To Probe A Beating Heart (16 page)

             
The van was on the freeway heading for an exit ramp a mile ahead.

“Almost there, about ten more minutes.” It was 3:47 pm. The rain was left
behind in Cleveland Heights.

             
In the Heights, the rain had slowed somewhat but was still coming

down, Joyce was talking to the policeman as he was getting out of the

car.

             
“This is Annette’s mother, Clare. Clare, this is Officer Casey Harshaw. If you don’t mind I’m going to knock on doors.”

             
A second officer was getting out of the other door and said, “Would she have been on this side of the street?”

             
“Yes, I think so, my house is up there” she said pointing “and Annette was trying to walk home, she definitely knows the way.”

             
“Okay, you get the first house, I’ll get the next one, try not to explain things, just point at us and say we told you to ask and run, time is very important. They’ll catch on,” and with that the office was jogging to the second house, Joyce went to the first one.“No, haven’t seen her. What’s going on?” said Andy, the first neighbor.

             
“Can’t talk, gotta’ run and she pointed to the police car, Annette is

missing.”

              “Oh, my God,” and with that, Andy reached back into his house and grabbed a coat and his wide brimmed fishing hat and was out at the curb almost immediately, “What can I do?”

             
The first cop said, “Hey welcome and thanks, you could help with the canvas. Start across the street and ask if anybody saw anything. Work your way up to the corner.”

             
“Okay, how long ago was she last seen?”

             
“About forty-five minutes; she was wearing a pink top and denim

shorts; and she has blond hair.”

              “Yeah, I know Annette.” and he was off knocking on doors.

* * *

              The van pulled into the driveway, Averell jumped out and opened the barn doors. He pulled the van into the barn and closed the doors. It was 4:02 pm.

             
Within twenty minutes, half the neighborhood was questioning the other half. Nobody had seen anything. Andy was approaching the last house on the block when the door opened and an elderly lady stepped out on to her porch. “Andy, what is going on?”

             
He explained and Mrs. Simpson said, “Why, yes I saw a little girl

almost get hit by one of those mini vans right over there.” She pointed

at the corner of the only street that Annette would have had to cross

going home. “And a man jumped out and ran around the front of the

van, I couldn’t see anything else. So I put on my sweater and came down stairs.” Mrs. Simpson looked confused and said “Andy how nice to see you, What’s all the commotion about?”

             
The first officer noticed Andy having an elongated conversation and ran up to check it out. “We got something?”

             
“Officer, this is Mrs. Maria Simpson, she is telling me something about Annette. Mrs. Simpson, this is Casey, he’s helping to look for Annette.”

             
“Oh that’s nice, would you boys like some tea?”

             
Andy looked at Casey as if to say, let me handle this, Casey figured

that Andy would probably get more out of her than he could and took a
step back.

             
“Now Mrs. Simpson, you saw little Annette and a man talking?”

             
“Well no, I saw him run around the front of his van to where the little girl was. I could not see through the van. And I don’t know who the little girl was, she was wearing a pink blouse and shorts, I think they were blue shorts, yes blue.”

             
“What color was the van, can you still see it?”

              “Yes, it was raining pretty heavy, but I’m sure it was a dark blue

color.”

              “Do you remember anything else about the van, like the license plate number, or the state, anything that you can remember even any of the numbers? Did you notice any bumper stickers, dents, scratches, window stickers, anything is more than what we know now.”

             
“Young man, see these glasses, I could see it was a blue van and the windows were all dark, but I could not see the license plates or any stickers or scratches.”

             
Casey was making notes, perfectly happy to allow Andy to continue asking the questions.

             
Mrs. Simpson looked a little confused again as she looked at the

crowds now in the street. The second officer came over and asked Casey
if they got anything, “Yeah, Mrs. Simpson here saw a little girl wearing a pink top and shorts talking to a man with a dark blue van with tinted windows. Why don’t you start with that house across the street, see if they saw anything.”

             
“Right, I’m on it,” and he jogged across the street to the next house.

             
“Now Mrs. Simpson, what happened next?”

             
“Oh, I don’t know, I came down the stairs and,” her voice trailed off and she stood there looking confused. She turned around again facing her visitors and looked at the crowd in the street. “Did you say the little Shelton girl is missing? Oh that man, with a van—.”

             
“What can you tell me about the man, was he tall?”

             
“No, he was about that man’s size,” she said pointing to one of the neighbors. “But he was wearing a dark jacket, and no hat, oh, he had dark hair, short dark hair.”

             
“Could you see what color his pants were, like dark or light colored?”

             
“Yes, they were tan, and I think the jacket was blue, and he was wearing a tie, a striped tie, blue and red stripes, I thought that he might need to have his jacket and tie sent to the cleaners.”

             
“What kind of jacket was it?”

             
“You know, a sport coat, a blazer, with the gold buttons.”

             
“Could you see his face at all?”

             
“No, his back was toward me mostly, but I saw his shirt, it was light blue and his red and blue tie.”

             
“Was he wearing glasses?”

              “No, I don’t think so, no I, I am not sure, but I think not.”

She couldn’t recall anything else and Andy stayed for a few more

minutes talking to her.

             
“Mrs. Simpson you have been very helpful,” said Casey as he reached out and touched her hand, “Thank you very much.”

             
She looked at Andy and said, “he’s a nice man, did they find the little girl?”

             
“Not yet Mrs. Simpson, but we will keep looking. And thanks.”

She went back in her house and Andy turned to the two officers and

saw that Dave was running up the street toward them. “What do we

know?”

              “Casey, this is Dave, Annette’s dad,” said Andy.

             
“Mr. Shelton, we know very little. Do you know anybody who drives a dark blue van with tinted windows?”

             
“No, no I don’t think so, is that where she is in a blue van?”

             
“Again we don’t know, Mrs. Simpson saw a blue van stop and a man got out. When she got down stairs, the van was gone.”

             
“License?”

             
“No, the rain was too heavy, nothing was clear.”

             
Dave dropped to his knees and hung his head. “Annette, little Annette.” He stayed on his knees for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and stood looking very determined and angry.

             
Casey saw the transformation and thought “We better get this guy

before he does.”

              Dave spoke in a deep authoritative voice, “Okay, what do we do

now?”

              “We check the neighborhood for two, three blocks in every direction, ask if anybody saw a dark blue van with tinted windows, knock on every door, ask everybody.”

             
Casey’s partner said, “I called it in, told the Sarge everything we know so far. He’s sending more help.” The entire neighborhood was blocked off, police everywhere, people talking to people, collecting information.

             
“Yeah, I saw a blue van with dark windows, looked cool.” said the

teenage boy, “Wish our van looked like that.”

              “Where was it when you saw it?”

             
“Turning onto Lee heading toward Cedar.”

             
“What did the driver look like?”

             
“Couldn’t see him, or her, wearing a dark colored shirt, or jacket,

couldn’t see the face though.”

              “What time was that?”

             
“Oh hell, I don’t know, ‘bout an hour ago, I was comin’ back from the video store.”

             
“What were you doing at the video store?”

             
“Duh, gettin’ a video.”

             
“Did you pay cash or use a credit card?”

             
“Cash, why?”

             
“A little girl is missing and we’re trying to establish a time line.”

             
“Do you have a receipt, and can I see it?”

             
“Yeah, here you can have it. Hey I didn’t know about the little girl.”

             
“Yeah, we may have more questions later.”

* * *

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I wanted her to last longer . . .

Averell lifted Annette out of the van and stood her in front of him. He

looked at her as if she were a squirrel or a rabbit, a new subject. She was
not big and bulky like Sleepy, she was not as tall or heavy as Marlene, she was small, easily moved about, easily positioned. He sat her down on one of the wooden crates and paced back and forth thinking about what he was going to do. He stopped and smiled at her, the fear was evident in her eyes, and this pleased him, the tears running down her cheeks made him smile. Averell stopped, he did not want her frightened, yet, he wanted her to be angry, defiant. He thought about how he could stir that type of reaction in her and started to say things about her mother and father. He told her that they were stupid and not nice people. They probably lied to her every day. He could see the ire raising within her. Annette’s face was reddening, her head slightly bowed and she glared at him with a hard cold stare. It was a reaction more easily seen in a little girl than a rabbit. He poked her with his finger and she tried to scream, but the gag wouldn’t allow her to.

             
“Let’s take off the gag, I want to hear the scream.”

             
“No, the neighbors might hear.”

             
“I don’t think they will, too far away, we could try.”

             
“Okay.”

Averell removed the gag, and told Annette to be quiet. She was gasping

for air, coughing and still crying all at once. Averell was pleased with the sobs. He slapped her across the face and said “My mother used to slap me for no reason at all, my father too.” He slapped her again and the crying grew in intensity. He paced, wringing his hands, he stopped and faced her and said “Do you want to go home now?”

             
Annette’s crying slowed and she looked at Averell, he smiled, “No,

I think we should play some more, don’t you?” he said. He paced some
more, thinking, pacing. He stopped and again told her that her family was bad and the bank should take their house away. Her father should lose his job and her mother should go to jail for lying. Annette was now getting angry, very angry. She half said and half spit out the words, “You are a liar, my mommy and daddy are good people, not bad people like you.” Averell was enjoying the banter, she was Sarah, and soon he was going to teach her a lesson, one she would not soon forget. Averell was sweating, he removed his shirt and stood in front of Annette and smiled again. He paced some more thinking, stopping and looking, pacing, stopping and thinking.

             
“I want this to last, as long as it can.” He paced some more and suddenly slapped her again. “That’s for crying, and this is for bleeding on me!” He slapped her again and ran to the van, grabbed his tool box and returned pulling the probes and the knife out and dropping the box. He reached out suddenly and cut Annette’s arm below the elbow with the knife, she screamed with pain and shock. Averell laughed and cut her other arm, she screamed again and Averell was breathing heavily, sweating and almost totally exhausted.

             
“We should slow down and take our time,”
said Stelian.

             
“Yes, yes we should, but I want to hurt her, now.” Averell was losing control of himself. He wanted to cut her again. He lunged and the knife slashed her leg above the knee. He almost collapsed with exhaustion. He stared at her as she cried and he smiled, “I love this.” He slowed down, paced, looked at her wounds, looked at her eyes. She was hoarse from screaming and crying. Averell went to the box on the floor and picked up the spilled tools, put them on a shelf and picked up one of his probes. “Yes, it’s time to probe, see what’s inside you,” he said as his breathing increased in intensity.

             
“Oh, I like this part, don’t do it too deep, she might break.”

             
“Right.”

Averell placed the probe on her cheek and smiled at her then suddenly

he pushed it through her cheek and into her mouth, hitting a tooth on the other side. Annette screamed. Averell pulled the probe out and laughed then he put it on her other cheek, as she screamed, he pushed it through. He pulled it out and looked at her, she did not understand what was going on. She was hurting, bleeding, she was going to die and she did not know why.

             
He took his wire cutters and approached Annette, she was terrified, she knew what wire cutters could do but she couldn’t scream, she stared at him as he came closer. Averell paused, looked at her and started to quietly say something to her, it angered her and she screamed at him. That was what he wanted, her anger, her screaming at him. He grabbed her arm and looked in her eyes as he suddenly cut off a finger. Annette’s eyes went wide and she gasped and looked at Averell in complete shock, then her body seemed to go limp and her eyes started to close, then, he raised her bleeding hand to eye level and placed the wire cutters on another finger.

             
“Do you hate me now?” and he squeezed the cutters closed. Annette’s finger fell to the floor and she was barely conscious. She was passing out and there was no reaction. He stopped. “No, this is not good, the fun is going away.”

             
“We should have told her first, then it would be better, she would know.”

             
“Yes, we will remember this for the next one.”

             
Annette was drifting, almost unconscious, Averell grabbed another

probe and poked her in her ribs. It went in about two inches and he

stopped. She stirred. He smiled and got his knife. “Now, this is going to hurt,” he said as he cut deep into her arm at the shoulder as if to remove it and at that Annette passed out. No longer conscious, she was no longer

fun and Averell abruptly let her crumple completely limp and sag to the

floor. He stared at her for a minute, tilting his head to the left, then to the right as if to view her in different positions. “I wanted her to last longer,” he said as he took hold of her hair and raised her head off the floor. “She is no good anymore,” he said as he positioned his knife at her throat. “What did I do wrong?” and he calmly drew the knife across her throat and let her body fall to the floor again.

             
Averell sat in the open panel door of the van, completely exhausted, looking at Annette’s lifeless body. He remained there for about ten minutes, alone, closed in the barn with Annette . Then he stood and walked over to her body lying twisted on the floor in a mass of blood, straw and dirt and he moved her with his foot, there was no reaction.

             
“We should clean up, and get rid of the evidence.”
said Stelian.

             
“Yes, we should do that,” and he slowly turned, surveying the room, “It was not as I expected it would be, I wanted her to feel more.”

             
“We will do better next time. Maybe this one was too little.”

             
Averell walked around the barn picking up his tools and the pieces

that he had cut off Annette. He looked at a finger and thought about

keeping a souvenir, but that was already decided, no souvenirs, they could be problematic. He put the probes, the knife and the wire cutters in a pile off to one side and all the rest of his tools in the box. He then removed all of Annette’s clothes and placed them in a bag. He put her in a bag also, but it was not working as well as he planned. She was too big, as small as she was, she was too big.

             
“No problem, we have lots ‘a bags.”

             
“Yeah, we do.”

             
He spread her body out on the floor and thought for a minute. Then he took a knife and began to dismember the little girl. After a few minutes he went to his van and retrieved a saw to finish the task. Annette was cut into pieces that fit neatly into three bags. Her head, fingers and arms were placed in one, her legs in another and her torso in a third.

             
“Almost done.”

             
“What else is there?”

             
“Well, first, I want to double bag everything, then I will wash off

our tools, and I thought about taking a shower in the house. But before

I do that, a little clean up,” and he used a broom to move the straw and

dirt around enough to soak up the blood that was evident on the floor.

When mixed with the dirt it was not obvious what it was and he massed it into a single pile, then with the coal shovel he scooped up a load and walked outside and flung the load out across an open field. He repeated the process until the globs of bloodied dirt were gone and the barn looked normal. “Now for the shower.”

             
“Good idea, You smell funny. Hey, what about keeping this little trinket, as a reminder?”

             
“Thanks, but no souvenirs, nothing that can connect us with her.”

             
Averell wiped the exterior of the plastic bags of any blood, double bagged them and placed them in the van. Then he took the tools he used, Annette’s clothes and a change of clothes for himself over to the house. He cleaned all the tools, took off his clothes and rinsed the blood out of his and Annette’s, soaking them and twisting them to get rid of the excess water and put them in another plastic bag. He stepped into the shower and let the cold water rinse off his body, rubbing with his hands as if he had soap. He stood in the shower as long as he could tolerate the cold, and stepped out.

             
“Are you finished?”

             
“No, I am going to do it again.” He repeated the process four more times, each time standing in the cold water as long as he could.

             
“Now, are you finished?”

             
“Yes, I am,” and he dried himself off with paper towels and dressed. He carried his tools and the wet clothes out to the barn. The tools were destined to be destroyed and the clothes were to be given away after a washing at a coin operated laundry. Averell loaded his van and took a final look around, satisfied that all was as it was when he arrived, he opened the doors. He backed the van out and turned it around, got out and closed the doors, putting the stick back in place. He slowly drove down the driveway to the street, constantly looking around for anybody that might be watching. He did not see anyone, no cars, no people walking about, nobody else was in the area. He was about to turn left and head back into the Heights to the Spring Hill Cemetery when he turned on his radio and heard the end of a report on a kidnapping in Cleveland Heights. He heard the words “blue van with tinted windows”. He quickly went to his back-up plan, turned right and drove two miles up the road and turned again. Alton Memorial Park was a small cemetery that he had located and designated as his back-up for that day. It did not have a fence and there was only one attendant, an older gentleman, who seemed to handle all the necessary tasks and worked only during the day. He would have probably covered the vault or casket, that afternoon with the small tractor mounted back hoe after the mourners had left and would reset the sod the following day. Averell had selected this cemetery as a back-up for just that reason.

             
The entry to the cemetery grounds went straight in, passing stone

markers, trees and small clusters of trees and bushes. The road was a

gradual incline for about one hundred yards and began to slope downward in toward a tee in the road. Averell turned right at the tee and drove along a winding road that passed small flat open areas on both the right and left that were labeled as ‘Green Pasture’, ‘Milton’s Walk’ and ‘Rose Garden’. The road wound in a large curving pattern through the cemetery and Averell was hoping that he was not getting lost.

             
“I have not seen a turn off other than those little openings, I hope we are not lost.”

             
“I think we are okay, the road seems to be curving more to the left than the right and we are probably making a big circle.”

             
“Hey, there we are again, just up ahead, that’s where we came in.

Alright, now I see,” He continued around again, this time making a visit
into each smaller opening. As he drove into the ‘Rose Garden’, he noticed a pile of sod rolled and ready to be placed on a recently filled in grave. Averell looked around, the grave markers were a blend of old and new, Christian and Jewish, large and small. He had checked the newspaper two days earlier for both potential cemeteries and a funeral was scheduled for that afternoon in each. “Planning, detailed planning.”

             
“Yeah and a little luck goes a long way.”

As he approached the grave site, he looked at the surrounding trees
and bushes, the contour of the ground. The description of his van, “blue with tinted windows,” heard on the radio was too good and he was very nervous.