ONE TOO MANY - ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILE #9 Read online

  One thing she knew was that she was going to have to get away or she would end up like Alyssa. Alyssa was not exactly a close friend but now she had a different feeling for her. She knew she must have gone through the same thing.

  She had come up with a plan. If it worked she just might be able to get out of this alive. If it failed, he would probably kill her. He was going to one way or the other anyway so she had decided to take the chance.

  Once he was gone she went to the toilet and took the lid off. She unscrewed the float bulb and removed the wire arm that held the bulb. She began rubbing it back and forth on the floor. She wanted to get a sharp point on the end of it. She had decided she would try and bend the other end so she had a handle and she would use a strip from the dress he had made her wear to pad it.

  She would wait until he was just about finished with her and then would make her move. She knew she would have only one chance. She had decided that her best shot at making it work was to try for his eye.

  She even practiced from the position he seemed to favor. If she timed it just right she could stab him before he even saw it coming. She would then run out the door and either lock it if possible or just take off running. She knew she couldn’t even take time to guess which way to run. She just had to run as fast and far as she could. If he caught her she knew he would kill her.

  TWENTY-ONE

  “Mr. I’M TOO COOL Bailer checks out from my end,” Dan said.

  to just haul off and knock into next week.”

  “It’s his parents. They never taught him any respect. Kids today think even cops are beneath them. You can tell the ones that have good parents from the ones that don’t.”

  “It almost always comes down to that doesn’t it?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Bartoni, Roberts, my office,” McGregor said as he walked by.

  “Now what?”

  I just shrugged.

  We went in and he told Dan to close the door.

  “Where are we on the two girls?”

  “No place really. We only had two leads and so far we have nothing on either of them. The boyfriend’s alibi checks out pretty closely. Eric is digging into Matt Baker’s background so we don’t have much on him either. You have my report on that visit,” I reminded him.

  He sat back and rubbed his eyes. He looked bone tired. I knew what was eating at him. He had two daughters that went to the same High School. They were both good looking girls and he was like any nervous dad.

  “Kayla is all over me on this. She is half afraid to send the girls to school. She won’t let them ride the bus or go with anyone else,” he finally said.

  “Sorry boss. I wish we had more but we simply haven’t caught a break. The lab is going over Heather Armstrong’s car right now. Maybe they will come up with something. And we have Eric looking into Matthew Baker’s background. Hopefully something will shake loose.”

  He sighed heavily. McGregor hardly ever put any pressure on Dan and me unless it was coming down from above. This was coming from a different direction. Obviously his wife was beating him up over this and he needed us to come up with some answers.

  “I know you aren’t dogging it but it seems like we should have found something by now.”

  “I agree but we haven’t.”

  “Alright guys. Keep plugging away. Obviously if you need more people, let me know.”

  “Thanks. We are just waiting for the reports now.”

  When we left I felt really bad for him. I know I would be very concerned as a parent of two nice looking teenage high school girls.

  **

  We were just about to call it a night when Eric came rushing over to my desk all excited. Eric and excited don’t usually go together but here he was, waving a bunch of papers at me.

  “Look at this guys,” he said putting them down on my desk.

  Dan came around to look at the material as well.

  “First of all, he has a juvenile record. It’s sealed but...never mind, you don’t need to know. Seems as a kid he liked to torture cats and dogs. They found twelve cats and six dogs buried in his parent’s back yard. He admitted to doing it and they sent him for counseling. A year later he shot a farmer’s cow thirty-five times. Still a juvenile, he was sent for further counseling. This all took place in Marion, Indiana.”

  “Obviously counseling didn’t do much good,” I said.

  “Actually it got worse. He was expelled from school for beating up a girl in his class. His parents were sued and it was later settled out of court. Two years later at the age of sixteen he was arrested for tying up one of the neighbor girls and threatening her with a knife. Only her screams saved her. This time he was sent to Juvenile Detention for one year.”

  “Man this guy was headed down the wrong road way back then,” Dan replied.

  “Not only that, but he was becoming more aggressive. I mean tying up a girl and wanting to use a knife on her, that’s pretty serious stuff,” I said

  “Wait, it gets better or worse depending upon your view,” Eric told us.

  “When he was seventeen, just two months after he got out of detention, he tried to set the house that the same girl lived in, on fire. The case was eventually dropped for lack of sufficient evidence but the report from the arresting officer makes a pretty compelling case for Matthew being the person responsible.”

  “Another escalation,” I said.

  “He left home at eighteen and joined the Army. He was stationed in Germany but received a dishonorable discharge for beating up a German girl off base. The MP’s were able to get to him first and they sent him back to the US before Germany could get their hands on him.”

  “This guy is a train wreck,” Dan replied.

  “Did he move back home?” I asked.

  “Only for a short time from what I can gather from reading between the lines. He next shows up in Texas. Now the interesting thing is, I did some crosschecking and guess what?”

  “Some girls disappeared or were murdered during the same time frame,” I said.

  “Bingo. Three high school girls were abducted and later found murdered.”

  “So he moved on?”

  “California.”

  “And the same pattern repeated?” I asked.

  “Exactly, except for the number. It was up to five in California. Next was Reno, Nevada. Seven high school girls missing and later found murdered.”

  “How many other states?” I asked.

  “A total of nine. Indiana is his tenth state.”

  “How many girls total?” Dan asked.

  “The count is fifty-six not including the latest one that is missing.”

  “Fifty-six?” I exclaimed.

  We were talking about a prolific serial killer. That also meant he was just getting started here. While it didn’t give us the proof we needed, he certainly hit the top of our charts.

  **

  To ease McGregor’s impending pain, I had brought along six jelly filled donuts. They were his favorite kind with raspberry filling.

  “Here boss, I brought you a little present.”

  He looked at the donuts and then at me and back to the donuts.

  “Uh-oh. The question is why?”

  “Because we have some new news on the case.”

  “New news. And is this good or bad news?”

  “Hummm. I would say a little of both.”

  “Then get to it,” he said opening the box and taking out one of the donuts like it was a precious piece of glass.

  “As you know, we had Eric do some digging on Matthew Baker and he hit real pay dirt. Actually I guess you could call it huge.

  “Eric found his confession on Facebook?”

  “Not quite so simple but this is what he did find,” I said giving him a summary of what Eric has supplied.

  I could see him scanning it at first and then stop and start reading it carefully. He took his time and even put on his reading glasses which he hardly ever does in front of us. Ano
ther vain man I guess.

  “Holy smolly. Are you telling me this guy could be a serial killer of fifty-six young women?” he said, taking off his glasses.

  “Well you see the problem. I mean yes he was in those locations during the times but there is absolutely nothing to link him to the murders.”

  “But how can that be?” McGregor said scratching his rapidly thinning hair.

  “To add to that, I had Eric check on the periods both before and after he moved to those places. As you can probably already guess, the abductions and murders started when he arrived and stopped immediately after he moved.

  “You know what this means,” he said.

  “I know and you know but let’s just keep it like that,” I said.

  “Bartoni this should be turned over to the FBI immediately,” he insisted.

  “Boss don’t. We can’t prove any of that. It’s totally circumstantial. It could be a coincidence.”

  “Don’t give me that crap. You have never believed in coincidence in your life,” he said tossing the stack of papers on his desk.

  “Okay, I’ll give you that but we can’t say with any real certainty that he is the guy doing all of this,” I argued.

  “And if he closes up shop and just takes off to some other state, then what?”

  Well that was a fine pickle. Then what indeed? Let him go on killing young girls because I didn’t want the Feds involved?

  “How about this. Give us another two weeks. If we can’t break this case open and get the arrest then you call in the Feds and give them what we have discovered and see if they are even interested. If they are and want to come in and take over the case I won’t say a word. If he should bolt before then we can still call the Feds and tell them what we have. Then they can track him down,” I threw out.

  I didn’t really have a lot of hope of that suggestion flying but it was the only thing I could come up with on the spot.

  He scratched the back of his neck. I could almost hear the wheels turning. They sounded a little rusty but I decided this may not be the best time to interject levity into the conversation. Not if I wanted the two weeks.

  “Alright Bartoni. It’s against my better judgment but I will give you exactly two weeks. If you can’t take him down in that time, I turn everything over to the FBI. You know I should be doing that anyway but since you brought me the donut, that buys you two weeks,” he said.

  “Thanks captain. If there is a way we will get this bastard,” I told him.

  “Okay, now get out. I have some work to do,” he said picking up another donut.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The phone rang at the Armstrong house at 2:00 a.m.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, who could be calling at this time of the morning?” and as soon as he said it he realized it could be the police saying they had found his daughter.

  He ran to the phone and almost pulled it off the wall.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Monty Armstrong?”

  “Yes. Who is calling?”

  “That doesn’t really matter. Heather asked me to call you. I don’t usually do that but she has been such a joy and she wanted me to tell you she was being treated well and was having a very good time.”

  “She is alive?” Monty asked.

  “Oh indeed, very much so.”

  “Can I talk to her?”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Now you go back to bed. If she continues to do as I ask of her, then you will get her back just a little the worse for wear,” he said laughing.

  “Please. She is all we have.”

  “No Mr. Armstrong. She is what I have,” he said and hung up.

  “Hello, Hello. Please,” he said into the receiver but all he got was the dial tone.

  He immediately dialed 911 and told them what had just happened. The operator told him she wasn’t sure that was considered an emergency but he persisted until it was put through to the detective’s branch. Only one person was there but they gave him Angie’s number.

  **

  “Detective Bartoni. I know it’s very early but we just got a phone call from someone saying Heather was alive and that he has her,” he said, the words rushing out of his mouth.

  “Hold it. Who called?”

  “He didn’t say. Just that Heather was alive and he would return her when he was done with her.”

  I didn’t like the sound of ‘when he was done with her’ but I didn’t say anything. He had enough stress for now.

  “Alright. I’m on my way to your house right now. I’ll get people cracking on finding out where the phone call originated. Just hang tight. If a patrol car gets there before me, tell them I’m on my way,” I told him.

  “Oh thank you. Thank you,” he said.

  “Just hang in there,” I said, throwing off my covers.

  I grabbed my pants, threw on a blouse and gathered my gun. I looked in the mirror but decided heck with it, well maybe one little fluff or two and I jumped into my Healy.

  At this time of the night, or morning as it were, it only took me fifteen minutes to get to his house. I did run a couple of red lights but I considered this a definite emergency. Two patrol cars were sitting across the drive with their lights flashing. A few neighbors were out on their porches rubbernecking.

  I went up to the house and Mr. Armstrong let me in.

  “Sorry to wake you up in the middle of the night,” were the first words out of his mouth.

  “It’s not a problem. Please tell me what he said. As much as you can remember. Also I want you to really think. Could you hear anything in the background? A train, traffic, planes? Anything that you could have heard may be an important clue.”

  “Okay,” he said taking a deep breath.

  I had him sit down on the couch and close his eyes.

  “Just relax. Take a few deep breaths and tell me what the first thing he said was. Any sounds before he spoke or while he was speaking.”

  He went through with as much detail as he could. He did hear a dog barking someplace but nothing else that he could remember. No music or other noises. It wasn’t much help.

  While I was there, my cell phone rang and I was told the call originated from Beech Grove. Beech Grove is a suburb of Indianapolis. I called central and had them dispatch cars to that location. I advised them not to touch the phone if they found one. If they did, they were to call in CSI and have them dust it.

  I sat and talked with Monty and his frail wife, Martha, trying to calm them down. It’s hard. You don’t want to lie but telling the truth without all the facts isn’t such a good idea either. I praised Monty for his quick thinking and insisting that they contact me. It seemed to make him feel a little better. At least I think it did.

  My cell phone chirped again.

  “We have a possible phone in a convenience store. I’m headed that way. We will keep you informed of anything we find. CSI is already on the scene and dusting for prints,” I told the parents and made a hasty exit.

  When I got here CIS was just wrapping up. The phone had been totally wiped down. Whoever made the call had made sure no prints of any kind were left on it. I had been pretty psyched on the way over but now it was a total let down.

  All I could say was, “Thanks guys for coming out so quickly.”

  “Hey no problem for you sweet cheeks,” one of the guys said.

  Now normally I would have ripped him a new one for that but at 3:36 a.m. I just let it slide. It seemed to take forever to get back home and once I did I knew there was no way I would ever get back to sleep.

  I took a hot shower and tried to fool myself that that made all the difference. It didn’t.

  TWENTY-THREE

  “Do you have a plan?” Dan asked.

  “Yeah. We are going to sit on him from the minute he leaves work until he gets home. We’re going to track his every move and use the recordings from the GPS to verify his routes and destinations. I know it will be a hell of a lot of long hours but we can take it easy duri
ng the day while he is at work,” I told him.

  “So you think he goes someplace else instead of going straight home,” Dan replied.

  “Dan, I would bet money on it.”

  “Well, it’s worth a shot.”

  “Let’s go by his workplace and check out how many ways he can leave and decide where we can watch from,” I suggested.

  “Great. You drive. I want to check out my new cell phone.”

  “Oh for heaven sakes, boys and their toys! What did that thing set you back?”

  “It was just two-hundred and seventy-nine on sale.”

  “And I thought my forty-nine dollar one was too expensive,” I sighed.

  Matthew Baker worked at a printing shop just off of 86th street in a large industrial park. I assumed they did a huge volume because they had two semi-truck bay doors.

  “That’s his van,” I said pointing it out to Dan.

  “Kind of a unique color for a delivery van. Most are just plain white,” he pointed out.

  “Lots of cars back in here,” I told him.

  “Lots of exits as well. We are going to have to keep a sharp lookout or he will slip through our fingers.”

  “And we can’t let him know we are on to him or he will just kill the girl and move on.”

  “If she really is still alive,” Dan said.

  “I think she must be for two reasons. He has never made a call like that before as far as we can determine and someone else would have disappeared by now.”

  “If this Baker guy really is the one doing all of this, I really, really want to nail his butt to the wall,” Dan stated.

  “If it is him that is exactly what we will do.”

  **

  We were sitting in the car just half a block from his work place. It had semi-trucks coming and going a great deal of the time but usually they only blocked our view for a few seconds as they backed into the bay area.

  I wanted to get someplace where we had a better view of the van but we would have stuck out like a sore thumb sitting right across from him. Our cover would have been blown right away. It wasn’t great but it was the best we could do.