Killer Dreams Ch. 66 - Conclusion

The lights of my unmarked car showed the tire tracks leading in. I followed them through the trees, the driveway curving until I reached the clearing. The old farmhouse had a deep porch with a hanging swing and a one-car attached garage. A dim light was on inside the home, probably from the kitchen in the back. The tire tracks and footprints went straight into the garage. Since there was no sign of anyone turning around, the car was probably still in there.

I stopped my Ford Explorer before the closed garage door and grabbed my flashlight. The walkway hadn't been shoveled since the weekend storm, and my boots crunched on the cold snow. I carefully walked up the wooden stairs to the front porch. No automatic lights came on, so I was using my flashlight.

I rang the doorbell, hearing the muffled sound of the chime. Almost immediately, I heard a woman screaming for help. I peeked through the curtains on the narrow side window and saw someone lying in the hallway. "Ten Delta, 10-33, officer needs assistance at my location. Responding to help call with one person down. Roll EMS and notify the Sheriff."

"All units, officer needs assistance, 1987 West Castle Danger Road."

I ignored the rest of the call as I considered my options. Going in alone was never a good idea. I had my Glock 22 out when the girl screamed again. "Fuck it," I said to myself. I used the butt of my pistol to break the side window, then reached inside to unlock the door. "SHERIFF'S DEPARTMENT! JENNIFER?"

"DOWN HERE! HELP ME!"

I kept my pistol at low ready as I cleared the front room and the office. I shined my flashlight into the open eye of a white male in the hallway. His left eye was gone, and he'd been stabbed multiple times in the neck. I saw blood spray on the wall and a pool of blood on the wooden floor. I checked for a pulse and found none. He was the kidnapper, and he was long dead. "Ten Delta to Dispatch, plain clothes officer in the house, heading for the basement. Suspect is down, 10-sixty-six." That was to notify the Coroner.

The basement door was partway open, blocked by the kidnapper's legs. The blood trail led down the stairs, so I carefully descended and cleared the room. "Detective Nordstrum," I told the girl huddled on the bloody mattress. "Was that guy the only one?"

"Yes. Is he dead?"

"Very." She covered her naked body with her hands, eyes wide and shaking. I saw a chain handcuffed to her ankle that kept her from moving far. "Let me get a blanket to cover you," I started to say.

"NO! Get me out of here!"

I took off my jacket and put it around her shoulders. She pulled it tight around her. The basement was cold enough to make her shiver. "All right. Help is coming, Jennifer." I tried not to look at her as I knelt to unlock the cuff. Her ankle was cut and swollen from the handcuffs, but most of the blood wasn't hers. I took off the cuff and tossed the chain away. "Can I carry you, or do you want to walk?"

"I walked down here, and I'll back walk out," she replied. I helped her stand up, then zipped up the coat. It was long enough to give her some modesty as the first backup unit arrived. "IN THE BASEMENT. WE FOUND HER," I yelled up. "Come on."

Her legs weren't steady, so I held her around the waist as she walked across to the stairs. We got near the top to where the body lay, and Jennifer stared at the dead body as more people arrived. I expected she might freeze up, but she kept going. "Take her to the living room," I said as she reached the top. One Deputy did that while I talked to the new arrivals. "Secure the house for Crime Scene," I said. "Nobody goes anywhere but the living room."

I walked to the living room, where Jennifer sat on a chair wrapped in an afghan. "Are you hurt? Other than your ankle?"

She looked embarrassed and looked at her hips. I knew what that meant. I wished I could bring that bastard back to life and kill him again. "How did you stop him?" I didn't use 'kill' because she'd done nothing wrong.

"After the first night, when he went upstairs, I spent hours working a nail out of the wall," she said defiantly. "When he came down in the morning, he tried to... He..."

I held her hand. "It's all right."

She shook her head. "It's never going to be all right." She took a deep breath. "I hid the nail in my hand until he got on top of me. I wrapped my legs and arm around him and poked his eye out. He screamed, and I stabbed him in the neck until he finally got loose. He went upstairs, and that's the last thing I heard from him."

"This was the morning after the kidnapping?"

She nodded. Jesus, she sat there for a day and a half with the dead guy upstairs! "You're a brave girl, Jennifer."

"I had to do something. I've read David's book, so I knew what would happen if I didn't find a way to stop him."

I did too. The book had thirteen days of rape before a brutal murder, but Jennifer found a way to make the sick fuck bleed out.

I kicked everyone else out of the room, telling them to shovel the walkway for the ambulance that had just arrived. Jennifer had finally stopped shivering, but she was far from ok. I gave her privacy as the two female EMTs came in to check her out.

I stepped into the office and called the Sheriff on his cell. "We found her, Sheriff. She's got a minor injury to her ankle, but he assaulted her at least once. I didn't push for details. The ambulance will take her soon."

"What about the kidnapper?"

"She killed him with a rusty nail yesterday morning, up close and personal. There's blood everywhere."

"Good for her. FBI and BCA Crime Scene are en route, so keep it locked down. I'll call her parents and have them meet her at the hospital."

"Thank you, sir. I have to go."

Jennifer was lying on the gurney, covered with blankets as they strapped her in. "Thank you for rescuing me," she told me as I picked up my jacket.

I put my hand on hers. "I'm sorry it took so long. I'll see you at the hospital."

She waved as they rolled her out the front door. I looked around the house as I considered how this could have ended. Jennifer was brave and resourceful, but what if I hadn't come here? Some of these places wouldn't see occupants until May. She could have starved to death or died from hypothermia.

I walked outside and made a call. "David? It's Detective Nordstrum. We found Jennifer alive at one of the houses on your list. Your list saved her life."

Chapter 69

David Hardin's POV

Lake View Hospital, Two Harbors

Thursday, February 2, 2023

"I guess the media found out," I growled as I drove my red Acura MDX into the parking lot. It was just after eight at night and dark under a cloudy sky. Three stations had their vans here, with bright lights illuminating the reporters bringing the story live.

"I expected it when they weren't in front of our house," Talia responded. "Vultures."

Cops didn't like the press. My disgust for them increased exponentially during my time as a murder suspect. "I'll talk to her parents about managing the press. We might need to loan them Gerald Costley for a while. He's good at this stuff." I pulled into a parking space in the dark lot and got out. I helped Talia out, then clipped the short leash to Rocky's harness. As a service dog, he could go inside the hospital with her.

The reporters recognized us, and a few rushed over with questions. "No comment," I said as we pushed our way through to the door. The local police stopped us at the Emergency Room entrance, but Detective Nordstrum waved us through. "How is she doing," I asked as the doors closed behind us.

"Physically, not too bad," he told us. "The doctors are examining her now, and her parents are with her."

Talia got close and whispered, "Was she raped?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "The nurse will take the rape kit, and they'll give her a morning-after pill and test for STDs."

Anger boiled in me as I thought about what she'd had to endure. My dreams had been vivid and detailed. "Any chance that asshole gets out of jail again?"

"He's dead, David. Jennifer stabbed his carotid artery, and he bled out in front of her."

"Good." I'd seen too much as a cop to believe rehabilitation of sexual predators was possible. The only advantage of his staying alive was knowing what would happen to him in prison. Child rapists were the lowest of the low.

"More mental trauma to deal with," Talia added. "Poor kid. Have you interviewed her?"

He shook his head. "I got a few details at the house before the ambulance took her away. You know the procedure now. We can't talk to her until the doctors say she is ready."

We all turned to the doors leading to the exam rooms when they opened. Jennifer's father came out, and I recognized the mix of emotions on his face. Alan was happy to have his girl back, crushed by what she'd gone through, and guilty for letting it happen. "Thank you," he said as Talia moved to embrace him. "Thank you for getting her back."

"How is she doing?"

"They kicked me out so they could do the rape exam," he growled. "Brenda is with her. Emotions are all over the place, and Jennifer is barely holding on."

The Detective nodded. "She did well at the house, but everything hits you hard once when the adrenaline wears off. She'll talk to a women's crisis counselor, and the hospital will have a specialist see her."

"They are holding her overnight for observation and for that," Alan said. "Her ankle will be fine in a few weeks. The guilt and shame will last a lot longer." He let out a breath.

"She needs you and her mother as emotional anchors," Talia said. "I have a lot of experience with this from my time in Saint Paul. If you ever need to talk to someone about it?"

"Thank you."

"I have to interview her about what happened," Detective Nordstrum said. "It's better if you and your wife are not in the room during that. Let her tell you about it when she's ready to share it."

"I don't know how you'll keep her calm," Alan objected.

"Take Rocky in with you," Talia replied. "He's a registered therapy dog, and they have a relationship. He'll keep her grounded while you get her statement."

Brenda came through the door then, accompanied by a doctor. "Detective, she's ready to make a statement. We'll be monitoring her vitals from the nurse's desk, and I'll stop it if she gets too worked up."

Talia handed over the lead. "Any objection to bringing Rocky in to help? They are good friends."

Rocky was wearing his service vest, so hospital policy allowed it. Detective Nordstrum walked off with the Border Collie while we found a place to sit in the waiting room. Brenda looked like she'd been through the wringer, and Alan wasn't much better. "What happens to her now," Brenda asked.

"Since her injuries aren't severe, they'll transfer her to a room. They will probably sedate her to help her rest without nightmares," Talia replied. "You can return for visiting hours in the morning. She'll talk to a staff psychologist and a counselor from the rape crisis center in Duluth. She's going to need help to recover from this."

"Can you ever truly recover," Brenda asked quietly.

"Nothing will ever be the same," Talia answered. "It will be worse for Jennifer because of the press coverage. What happened will leak out, and it will follow her forever."

"You have to protect Jennifer from the press," I told them. "They won't leave you alone, but you should release a statement tonight."

"Like what?"

"Thanking people for their prayers, thanking law enforcement for getting her back, and asking for privacy as your family recovers. I can write something up if you want."

"You are the writer," Alan said with a hint of a smile. "I'll never understand how your dreams work, but I'm so grateful you found her in time. She might have died in that basement before anyone realized she was there."

I wrote the script before he walked out to see the press. Talia and I stayed behind the two as Alan read it to the cameras. When he finished, he refused questions and walked inside with Brenda. The reporters started shouting at me next. "Mr. Hardin, do you feel any responsibility for the death and suffering your books have caused?"

Talia squeezed my hand and tried to pull me away, but I turned to face the cameras. "Had I known that people would try to recreate the events in my novels, I would never have released them. No fiction author thinks that way, though. I tried to make my mysteries realistic because it makes for a good read. My fans love them, and they are the ones I owe my success and my loyalty. That said, responsibility for the crimes is with the killers alone."

"Isn't it irresponsible to continue writing these murder mysteries considering what happens after they are published?"

"You'll have to decide that for yourself when my next book gets released." I answered a few more questions, then stared at one of the more aggressive reporters. "The victim in this crime is a minor. You may learn details about her ordeal that no one needs to know. It would be irresponsible of you to cause her more damage than her kidnapper already has. The story is over now. She's safe, and he's dead. Case closed, so go home." With that, I turned and walked through the doors again. "Too harsh?"

"Not possible," Talia said. "Nice touch about your next book. Valerie will be happy."

I bet my editor would be. "She's already bugging me for the rough draft. Screw it. I'll make it a love story."

Talia laughed at that. "Different reader base," she told me. "Successful authors know enough to stay in their lanes, bro."

I helped her sit down, as all the standing made her back sore. I rubbed it while we waited. It took another thirty minutes for the Detective to leave and her parents to go back in. We were at the end of the ten-o-clock news when they came through the doors with Rocky. "She's been moved to a private room and is asleep," Alan said as he handed the leash over. "Thank you. Rocky helped a lot."

"You can borrow him as much as she needs," Talia replied.

"Bring him in the morning. Visiting hours start at eight," he answered. "They expect to discharge Jennifer before lunch."

I helped Talia to her feet, and Rocky came to her side. "Can I ride home with them," she asked. "I'd like to offer some advice on how you can help Jennifer recover from this."

"Absolutely," Brenda replied. The camera crews were leaving now that their live shots for the news were over, so we weren't harassed leaving.

I walked Talia to the Parson's car, then took Rocky to mine. I gave him a good scratch after taking his leash off. "You did a good job today, buddy." His tail whapped against the leather seat as I put the car in gear. "I may have to loan you out for a few weeks. Whatever it takes, we will do."

As we drove home, I kept thinking about my dreams. Talia was right in that they let me change a violent end for someone close to me.

It was a powerful tool, but not something I wanted.

Chapter 70

Jennifer Parson's POV

Twin Harbors High School

Thursday, March 9, 2023

"I'd like to nail her," a boy in the crowd said, just loud enough to hear as I moved through the crowded hallway to my locker. I shivered and kept moving.

"No way, she might nail you back," another boy teased as they walked off.

Connie slid over to me, covering my back as I dialed the combination on my locker. "Ignore them. Fucking senior douchebags," she bitched.

I couldn't, of course. The teasing and harassment had slowed since I returned to school two weeks ago, but it was constant. I left social media and changed my phone number to one only my family knew, but it wasn't enough. Someone put my new number on the Web, and my texts blew up. The messages varied widely, from threats and creepy guys to marriage proposals and support. That's what happens when everyone knows you were kidnapped and raped before killing the guy with a rusty nail.

I was tied to that sick fuck forever. My attacker recorded the events in the 'basement,' and someone leaked it. Child pornography laws kept them from showing my body, but only Western websites blurred out my body. If you looked, you could find the originals on some Eastern European or Vietnamese websites.

My anger distracted me, and I banged the front of the locker door when it didn't open. I took a breath and tried again. "Things will never be the same."

"At least we can get away for a while. Thank God my mom agreed to let me go!"

"Don't say anything more here," I said. The last thing I needed was the press or the Internet to find out where we were going for Spring Break. I didn't want paparazzi or videos of me ending up on social media. "One more class." We left all our books behind, taking our jackets so I could go straight to Mom's car after the bell.

I couldn't handle riding the bus now.

Social Studies was the best class of my day. My hockey teammates surrounded me, and the teacher didn't allow side discussions or phones. She even let us leave a few minutes early. We made it outside before the bell and ran to Mom's car. We jumped in the back so we could sit with Rocky. "How was your day, honey?"

I shrugged as I petted 'my' service dog. I still had nightmares every night, and I jumped at every noise. Little things could trigger a panic attack, and Rocky could help me through them. Talia said I needed him more than she did right now, and she was loaning him to me for the trip. "There are still jerks out there, but today they weren't as obvious."

"Connie?"

My best friend grabbed my hand. "I'm glad Spring Break is here." Her tone of voice said more than her words.

"Are you guys excited about dinner?"

"That's for you old people," I said with a grin.

Mom shot me a look in the rear-view mirror. "Be nice, Jennifer," she warned.

"It will be fine. Everyone invited helped find me, so I'm glad I can thank them all in person."

We pulled up to David's house, and Mom dropped us off. Cars and trucks lined the drive already, including more than a few cop cars. "I'll be back at six. Be helpful!"

"Yes, Ma." Rocky led the way and ran inside when I opened the door. "We're here," I warned.

"In the kitchen," Talia replied. She was sitting with five other women at the table, cutting cooked chicken breasts and beef pieces into cubes. David had rearranged the living room, pushing back the couches and chairs to make room for three long tables and a bunch of folding chairs. A dozen people were in the living room drinking beer and talking while another crowd was out on the covered deck. "Don't take off your coats yet, girls."

The kitchen was full of food, some prepared, other things getting there. "I can't believe you're doing a booyah in March!"

"It's the best way to feed a big crowd, especially when people are coming and going all the time," Talia said.

"This is a tiny one compared to the ones we used to do," her Mom said. Fiona had moved up here to help with the last part of her pregnancy and the baby. "Fifteen pounds of beef shortribs and fifteen pounds of chicken is nothing." The ladies finished cubing the meat and scooped it into a big bowl. "Take this to the guys while we wash up, and don't fall."

Connie opened the door to the deck and followed me as I walked through. I headed to the crowd surrounding the host. David Hardin used a canoe paddle to stir a 20-gallon metal pot on a propane turkey fryer stand. Booyah is a thick soup made with meat, potatoes, cabbage and veggies, cooked since early morning and served with crusty rolls. David provided the Booyah and two kegs of beer. The guests were responsible for bringing side dishes and desserts that filled the kitchen and an extra table.

I recognized William, Talia's father, and a couple of others among the dozen or so men drinking beer and looking out over the lake. "I got your meat," I said without thinking, causing a few of them to laugh.