Robert Waggoner - John - The Senior Killer

Nancy took the opening and said with sarcasm dripping off her words, “I see Mr. Pratt your right hand is missing from the meeting. I was under the impression your dog traveled with you everywhere even to the men’s room.”

Brad never blinked an eye and said softly, “I had to leave him at home due to the fact there are only two FBI agents in my house and I thought it prudent he be there to protect them against an army of black birds or sea gulls.”

“Ok you two, that is enough of game playing. Let’s get down to business and Nancy explain to Brad what our plan is for the search for the serial killer.

Like the professional she was, she laid out a game plan that would knock the socks off an NFL football team. While she went on and on Brad looked this woman over from head to waist. Her light brown hair was done in a short cut but longer on one side giving the look of someone unbalanced. While talking she kept throwing the heavy side away from her smooth skin lightly done up with makeup. She wore green contacts making her eyes look younger than her forty plus years. A perky nose and a wide mouth gave her a nice look overall. She was dressed in a power suit and her long fingers were void of rings or nail polish. He noticed she had a death grip on her coffee cup as her knuckles were as white as her blouse. She had beautiful white teeth that were probably capped. She gave off her East Coast accent proudly and no doubt she was Ivy League educated. The vocabulary she was using suggested a background of law which wasn’t unusual for a special agent. Brad caught the last of her conversation as she was saying, “… and that will take place when I hit Seattle.”

The waiter came about that time and Brad ordered oatmeal and dry toast with a glass of orange juice. Nancy ordered poached eggs with an English muffin. The Director declined and said he must leave early to catch his plane for Washington. He packed up his briefcase and left not saying another word to either of them. Brad was left on his own with Nancy and thought it fitting he would leave her alone with him.

They ate in silence and he broke the ice by saying, “When are you leaving for Seattle?”

With a mouthful of toast she looked at him while she chewed and after swallowing and a sip of coffee said, “Right after breakfast. A plane is waiting for me and after I’m settled in I would like to see you in Seattle.”

Brad thought it would be a cold day in hell when he ran to her beckon call. He knew the time would come when this arrogant woman would be cut down to size. A field agent she wasn’t; a desk jockey she was. She was completely out of her realm and about to have a head on collision with reality. He finished up his oatmeal and with a smile left her sitting there. His car came up shortly and he tipped the guy and headed back home to his parent’s house. On the way home he thought she probably had never been left with a check in her life. However, he kept his promise to his wife and he was nice. His thoughts turned grim with the realization of their next encounter would be something he was dreading.

In a small town on the east side of the Cascade Mountains, John sat in his easy chair watching the first snow of the year float down on Wenatchee, Washington. He’d left Seattle with a new identity and a reliable used four wheel drive SUV. His luck was holding and he found a nice room with his own bathroom in a boarding house stocked with old people. Like a kid in a candy store he would take the winter to make a plan. For all that came to know him as Clyde Walker from Seattle recently retired from Boeing and looking for a small town to relax and enjoy life, he was accepted with open arms by Christmas. Folks said he was generous to a fault. They also said they were aware to be wary of strangers and they all gave him a wary eye until the holidays brought out the good will of the citizens of Wenatchee.

His disguise was rather simple as plastic inserts clipped to his molars enlarged his cheeks. Wireless glasses gave him the retired engineer look. A nose that was extended was closely nestled above a mustache of his own beard. A fake goatee closely trimmed completely hid his real self. John of average size at this time had a waist ban making him look on the chubby side. In the final analysis people when they saw his picture in the paper or on TV simply could not believe it was the same man who killed all those old people.

Back at the Round House Brad was briefed on the past doings of his team. Everyone was a little frustrated and relieved at the same time with the case. No new murders were a relief; frustration at not learning much new filled the house.

Brad told the team about special agent in charge Nancy Longstreet and her upcoming role as head of the FBI regarding the serial killer case. He conveniently left out the view of her personality except to his wife. For him, more important things were on the table than a personal squabble between agencies. Brad went on with his views and asked questions about the books.

Mike chipped in by saying, “I found one book that was interesting and it has a historical look at all of the presidents of the United States beginning with Washington.” He handed the book to Brad and said, “Look at the index where you see a list of the presidents. Move down to chapter sixteen and see where someone has filled in the bottom of the six with an ink pen. Now go to chapter sixteen and see the corner of the page has dog ears and not another page in the book has any dog ears visible.”

“What do make of this Mike,” asked Brad.

“I’ll be damned if I know, but maybe the number sixteen is significant in some way.”

Agent Jones added, “Letter ‘P” is the sixteenth in the alphabet. Maybe it is an old clue as the pig farm is history as we know it now. ’

“Hold on a minute,” said Wendy. “Abe Lincoln was our sixteenth president and maybe the clue is in his name. The letter “A” might be what he meant.”

“On the map of Washington there is Aberdeen on the coast west of Olympia,” Mike added while scanning the map.

“I will run a list of cities and towns that start with A,” Billy said as he ran to his computer.

Brad yelled at him to include Oregon in his list while he was at it. Brad went on to say, “Let’s assume he’s using the Dennis Radar letter writing of “Catch me if you can” and will start on the border with Canada with a “C.” Everyone sat thinking about this while Agent Jones had a map of Washington and connecting lines for a letter “C.”

Billy came back with a long list of towns and cities for Washington and Oregon. He said, “The computer is still working but I have one scenario; take a look at this,” he had taken a big sheet of paper and on a blank map of Washington marked three cities or towns that would form a letter “C.” The first city was Aberdeen located on the coast almost on top of the forty seventh parallel; up to Anacortes on the forty eight parallel; and on over to Arden on the same forty eighth parallel. Now all knew you could play this game many different ways, so when Brad told the group that what we needed were more discoveries of his intention to leave clues behind. What that meant was back to the books and the inventory from the kitchen. By now they had another list of items from the storage room, but Brad thought what was in the house gave them the best evidence of his plan with the copycat “Catch me if you can” letters.

Brad announced, as it was growing dark, he would go for a run. Company accepted if anyone cared to work up a sweat before dinner. Billy declined and left to inhale some more nicotine; Sujin stayed to fix dinner; and the others all left to run except Mike who stayed to help Sujin.

In early December the weather usually has a few days of cold and clear. Frost is rare, but on occasion one can wake up to a frosty morning on the Oregon coast. The tide was out and no wind for a rare change. When the tide turned to come in then a wind would come with it. For now, the joggers enjoyed the quiet on the beach and the still air. Wendy couldn’t keep up yet, but was determined to get in shape. Twice a day she had been running and her legs and lungs ached from the effort. Tonight they had crossed the creek where it met the low tide so as not to get their feet too wet and ran south instead of north. As darkness fell and the moon rose to the east, the runner made their way back after an hour of running. Brad and Agent Jones were hardly out of breath walking back up the trail following Sandy. Wendy was huffing and puffing, but with thigh muscles burning she followed closely on the heels of the men.