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“He made her too uncomfortable. She refused. When she returned to her locker after the next period, she found blood all over her books. Then she heard that Dean had been sent to the hospital after slitting his wrists.”
Francesca tried to fit that into her impression of Dean. “How’d he get her locker combination?”
“He was so obsessed with her he’d stand in the hall and wait for her between classes. Sometimes, he’d seem lucid. Other times, he’d rock and mumble to himself. But he watched her so closely he probably learned the combination.”
The conflict Francesca felt over whether or not to continue this investigation suddenly grew by leaps and bounds. The culprit was somehow connected to that salvage yard. She felt it in her bones. “Maybe you were getting to this, but Dean has schizoaffective disorder.”
“I’ve got his entire medical history. You still want it?”
Despite everything, she had to feel sorry for Butch’s brother-in-law. It wouldn’t be easy to deal with his problems. Neither would it be easy—especially since he was already suffering a mental handicap—to live with Butch. Had it twisted Dean? Made a killer out of him? She’d heard similar backgrounds attached to a number of serial killers. Dahmer, for instance, murdered to stop people from abandoning him and had been trying to figure out a way to preserve their bodies; he’d thought eating their flesh might satisfy that desire. “Of course I’d like it. Would you mind faxing it to the office?”
“I’ll send it along with the other stuff I’ve noted as soon as we hang up.”
“Great. Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate your help.” She wasn’t sure what to do with the information he’d uncovered, whether or not to use it herself or turn it over to the as-yet-unformed task force, but she was genuinely grateful for his research.
“One more thing,” he said.
She could tell by his voice that whatever he was about to reveal was important. “What’s that?”
“It’s about Dean.”
“Yes?”
“He worked at the post office for a brief period of time five years ago. As far as I can tell, it’s the only real job he’s ever held. I guess his parents know the postmaster or someone else who put in a good word for him, so he was given a shot at being gainfully employed.”
“I take it this arrangement didn’t work out?”
“No. While he was there, he got involved with a fellow employee, an older woman—older by fifteen years—named Sherrilyn Gators.”
“When you say involved…”
“They were lovers.”
“So it was serious.”
“It seemed to be leaning that way. They weren’t together all that long, only a few months, and yet Dean wanted to marry her. But Sherrilyn had three children, one of whom, a boy named Neal, was only a few years younger than Dean was. Neal didn’t like the idea of his mother as a cougar and began poking around and asking questions about his potential stepfather. Once he discovered that Dean had severe mental problems, he went to his mother and convinced her to end the relationship.”
“How did Dean react?”
“As you might expect. He was heartbroken, wouldn’t let it go. For months afterward, he peeped in their windows, left gifts at the door or in her car, called her constantly, followed her home from work.”
“He stalked her.”
“Basically. That behavior cost him his job.”
“Wasn’t he taking his meds?”
“Who knows? He was supposed to be on them.”
“Did she ever get a restraining order?”
“She did, but he went over to her place even after that, the last time with wine and flowers. Sherrilyn was too afraid to let him in, but—”
“Why do I have the feeling this doesn’t end well?”
“Because it doesn’t. When she refused, he threatened to kill her. Said he’d come back one night and kill the whole family, that he could get into the house anytime he wanted.”
Francesca slowly rose to her feet. “He threatened her life?”
