Tell My Dad (3 page)

M
anuel came
out of the shower wearing a plush bathrobe and abruptly stopped when he heard the television news anchors talking about the abduction. He wiped off his face with the towel and frowned at the television. He remembered switching it off before entering the shower.
Something is wrong.
He threw the towel on the couch, quickly walked over to the bedroom, and opened the door. The girl was still sleeping.

As he sighed and closed the bedroom door slowly, he felt a sharp pain in his neck and lost his grip on the doorknob. He quickly looked over his left shoulder as he fell on his right on the hardwood floor. A monk with a shaved head, a round face, blue eyes, a sharp nose, and a red monastic robe stood tall.

Manuel’s adrenaline pumped up as he quickly stood up. He scanned to his left, searched for a knife on the dining table, and found none. His hip hurt from the fall.

“Who are you?” he shouted.

The monk stood still and signaled for him to come closer.

Manuel ground his teeth, shook his head, cursed, and lurched forward to beat the monk to death.

The monk quickly moved into action. He grabbed Manuel’s arm and shoulder firmly and pushed his right forearm against Manuel’s neck. Then, the monk pulled Manuel’s body forward and down while bringing his right knee up. The monk’s knee went hard and fast at a horizontal angle. He slammed his right knee first into Manuel’s ribs, then his stomach, and then his head.

When the monk finished his first round of knee strikes, Manuel felt intense pain and blood gushing from his nose, which added a good amount of confusion to the surprising attack. The monk did not stop. He continued to strike Manuel by keeping his firm grip on his right arm and shoulder. After three strikes, in a desperate attempt, Manuel grabbed the monk’s neck and choked him, which made the monk let go of his shoulder.

In a split second, the monk’s right palm moved at forty miles per hour and landed a powerful strike on Manuel’s chin, which caused his bottom middle teeth to separate from the gum.

Then, the monk quickly pulled back his right arm, rotated his left shoulder inward and upward, raised his right arm toward Manuel’s right cheekbone, and drove his legs upward to add power to the punch.

Manuel screamed after losing two more teeth.

The monk pulled back and delivered a straight punch to Manuel’s chest.

Manuel fell on the couch on his butt, closed his eyes, and cried in pain.

The monk pulled rubber gloves, nylon rope, and duct tape from his red-colored mountain backpack and tied Manuel’s hands and legs with the rope before wrapping the duct tape around his mouth. Then, he grabbed the remote lying on the floor and pointed it at the television.

News anchors were seriously debating how long it would take to find the dead body of the girl in a typical kidnapping case. The monk shook his head, clicked his tongue, and switched off the television.

He walked to his right and slowly opened the bedroom door. He scanned the bedroom and the back of the bedroom door quickly to make sure there was no threat. Then, he gently walked toward the girl sleeping on the bed and checked her pulse.
The girl is alive, thank God.

He scanned the living room as he closed the bedroom door. To his left was a filthy-looking kitchen with a small dining table and two chairs. On his right was the big living room with the couch in the middle. The house was silent except for the muffled moan coming from the man on the couch.

He quickly walked over to the kitchen and searched for something before spotting the faded blue jeans hanging on the dining chair. He searched the jeans pockets and retrieved a phone and a cigarette lighter. Then, he walked back to the couch, rolled the spark wheel of the lighter, and pointed the flame directly below Manuel’s clean-shaven chin.

He heard Manuel’s scream, loud and clear in spite of duct tape muffling it. He pointed his gun at Manuel. “Do you hear me?”

Manuel nodded.

“Good. I’m going to ask you a couple of questions. If you lie, I will kill you right here.” He removed the duct tape from Manuel’s mouth and maintained three feet of distance. He held his gun steady and pointed it at Manuel’s forehead.

“Did you think the cops would never find you?”

“You’re a cop?” Manuel did not like his own question.

“I hate people answering questions with a question. Let’s do this again. What is the plan?”

“I don’t know. Why the hell do you care?”

“Have you ever thought about what the parents go through when a girl is taken by assholes like you?” He waved his gun at the bedroom door.

“Oh shit. You’re the father?”

“Yes. I am.” He did not show any emotion as he calmly placed the silencer on the mouth of the gun.

“Hey, stop…” Manuel shook his head vigorously and struggled for the words. “I will do whatever you want. Take the girl. Okay? It was just supposed to be fun and adventure, man!” He lowered his head after failing to meet the monk’s intense gaze. “How did you find me?” He stared at the nylon rope that kept his wrists together.

“I could have stopped you in Sears. I was following you to see if there are other guys involved. It’s time to end your
adventure
.”

A second later, the monk pulled the trigger. A bullet went into the center of Manuel’s forehead, took a little tour inside his skull, and came out behind the sofa. Bullet casings hit the hardwood floor and created a mild ding.

The monk removed the duct tape and nylon rope and stuffed those in his backpack. Then, he scanned the living room and front door before checking Manuel’s pulse to make sure he was dead.

The monk took a deep breath, cocked his head to the right, and stared at the dead man on the couch. He pulled out the Glock he had shoved inside his robe and shot Manuel one more time between his legs. He paused for a second. Then, he shot him multiple times between his legs, until he emptied the chamber.

Next, he took out a small machine, a portable voice changer, from his backpack. He connected one end of the voice changer to Manuel’s phone, dialed 911, and started speaking to the operator. After a few minutes of conversation with the clueless young lady on the other side, he placed the phone next to Manuel’s dead body. Then, he calmly walked away and opened the front door before pulling up his hood. He put his head down, turned to his left, and walked toward Sylvan Avenue before climbing into a Honda Odyssey parked in the far corner. Then, he waited to hear police sirens.

A
ckerman and Walker
looked at each other when they heard the voice emanating from the police radio. “All units respond. We have the location of Amanda Rivera.” Walker listened to the address and sped up without speaking a word.

Ackerman continued to listen to the message coming through the police radio. Someone had called 911 and left a short message after giving the location of the girl. “Bad guy is dead. Justice is done. Send an ambulance. The girl is alive but sedated.”

They reached the house in less than five minutes and saw a few officers at the front gate of the house. Two teenagers from the neighboring house gazed at the officers, who were walking around the house with their guns drawn.

Ackerman walked quickly into the house. He saw the man in the plush bathrobe sitting on the couch; his dead eyes faced the ceiling.

“The guy is dead. He was shot multiple times,” an officer said.

Ackerman did not hear that. He was staring at the writing on the forehead of the dead guy.

“
Stay away
.” Two words were written using black permanent marker with a bullet hole in between.

Down below the waist, the man’s bathrobe was soaked in blood.

“No shit.
That
must have caused some serious pain,” Walker said as he pointed at the dead man’s genital area.

Ackerman nodded. “This is an overkill. Personal. Deep. The killer may be related to the girl.” He turned around and scanned the house for signs of the girl.

“The girl’s still asleep in the bedroom. She’s heavily sedated. An ambulance is on the way,” the officer said.

“No one else in the house?”

“Nope. We searched the entire house.”

“Check the bathrooms. Backyard as well. The killer must be somewhere close by.”

Ackerman stared again at the graffiti on the dead man’s forehead. In less than a week, two people had been killed in San Mateo. The killer had written the same warning on the forehead.

He ran his right hand through his hair as he watched the blood streak on the hardwood floor. The guy on the couch had been dragged from the bedroom to the couch.
Did the killer kill him before dragging him?

He watched Walker pulling a wallet out from the jeans hanging on the dining chair.

“His name is, um—
was
Manuel Bracamontes.” Walker waved the driver’s license.

Ackerman looked closely. “We need to find out everything about this guy. This is similar to the killing in the Delaware apartment on Sunday. There may be a connection between these two murders. The FBI is on their way. Their CARD team should know that there is a killer out there who is doing their job.”

S
hannon Winters adjusted her dress
, straightened the hair falling over her forehead, and checked the handbag one more time. Then, she walked over to Maria’s room and knocked on the door.

“I’m heading out to the hospital. I locked the back door. Make sure you lock the dead bolt on the front door. Be safe, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m not a baby anymore. I’m fifteen!” Maria got up from the red gaming chair, which she used for playing Halo on the Xbox mounted below the twenty-inch LED monitor.

Shannon hugged her. “Well, you’re still a baby to me! Be safe. Call me if you need anything.” She watched Maria nodding and following her to the front door.

“Don’t forget. Lock the dead bolt.”

“How can I forget when you tell me that a hundred times?” Maria giggled as she locked the door. She watched through the window as her mother backed her Nissan Altima down the driveway.

As soon as her mother’s car disappeared from her view, she ran to her room, brought the laptop to life, and logged on to Facebook. She quickly checked if Justin was online. His status was offline. She looked at the right bottom corner of her laptop screen. The computer clock indicated it was 9:00 p.m.

The web page changed Justin’s status from “Offline” to “Mobile” with a green dot next to it.

Her hormones surged, and her eyes lit up. She quickly typed, “Hi!!! Just got here?” and added multiple smiley emoticons in sequence.

“Hey, Maria! You seem to be in a very good mood! I kept my word. I’m here sharply at nine! Just like I said!!”

“Yeah, you are a man of your word!”

“I am. You seem to be really happy today!”

“Of course. My mom just left for the hospital.”

“Oh yes! I remember, your mom is a nurse in Mills Peninsula, right?”

“Yep! She won’t be back until 7:00 a.m. We can chat all night!!!”

“Awesome! What are you wearing?”

She blushed. “What am I wearing? Who wants to know? You naughty... :-)” She heard some rattling noise coming from the backyard as she added more emoticons to the chat window.
What is that noise?

She ignored the noise and focused on typing. “I’m not telling. You guess.”

“My guess will be pretty wild!” Justin replied.

She bit her lips, smiled, and thought about how to respond to his mischievous comment. Then, she heard the rattling noise again.

“I think the raccoons are back. Let me check. Hold on.” She got to her feet without waiting for the reply.

A big raccoon had gotten in last Sunday. Maria was so scared when she saw the raccoon coming into the kitchen. Her mother had been there to take care of it. Now, Maria started to worry. She checked the kitchen window. There was nothing. All the windows were tightly sealed. It was totally dark outside. She could hear only the sound of the wind now.

She sighed and went back to her laptop. “Hey, handsome, r u there?”

There was no reply.

She heard the rattling noise again, but it was a little louder than it had been earlier. “Oh, not again.” She cursed the raccoons of the world and looked to where the sound was coming from.

She walked quickly and switched on all the lights in the kitchen. The sound stopped. After a few seconds, it started again. She knew where it was coming from.
Back door.
The sound grew louder.

She gasped when the backyard door was forced open. A bald guy with a gray mustache stood tall on the aluminum rail with a gun in his hand. His right leg pushed the glass door further. He looked her up and down with a disgusting smile.

She felt the chill in her spine. “Who are you? Go away, or I’ll call the cops.”

“Oh dear! You know me very well!”

“What? Just go away. I swear to God I will kill you if you come closer.” Her hands trembled. Blood pumped up in her face and made it very warm.

“Kill me? How are you going to do that? With your bare hands, Maria?”

The bald guy smiled and showed his ugly yellow teeth.

How does he know my name?

He moved forward with the gun pointed directly at her head. He smelled really, really bad, as if he had not taken a shower for weeks, if not months. He inched forward and said, “Oh, my dear Maria! You are going to live with me happily forever! Did you forget all those sweet words you chatted with me just a few minutes ago?” He laughed out loud.

“Huh?” Her eyes widened.
This guy is Justin?

She screamed, “Help! Someone help please!”

The guy snorted and slapped the Colt pistol frame sideways to her head. She fainted in a second.

* * *

J
ay Sanchez took
a deep breath and looked around. He had been watching Maria and Shannon for the last week since he spotted Maria in a Forever 21 store. He had a thing for Hispanic girls. It did not take much effort for him to get to know Maria.

A fake account on Facebook and a cute boy’s picture downloaded from a European social networking site did the trick. The girl fell for it just like butter on a flame and spelled out details about when she would be alone in the house. The backyard door was a joke. All it took was a metal cutter and a couple of strong pushes. The absence of a security system made his job easier.

Jay grabbed Maria and put her on the shoulder of his big frame. He switched off all the lights. He slowly walked around and made sure there was no one else in the house. He shoved the gun down in his jacket as he came out of the house.

He scanned the narrow street. There were no lights. It was dark, just the way he wanted.

He replayed the route he would need to take as he walked toward his vehicle, which was parked on the street. He would be on San Mateo Drive in three minutes. Then, it would take another twenty minutes to reach his house in the hills. The girl was heavier than he expected. He took long strides to reach the vehicle before opening the trunk of the Subaru and throwing the girl inside. She was still unconscious. He wrapped her mouth and hands with duct tape and closed the trunk lid.

He looked at the street and the girl’s house one more time. He just realized that it was not much of a thrill. If there had been some resistance and a little fight, it would have been meaningful, he thought. He made a mental note for himself to raise the bar the next time.

He opened the driver-side door and lowered himself into the seat. The clock on the dashboard displayed 9:15 p.m.

“In and out in fifteen minutes, not bad! I should aim for ten minutes next time!” he said to himself with pride.

He calculated it would take about thirty minutes to reach his house. The girl should be awake by then. Duct tape would take care of her in the meantime. It would take some time for her to understand what was going on. Before that happened, she would be in his house.

He stretched his legs and hands.
Good job, Jay boy!
His hands touched the cushioned interior of the roof.

Just then, he felt something on his neck.

A long steel wire was wrapped around his neck and pulled him down backward. Jay sensed the danger, quickly brought down his outstretched hands, and aimed a strong punch at the person in the back. Whoever was hiding behind him knew what he was doing. Jay’s punch went nowhere. The guy behind the seat ducked his head without losing his grip on the garrote. Jay tried again, but his hands were throwing punches in the air. He struggled to breathe. The guy in the back twisted the wire harder, using his right arm while holding his left arm steady. The pain was excruciating. Jay stopped throwing punches and used his hands to try to pull the wire out. It was too late already. Steel wire cut the right side of his neck. Jay felt blood on his hands because of the pressure he applied to the wire. He pushed his head backward to loosen the wire. The headrest stopped him. Just then, the wire was tightened and twisted a little more. Jay started kicking his legs, which were blocked by the base of the steering wheel. About ten seconds later, he died.

The guy sitting in the backseat did not let the wire go. He held his position for one more minute. He grabbed Jay’s right hand, pulled it backward, and checked the pulse. No pulse. He let the wire go, jumped to the passenger seat like a trained monkey, and stared at Jay, whose body emitted a combo smell of vodka and Heineken.

He removed a phone from Jay’s pants. Then, he attached the voice changer to it and dialed 911. He waited for a few seconds and then provided the location of the dead man to the operator.

Before jumping out of the van, he took a black marker from his backpack and started writing on the dead man’s face.