“Did any of the young white guys, not ex-cons, stay as long as you?”
“A few.”
“Names?”
“There was Jason Briggs and his brother Raymond. Ray ended up cutting off a finger, and he didn’t come back. Alex Vandersteldt joined the Air Force. That peeper guy, I don’t think he was an ex-con. I saw him in the mall, and I still can’t remember his name. But I do remember the guy who caught him at that woman’s window. Kyle Stone. He told Old Man Lister, but the guy just didn’t come back. After awhile, I was the only white worker left before Lister suspended construction last November.”
“What did the peeper look like?”
“Short. Dark hair. Strong, worked out with weights. Hard worker, but kept to himself.”
“Anything else?”
“Not even a damned tattoo or a scar. I lay in bed at night trying to remember...”
“Do you think he grew up in the area?” Garcia asked.
“I think so. He seemed to know his way around, but he didn’t talk to me much. I think he was the same age as me, but I couldn’t tell you what high school he went to. If he went to East Marine, I’d remember it.”
Garcia picked a yellow leaf off his car’s hood. He turned it around, the stem between his fingers. “How’s Kristen doing?”
“She’s still working. Darius usually gives her a ride home.”
“This guy won’t wait much longer, there’s going to be another victim.”
“What scares me is that the next girl might not be left alive.”
“In the e-mail to Kristen, the Ravisher made it sound as if he is on a quest. Each attack, each girl, is bringing him closer to something he wants.”
“He’s a psycho, that’s for sure.”
“I was hoping the Ravisher had graced Haven Rest with his presence at one time. I looked through some patient files, found some possibilities. Does the name Rick Chambers sound familiar?”
Tony nodded. “When we used to live at the Lakeshore Apartments, Rick Chambers lived in the apartment below us with his mom and his little brother. Rick has mental problems, we could hear him yelling sometimes. The police would come.”
“Did you go to school with him?”
“Yes, but he didn’t graduate.”
“How about a guy named Trey Winstead?”
Garcia watched Tony’s handsome young face register surprise, followed by a sheepish smile. “That’s his name! I kept thinking Taylor or Tracy. It was driving me nuts!”
“You mean, Trey Winstead was the peeper?”
“Yes. Oh, my God. Arrest him!”
“I’ll definitely be questioning him.”
Tony was now grinning, his face flushed. “I can’t wait to tell Kris—”
“Hold on for a minute. There’s no proof yet. Trey Winstead was a patient at Haven Rest a few years ago, but so was Chambers.”
“Were they there at the same time?”
“No, but close. Winstead was a suicide attempt. So was Chambers.”
“If Trey is arrested, will there still be a curfew?”
“Unless he confesses, the curfew will be enforced.”
“You need to hurry”
“Yes, I do.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up,” Aron said. “Don’t leave the building alone.”
“I won’t, Dad.” Sonya leaned to open the door to get out of the truck. “I’ll be downstairs.”
“Why?”
“I’m looking up articles for a research paper.”
Sonya entered the downtown Marine Public Library, another Victorian, century-old structure that had been restored many times over the years. Sonya walked up the wide marble steps, covered in weathered green felt, through the heavy modern doors to the foyer. The high ceiling boasted an old chandelier, the checkered floor tiles from fifty years ago. A doorway on the right led to the help desk and bookshelves. The fireplace was never lit, but an old man sat in a stuffed chair, reading a newspaper. To the left, winding metal stairs led to the magazines and newspapers.
A library volunteer, an elderly woman in a pink fleece shirt with a puppy and kitten design, showed Sonya the Marine Press archives that were placed on microfiche, taking up a roomful of filing cabinets..
“Is there a particular article you’re looking for?” the volunteer asked.
“Anything on the Blue Diamonds,” Sonya said.
“I’d say you have your work cut out for you. There has to be articles going back forty years. That’s when those devils first came to town. What year do you want to start?”
“1990.”
Sonya chose that year for a reason. Due to a new mayor, the Marine Police Department was cracking down on the Blue Diamonds by 1990, meaning more drug busts and court dates. Justine’s mother was attacked nine years ago, and the girls were being fished out of Marine’s side of Lake Michigan by 1995, although the Diamonds’ grip on Marine was lessening.
The woman returned with the microfiche, each small roll in individual boxes, labeled by year. She attached the first roll to a spindle, each page shown on a small screen. Sonya, turning the handle of the spindle, whizzed through each page of each issue of the Marine Press, not surprised to see Cal’s byline in most of the Diamond-related articles. Mayor Carol DeKooning, the Diamond-buster, had provided enough action for Cal to write about, but Sonya was surprised at the lack of interest regarding the missing girls. Mayor DeKooning seemed more intent on drug busts, creating an image of herself as unyielding.
Sonya stayed focused on each article, most on the front page. The leader of the Marine branch of the Blue Diamonds, Terrence ‘T’ Hanson, was photographed in color outside of the club-house. Dark sunglasses, a leather cap on his bald head, a fat belly hanging over his jeans. He wore a white T-shirt under a black leather vest, the Blue Diamond grinning skull on the back. He was leaning against a vintage Harley-Davidson. A quote was printed above the photo, the issue from June 8, 1991:
“Politicians can’t be expected to understand the loyalty my brothers have for each other. Before DeKooning, there was Bob Hale. Mayors come and go, but the presence of the Diamonds will always remain in Marine, because we provide a service the local politicians don‘t; loyalty and protection. The people of Marine trust us.”
T. Hanson had been a ballsy guy, Sonya thought. DeKooning must have hated him.
She glanced through a few more issues until she came to another front-page story about a drug bust; this time, a crack house in Marine Heights. The story was continued to a back page that led to another small article.
A photo, taken at a graveside service. Several Blue Diamonds and their women stood amid the tombstones nearby. The coffin was small.
“Blue Diamond Leader Attends Funeral–
T. Hanson was seen Friday afternoon at Marine Township Cemetery, following the funeral of an infant daughter of Wayne Stone, a fellow Diamond. Stone recently testified against Rudy Marks, a major Marine-based seller of heroin with ties to the Blue Diamonds in Marine and Orlando, Florida...”
Sonya looked closer at the photo, most of the people with their backs to the camera. Sonya recognized a younger Barb, wearing a long black dress, holding a child’s hand, a dark-haired little boy. Next to Barb, a man wearing leather and a cowboy hat, his chin covered with a bushy goatee.
Wayne Stone.
The tiny coffin was covered with flowers, suspended on a stand before going into the ground.
Lily had died from crib death.
Sonya called after the volunteer, asking if she could get a copy of the article. She looked through many more, through the next three years. Nothing more had been written about the missing girls, no interviews of parents looking for their daughters.
Why didn’t Cal follow the story? Sonya thought.
She managed to answer her own question when she found an article from November 3, 1995. Cal’s by-line was followed by a story
about the discovery of seventeen year old Lisa Connor, missing for weeks. Tangled in weeds and leaves, her naked body was found floating in Eagle Lake in East Marine, less than a mile from Piper’s house.
Cal listed the missing girls:
Tammy Ross, 19,Dawn Eddy, 21,Becky Hanchera, 23, Michelle Lord, 18, Jackie Mays, 19, and Lisa Connor, 17.
Six young women and teens found floating over a period of four years. They were strangled, a few possibly drugged. Sonya requested a copy of this article as well.
She did not have to search long before she found the first story about the kidnapping and rape of Angela Kent. Cal did not make the police department seem especially heroic, although Angela did express her gratitude. Detective Bass had been kind, cutting her from her bonds at the bed, covering her with a blanket until paramedics arrived. He was photographed carrying six year old Justine, still asleep from being drugged, out of the cabin, her head on his shoulder.
Cal had stayed close to the story, reporting on Philip Kent’s attack on Jimmy Hepler, and the trial that followed. Angela even took the stand in her husband’s defense, begging the jury to understand that guilt drove Philip to assault Hepler, that any man in his place would consider doing the same. The judge was lenient, sentencing Philip to three years in a minimum security penitentiary outside of Falls River.
A few years later, Justine would enter the Crandall Academy.
Why did Angela Kent stay in Marine? Sonya thought. Why would she want to?
*****
“Hi, Cupcake.”
Bobby stood at the door, Bill smiling at him. “You call Piper, ’Cupcake.’”
Bill shrugged. “You’re a cupcake, too. Come on in.”
Bobby patted Helga on the head, walking through the mud-room to the kitchen, where Sonya and Piper were sitting at the table.
When Bobby came closer, he noticed Piper holding a knife at the handle, the blade’s tip resembling a half-moon. She looked up at Bobby and smiled. “The mystery knife.”
“Looks savage,” he said.
Bobby was dressed in jeans, the legs ending above the ankles, a hot-pink fleece jacket over a white T-shirt, a blue and gray checked cap on his head. His fingernails were painted pink, an old pair of saddle shoes on his feet. When he removed his cap, his blonde hair had been shaped with gel into a attempt at a 1950s-style ducktail, the sides combed up and back, the bangs just brushing his forehead. He took off his jacket and sat down.
“Kristen called me last night,” Sonya said. “Ben Garcia wants to question Trey Winstead and Kyle. Supposedly, Kyle caught Trey peeping in some woman’s bedroom window at Whispering Pines. They both worked for Lister Construction last year.”
“Did you ask Kristen if she goes on FriendsRing?”
“She said no, she doesn’t even have a page on Facebook.” Sonya sat down at the table. “Bobby, Garcia told Tony that Rick was a patient at Haven Rest around the same time as Trey Winstead. Did you know that?”
“No. Rick never mentioned anyone else at Haven Rest, except for his therapist, who he thought was a jerk.”
“Is it possible that he would have met Justine?” Sonya asked.
Piper placed the knife back in the case. “Maybe. Boys and girls are only separated at bed-time.”
“So there has to be some hook-ups,” Bobby said.
“Which is something the nurses wouldn’t want to deal with,” Sonya said.
Bill was sitting at his chair with Helga, reading a newspaper.
“Uncle Bill? Do you remember Mike Winstead ever saying anything about his son having mental problems?”
Bill put the paper down on his lap. “He was depressed for awhile. Broke up with some girl. That was before I retired.”
“Did Mike tell you that Trey tried to kill himself?”
“Yes, he did. Mike raised Trey alone, after Judy took off. Trey was just a baby...”
“If Trey is only twenty years old,” Sonya said, “Mike must have been older—”
“Almost forty when Trey came along. Judy was a lot younger, maybe early twenties. Mike had been married before, and helped raise his step-kids. He comes home from work one day, and finds Judy and her suitcase gone, Trey asleep in his crib.”
“She left him there alone?” Sonya asked.
“Yeah. Mike’s mother helped a lot after that. Judy moved to California.”
“Does Garcia know any of this?”
“You can ask him yourself when he stops by.”
“What?”
“Aron said he called while you were out. Someone gave Cal the serial numbers on that knife, and Garcia will trace those numbers to me.”
Sonya jumped from her chair. “Does Dad know?”
“He’s helping me clean out the shed. I can take my plants to Ernie’s farm.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Bill. I wasn‘t thinking.”
“We’ll be okay, we just have to be careful.”
Sonya came closer to Bill’s chair. “What about Barb?”
“We already called her. It’s okay.”
The sliding glass door opened, and Aron entered. “I put the camper cover on.”
Bill nodded. “We can go later. After dark.”
Sonya turned to Piper and Bobby. “You guys want to see my room?”
*****
“How long have you lived with your dad and uncle?” Bobby asked.
“Since June,” Sonya said. “My mom died in the spring.”
Bobby and Piper sat at the futon in the attic room, looking around at the modest space, Sonya sitting on the pink rug.
“I know, it’s not much,” she said. “But I had to move in a hurry.”
“I know what that’s like,” Bobby said. “By the way, Rick came back. I was there alone...”
Bobby went on to tell about Rick seeing Piper in the parking lot at the bookstore, and how the Blue Diamonds seem to know the identity of the Ravisher. “I asked Rick why the Diamonds would even care, and all he told me was that some guy named Donut sent his cousin up from Florida to do the hit on the Ravisher. Rick also thinks the Ravisher has something to do with the girls who were found in the lake.”
“I found some articles in the Press about the floaters.” Sonya opened the folder in her lap, taking out the copied articles. “I also found some about Justine and when Kyle’s baby sister died.”
Piper and Bobby looked over the articles, passing the papers back and forth.
“How is any of this getting you closer to the Ravisher?” Piper asked.
“Garcia has access to files and witnesses who would never speak to me,” Sonya said. “I’m lucky Kristen calls me. The fact that Garcia is going to question Trey and Kyle doesn’t surprise me, because they did work for Lister—”
“But Trey Winstead is not necessarily the Ravisher.”
“Only if Garcia can connect Trey to the victims somehow. Kristen saw Trey Winstead at church, but Jess and Emily have never met him.”
“What about the names on the FriendsRing lists?”
“Garcia is looking into that, too. But I don’t think the answer is there.”
“If Trey and Kyle have alibis, then Garcia will be back to the beginning. The curfew will have to be enforced.”
“Does the curfew apply to boys, too?” Bobby asked.
“No,” Sonya said. “I read in the Press that girls between the ages of fourteen and seventeen have to be with an adult after six o’clock until nine in the morning. If any girl is found alone, they’re taken into custody until the parents are found.”
“Nine o’clock? What if they have to catch the bus?”
“An adult has to be present or the girls get a ride.”
“The one thing I’ve noticed,” Piper said, “is that the Ravisher hasn’t waited more than a week between victims. Emily’s attack was last Saturday.”
“He reads the paper, he must know about the curfew. And the police will probably encourage Cal to write about the attacks, to ma
ke the Ravisher pay attention. He’ll start to get cocky and make a mistake.”
“Can you imagine Trey Winstead as the Ravisher?” Bobby asked.
Sonya shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never spoken to the guy. He takes Kyle to work and drops him off at home. That’s it.”
“Does he look mean?”
“No.”
“And Kyle?”
“He’s cute.”
“Are they friends?” Piper asked.
“Trey helped him work on his car. Kyle mentioned something about Trey owing him a favor...”
“They both worked together at Whispering Pines. Kyle caught Trey peeping, and told Tony, maybe even their boss. Trey quits his job. But later, they’re working at Metal Concepts together, and Trey is giving Kyle a ride to work every night? Is that the favor?”
“Maybe Trey decided to forgive and forget,” Bobby said.
“Yeah. Guys are like that,” Piper said.
Bobby did not miss the sarcasm in her voice. “So what are you going to do after six at night? Sexting that Ariel person?”
“You can hang out with me at my house.”
“Thanks. It’s been quiet without Rick around.”
“Where is he staying now?” Sonya asked.
“With some friends at the trailer park. A Diamond named Shawn.”
“Does he have long brown hair?” Piper asked.
“I don’t know.”
“The guy I saw with Rick had long brown hair past his waist.”
“I think I met him at Barb’s house,” Sonya said.
“Do you think you could go with me out to Ashley’s place tomorrow?” Bobby asked.
Sonya nodded. “Do you want to meet here or at your place?”
“My place. We can take the scooter to Ashley’s.”
“My dad can give me a ride.”
*****
Aron did not want Sonya to be alone in the house, so she rode out with them to Ernie Shafer’s farm, almost ten miles north.
Aron turned left on to a dirt road, fall leaves blowing over the fields of tall corn stalks. A fat harvest moon glowed in the sky, heavy clouds floating by.
Bill rolled the window down. “I can smell it.”
“Smell what?” Sonya asked.
“Wet weed.”
“Smells like burning dog hair,” Aron said.
Sonya was sitting between Aron and Bill, Helga left at home. Sonya detected the heavy odor in the night air, something rotten. “Yeah, it stinks.”
“Ernie has crops out here,” Bill said. “One of these days, helicopters are going to land.”