never forget Kyle, such a nice boy at one time, although I haven’t seen him since my Henry retired.”

“At one time… . what do you mean by that?”

“The last time I saw him, well it was very upsetting, my Henry had told him he was retiring and Kyle went into this rage, we never ever saw anything like it before, after that he never came around again.”

“Was Kyle his patient?”

“Sort of… . hard to explain really… . Kyle just really needed support. My Henry became somewhat like a father figure to him after both his parents died. Kyle was young, very young when he came to us the first time when his sister had become ill. He really didn’t have any money or insurance so he did odd jobs around the house and office, you know like mend a fence, mow the lawn, stuff like that. He was seemingly here once a week helping out my Henry anyway he could, more so after the accident.”

“The accident?”

“Yes, the one where he lost his sister, such a sad day, very sad day. His sister was a beautiful little angel, the bluest of eyes and almost white blonde hair, just adorable. Her funeral was probably the saddest day of my life… . only Henry and myself were there, such a shame. Now when my Henry moved on that was sad too but he lived a long life… . a good life, but when a child is taken, very sad.”

He could hear she started to sniffle as long lost memories were returning. “Can you tell me about the accident?”

“Not much to tell, Kyle was driving down to the lake and lost control.”

“Is this where he injured his leg?”

“Yes. He was pretty banged up, a crushed femur, a broken hip, a broken arm, he spent several weeks in Peach County Hospital. My Henry checked on him almost every day, he was so young, so alone.”

“How old was he when he had his accident?”

“Seventeen or eighteen, he was just devastated when his sister had perished in the accident, he was never quite the same after that. My Henry kept a watchful eye on him, he just needed to.”

“Was he unstable?”

“Do you mean physically or mentally because physically, yes, his femur and hip never healed properly causing a slight limp. Mentally, that too was unstable, losing your entire family at such a young age plus blaming yourself each and every day for your sister’s life, that would take its toll on anyone, but he managed as best he could. Like I said before he started stopping by even more. My Henry convinced Kyle to find a better job and he became a cook somewhere… ummm Apple… no… ummm… . I forget where… he made a really good ravioli… my Henry loved them. Yeah Henry never ate that much pasta but anytime Kyle would bring them over he couldn’t wait to sit down and eat. I miss those times with Henry, sitting at the kitchen table and talking over dinner. He was a kind soul, my Henry.”