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“We’re only assuming Axman killed these people. The slave trade we discussed is always an option.” Kane’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “Has Wolfe given a cause of death for Mrs. Palmer?”
“Not yet.” Jenna leaned on the desk, palms flat, and stared at Kane. “Sure, we might find bodies of people who died of natural causes after the melt but Ella Tate’s statement and the amount of blood we found gives me cause to believe at least Sky suffered considerable injury by an ax-wielding man.” She straightened. “So yes, until one of these people walks into my office, alive and well, we’re looking for bodies.” She went back to the whiteboard. “Rowley, what would be the best place to dispose of a vehicle in the immediate area of the kidnapping?”
“The area he seems to be stalking is mainly industrial.” Rowley filled his cup and his brow wrinkled in concentration. “There are masses of old shafts left from goldmines. They could be dumping grounds for both bodies and vehicles. Some shafts go down miles.” He took a cinnamon bun from the bag. “We already checked out the local junkyard. It was deserted.”
“It was on that day.” Kane gave Jenna a direct stare. “I’m convinced someone’s opened the gate since the night Sky disappeared. We can’t rule out the chance the Axman had an accomplice to dispose of her vehicle.”
Jenna made notes on the whiteboard. “That is a possibility but it’s easy enough to tow a car without a driver. The Axman would only need access to the yard and the knowledge to use the necessary machinery. Did you see a crusher at the recycling yard?”
“Yeah and a shredder, but he would need more than the key to the gate, we’re talking heavy-duty machinery here.” Kane reached into the bag for a cookie. “He would need keys and the skills to move the vehicle into the compactor using the electromagnet crane.” He shrugged. “Placing a body in the trunk of a car and crushing it is not new. It used to be quite popular body disposal back in the day.”
Jenna’s stomach clenched at the thought of using a crusher to dispose of a body. “Well, there’s no way he towed Sky’s truck out to a goldmine in a blizzard without leaving a trace. The snow was four foot deep in places. The recycling yard is a logical option and one of them is in the location of the kidnappings.”
After scanning the board, Jenna sat down. Now convinced they had a lunatic in the backcountry, she needed to step up the investigation before he struck again, but without evidence, she might as well be chasing her tail. She needed one simple clue to get the ball rolling. “Okay. I have a list of factories in the area on file. Rowley, chase down the owners and get me their numbers. Get me the names of anyone who might work during the shutdown.” She wrote on the board. “We’ll start with the junkyard. I’ll organize a search warrant, notify the owner to meet us on site and head out with Kane.” She moved her attention to Kane. “Call Wolfe. I want him along to search for trace evidence just in case the Axman crushed the bodies as well. We’ll use your truck, Kane; it’s safer in the snow. Can you get our gear together?”
“Sure.” Kane went to rise.
“Just a minute.” She chewed on her pen, thinking, for a few seconds. “If we assume the Axman is kidnapping and killing
these people and then crushing them in their vehicles, what type of crazy are we up against?”
“Without a body and cause of death, I can’t give you an accurate profile.” Kane shrugged. “I mean, there are the opportunistic killers. They murder because they like the adrenaline rush but the majority of them walk away from the kill site. A dead person is no more use to them than a soda can. Most of them don’t fully comprehend they’re doing anything wrong. In fact, in a few interviews I’ve listened to the murderers figured everyone kills—that it’s normal.” He leaned back and looked at her. “If this man is hiding his kills and their belongings, he plans the murders and chooses the victims for a reason. He is likely a sociopath, fully aware of what he’s doing and the consequences, but likely believes he’s so smart we’ll never catch him.”
Thirty-Four
The next time Doug opened his eyes and stared at the stark white ceiling, he realized with a jolt his situation was not a terrible dream. He swiped his tongue over dry, cracked lips and wiggled his toes. Although the burning sensation of a red-hot poker stabbed into his side, the heavy feeling in his limbs had eased. He lifted his arms, pushing the covers to one side, and attempted to rise. Agony seared through him on the right side as if a spear had gone through his body and was still sticking out his back. He looked down his bare chest and gingerly ran his fingers over the thick wad of dressing. What happened to me?
In a rush, his mind filled with the image of the hopeless expression of the young woman in the next bed. The doctor must have given her the same stupefying drug as they had given him. He would never forget how terrified Jim had made her. He punched the mattress in a fit of anger. No wonder her face was familiar! She was the one in the wreck. He had cradled her head in his lap in the back of Jim’s pickup. Jim had called the girl “Olivia” yet hadn’t mentioned knowing her at the time.
With care, he rolled to one side and tried to sit on the side of the bed. Agony flamed through him but he managed to drop both legs over the edge. He tugged out the catheter attached to him with disgust. The drip in his arm no doubt carried pain meds. Whatever drugs they had used on him before had gone way past pain relief; they’d turned him into a zombie.
The room moved in and out of focus and threatened to fold in at the edges. Long moments of nausea followed and he gripped the edge of the bed like a life preserver until the ebb and flow of his balance subsided. He wanted to speak to Olivia, then glanced down at his nakedness. The last thing she needed was to see a naked man approaching her bed. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he tugged at the blanket and fashioned a toga, then eased his feet onto the cold floor. Sweat covered his skin and dripped down his nose with the effort of taking one single step. The pain in his side seemed to crush his lungs, preventing an intake of breath.
He reached for the curtains around his bed and they opened with a swish of metal runners. The girl was staring at him and he placed one finger over his mouth to signal her to be quiet. He scanned the room, searching for any CCTV cameras, then dropped his voice to just above a whisper. It came out husky from his dry throat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. They had me on some strange drug, I couldn’t move.”
“I know. They pump that shit into us all the time.” She blinked at him. “I couldn’t do anything to stop him either.” Her bottom lip quivered and tears welled in her eyes. “It was terrible. I thought he was going to cut out my eye.”
Not sure what to say, Doug nodded. “I’m so sorry.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “We have to tell someone what’s happened.”
“Doctors can’t just drug people, tie them down and frighten them like that.” Olivia sniffed. “I hope we’re not in a psychiatric ward by mistake. I’ve heard of nurses doing all sorts of terrible things in those places.”
“I have no reason to be in one.” Doug eyed her cautiously. “Have you?”
“No.” Olivia blinked away tears. “I was driving home for the holidays with my mom and she wrecked the car. When I woke up, I thought I’d been hurt. Then he showed up and… well, you know the rest.” She let out a little sob.
The poor woman was terrified. “Nothing here makes sense. I can’t remember anything happening to me, yet I have a dressing on my side that hurts like hell.” Doug waved a hand toward the door. “How often do the doctors come by?”
“I’m pretty sure they’ve left for the day.” She indicated toward the beeping machine beside his bed. “Turn off your machine in case your increased heartbeat signals an alarm and get that needle out of your arm. The machine drugs us every four hours. I know because I heard them talking.” She looked at him wild-eyed. “They give me a different drug when that awful man comes to visit and I can’t move. He is a sick SOB and insists I’m tied to the bed and drugged.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I never know what he’s going to do next. It’s like he gets off on scaring me.”
“We have to go get help.” Horrified by her words, Doug turned and shuffled to the monitors and disabled all of them, then pulled off the wires attached to his chest. He removed his drip, then released Olivia from the restraints, noticing the way she shrank away from him. “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to get the hell out of here.” He stared at the door. “They don’t just leave us alone all night, do they?”
“I don’t think they care if we die.” She rubbed her wrists, then, as if making a decision, held out one trembling arm. “Can you take my needle out?”
He detached her drip and made her press down on the wound. “Have you told anyone what Jim is doing to you? That’s his name, isn’t it? I met him when we pulled you out the car wreck but I don’t know why I ended up in here.”
“Did you see the accident?” Her eyes became wide and fearful. “Is my mom okay?”
Doug swallowed hard, not sure what to tell her. He was only taking Jim’s word the woman had died. Rather than make the situation worse, he shrugged. “She went through the windshield. We had gotten you out the car, then I’m pretty darn sure Jim stuck me with a needle.” He looked at her tragic expression. “I don’t know for sure but my friend was there. She had my cellphone and my truck.”
