Steven James - Opening Moves

But in the end, truthfully, none of that really mattered. He would be linked to all of this anyway and his friends would think what they would think. He had no control over that. Maybe they’d understand, maybe not, but what mattered right now was making sure his fiancee was safe.

Go. Get this over with. Drop off Miriam’s body, call the number, get Adele back home, deal with the consequences later.

After one more moment of consideration, he drove to the tiny parking lot behind the hardware store, exited the van, walked around back, and removed his grandmother’s skinless remains.

31

Adele was almost awake.

Joshua adjusted the light he’d attached to the wall so that it shone directly at her face. Of course she was still blindfolded, but this way it would give him the light he needed.

The temperature was dropping, sending waves of shivers through his body. But the touch of the crisp air, along with his adrenaline and the tightening expectancy turned the shivers into rivers of secret, deep thrills. He’d never used drugs, but he felt like he was experiencing some sort of high right now.

It was still a little while before he expected the call from Carl that the skinned corpse had been left at the hardware store in Plainfield, but, just as with Colleen last night, Joshua had something in mind for the woman in front of him that had nothing to do with the message he’d written in the note he left behind.

No, with both Carl and Vincent, Joshua hadn’t been entirely forthright and honest about his intentions regarding the women they loved. But he justified the slight misrepresentation, the deceit, if you will, as necessary. Yesterday his goal had been to get the police and the news media thinking about Dahmer.

Today, Gein.

Tomorrow he would let the news sink in, and then on Wednesday, build to the final climax with the Oswalds.

Within forty-eight hours he would have the attention of everyone who mattered, and once that happened, he would finally take his place alongside the man he’d grown to so ardently admire.

Griffin would be the key to all of this. He’d be able to get him in touch with the Maneater-when the time was right. After all, he got the police tape from the homicide in Illinois. He had a source close to the crime.

Adele moaned weakly and Joshua’s heartbeat quickened. This was really what it was all about, wasn’t it? This feeling, this urge, this anticipation of the moment before it all begins.

Before.

It all.

Begins.

He fingered the four plastic ties and waited anxiously, anxiously, anxiously for her to be aware enough for the evening’s proceedings to get under way.

I found what I was looking for beside one of the metal posts supporting the chain-link fence.

A small section of the flexible fence material had been pulled loose. A drainage ditch ran alongside the fence here, and Ralph and I needed to scramble down to get to the makeshift opening, but after we did, I bent the loose section of fencing back to provide enough room for him to squeeze through.

It was a tight fit, but after he made it, I knew I could too. I lay on my back, he tugged the edge of the fence up from his side, and I squirmed through to join him.

Ralph motioned toward his radio. “I’ll keep this on. Talk to me if you find anything.”

“Ditto.”

We split up. He lumbered north toward the coal cars, I headed in the direction of the parking lot.

Considering the location of Hendrich’s residence, he wouldn’t have walked here from home. And taking into account the sparse public transportation routes in this part of town, I figured that if Bruce were here, he would have driven.

I hadn’t seen any vehicles in the parking lot, but there might be one hidden here in the yard, behind some train cars. Given the orientation of the tracks, the best place for someone to hide one was near a string of tanker cars not far from the parking lot.

Keeping an eye out for anyone else already in the yard, I made my way toward the tankers to see if Hendrich’s car might just be here.

Other than the low hum of late-afternoon traffic on I-94 and the crunch of the gravel underfoot, the train yard was quiet.

I saw no tire tracks or sole impressions on the uneven scrubbing of snow, although some stretches of the yard had only enough snow to fill in the space between the gravel, so it wouldn’t have been possible to track prints very far anyway.

I was nearly to the tankers. I still hadn’t seen a vehicle.

When I looked beneath the train cars, hoping to catch sight of a car’s tires somewhere beyond them, the view was too obscured by a stretch of tall leaning grass on the other side to see much of anything.

Just as I was starting to think that this search for a vehicle might be a waste of time, I glimpsed what I was looking for. Only the hood at first, but as I proceeded, the rest of the sedan came into view.

A Ford Taurus.

I hustled toward it, felt the hood.

Still warm.

In this weather, that meant that whoever had driven it here had to have arrived recently and the engine must have been running for quite a while to get the hood that warm.

I didn’t know if it was Hendrich’s car or not, but in either case, unless there was a way out of the yard that Ralph and I didn’t know about, someone else was in here with us.

I radioed in the plates as I jogged over and inspected the gate. The keyed padlock and chain were shiny and new.

Scrutinizing the train yard, I still saw no movement.

Even though a dusting of snow was kicked up around the car, there wasn’t enough for me to determine which direction the driver might have gone after exiting the vehicle.

Mainly it was the snow behind the car that was trampled.

Last night Colleen’s abductor transported her in the trunk of a sedan.

My heartbeat quickened.

He has someone, Pat. He’s here.

I radioed Ralph and told him what I’d found.

Anticipating that whoever had left the car wouldn’t have walked back toward the parking lot, but would’ve likely headed toward a boxcar or freight car where he could work unseen, I followed the path toward the string of boxcars, then kept going past the place where Ralph and I had entered beneath the fence.

Just to my left were the hulking, abandoned freight and boxcars. To my right, the ditch sloped down toward the perimeter fence and the darkening woods that spread out of sight.

Glancing around, I could tell that I’d been correct earlier when I guessed that this area was well hidden from view.

Yeah, this would definitely be the place to bring someone.

I knelt and scanned the tracks again, looking for movement, for signs of anyone walking on the other side of the rusted and long-abandoned boxcars beside me.

Still nothing.

If someone exchanged that lock at the main gate, he might have exchanged others as well. Especially the one to the train car he’s using. Look for new locks, Pat. New chains.

There were a lot of cars to check and I needed to inspect the sliding doors on both sides, but new locks narrowed things down. It was a place to start.

Ralph’s voice came through my radio again: “Anything?”

“No. You?”

“Not yet. Where are you?”

“Near the fence,” I told him, “a hundred meters east of the parking lot. I’m checking the boxcars.”

“Roger that. Keep me posted.”

“Ten-four.”

Then I went back to work looking for bad guys. Bodies. Clues. The usual.

Or in this case, anything that might be unusual.

Like new locks on old boxcar doors.

Carl entered his friend Rennie Stillwells’s tavern just down the street from the hardware store. Rennie wouldn’t officially open until five, but all the guys from the Wednesday-night poker crew knew he was always there by three.