Chapter Twenty-Five

Tess watched as Michael slumped down onto the sofa, his head on one arm rest, his feet on the other. "I'm exhausted," he said and let out a long sigh.

She sat on the sofa beside him. "Tell me. What's exhausting you?"

He pulled her down for a quick kiss and then stroked her arm. "I met with Mickey today. He told me a horrific story about Rachel and the abuse she experienced as a child."

Tess frowned. "I knew she had a hard life but didn't know any details."

"This was more than hard. Based on what he told me, it was hell."

"Tell me," Tess said and settled in beside him. "Tell me what you can off the record, of course."

Michael exhaled as if the prospect was hard for him. Of course, he'd developed PTSD after dealing with child sexual abuse and murder and so she understood that another case of child sexual abuse would be difficult for him to deal with.

"If you don't want to talk about it, I understand," she said softly and laid her hand on his arm. "I know it's difficult for you."

He shook his head. "No, it's just tiring to hear story after story. I was so lucky to have grown up in a good family. It sometimes surprises me to face evidence of a bad one. How children survive is a miracle."

"They're resilient, at least, most of them. Some can't adapt. They turn to drugs and alcohol."

He nodded and told her about his trip to meet with Mickey. She listened with rapt attention as he detailed his trip to the donut store on Aurora, and how Mickey wanted to avoid him showing up at the bar.

"Sounds like she really was afraid of someone from her past," Tess said, lying down beside Michael and getting comfortable.

"She was," he said. "One thing Mickey was certain of was that Craig wasn't the kind of guy who could do this and that there were no problems that he knew of between them."

"How would Mickey know that?" she said doubtfully, even though she felt the same way from her own experience with Craig. "With a lot of couples, you have no idea until they break up or announce their divorce."

"You're right but I think he was pretty close with Rachel. He saw her as a kind of surrogate daughter. He's quite the character and has seen the rougher side of life, of people," Michael said. "I read up on him after the interview. His past is pretty storied. Army, biker gang, petty crime, major crime, then redemption, the mission," he said with a sigh. "He seemed really upset at what happened with Rachel's and Sadie's disappearance."

They lay in silence for a moment, both of them thinking about the case. Finally, she sat up.

"Hungry?"

He nodded. "I don't feel like cooking, but I sure could go for something hot. Kung Pao?"

"Sounds like just what the doctor ordered. And a beer," she added.

They drove to their favorite Chinese restaurant closer to downtown Seattle and were sitting at a table in the window, watching the pedestrians go by when Michael got a call on his cell.

"Hello, Michael Carter speaking," he said shifting his cell to his shoulder while he scooped some of the Kung Pao onto his plate.

His eyes widened and he glanced up at Tess.

"That's curious," he said and picked up the phone after putting the spoon down, his attention now focused on the call. He listened some more, his eyes on Tess. "Thanks for calling. I'll be in bright and early."

He ended the call and placed his cell down on the table.

"The ME identified one of the dead men in my case up near Silver Lake. It's a William Sutton from, get this -- Bellingham."

"Bellingham?" Tess said, her own eyes wide. "Where have I heard that mentioned before? Oh, right. You just mentioned it because Mickey mentioned it."

"Precisely," Michael said and sat looking at the dish of food in front of him. "One of the two murdered men was from Bellingham -- a place that has been identified by a witness as a place Rachel was linked to and people she feared. They identified Sutton from prints and dental work matches up. He's also on the national registry. Tier Three."

"Holy hell," Tess said. "I guess we were right about the filming equipment. They weren't just doing a video for their blog on hunting and fishing."

"Nope," he replied. "He's supposed to verify his address every ninety days. Was convicted of abduction and rape of a child under twelve and sentenced to prison. He was released about five years ago and has been complying with the terms of his parole -- at least with respect to reporting in. He was obviously breaking those terms, if our interpretation of the evidence at the scene was correct."

"Which was?" Tess asked, knowing Michael could only tell her so much.

"There were children's toys present. Girl's dolls, clothes. Like what a pedophile would use to lure a child or keep them amused." Michael shook his head. "Sick fucks."

Tess watched Michael's face as he poked at his food. She could see he'd lost his appetite by the way he pushed his food around on his plate.

"I know you're not in favor of the death penalty in general,” he said and glanced at her, “but sometimes you wonder if it wouldn't be the better option for some of these hard-core pedophiles. They're not going to change. Ever."

Tess nodded. "I might make an exception. These kinds of people screw up children for the rest of their lives. And they won't stop. It's just that we can't always catch them breaking the terms of their parole until after the fact."

She sighed and leaned back in the booth, her own appetite now gone. "It's good to have one ID on your victims, but it kind of tears at you. A convicted child kidnapper and rapist is murdered. Do you celebrate or feel a need to get justice for him?"

"Always justice," Michael said. "By finding out who did this, we might uncover even more crimes that we can close, and bring a murderer to justice."

Tess nodded. "You're right. Sometimes, I get so mad at the stuff I read about pedophiles that my sense of justice is temporarily dampened, but you're right. Even a creep like Sutton deserves justice, even if only to take his killer off the streets."

Michael pushed his plate away. "I've stuffed myself enough for now. Let's go get a couple of beers and go home."

"Lead on," she said and smiled, although she didn't really feel it. She found it hard to celebrate when there were murders and disappearances that demanded to be investigated, murderers brought to justice.


The next day, she and Michael got up and went for a run before Michael showered and ate his breakfast, intending on getting to the DA's office early. Tess planned on going in to the Sentinel to work on her articles. She had a meeting with Kate to talk about the most recent article on Paradise Hill, which focused on how police in the local department, especially Chief Joe, had missed the serial killer under their noses.

She felt bad for the Chief and his wife. They must feel responsible in some way for Eugene, despite the fact that when they adopted him, the seeds of his psychopathy were already laid down. He was abused, physically and sexually, before age five and had likely inherited defective genes from his psychopath father Daryl. No matter how good of a home the two provided Eugene, they hadn't been able to overcome that early experience of abuse. If anything, Chief Joe would have made Eugene even more effective as a serial killer by feeding him tidbits of information about the cases, allowing Eugene to evade detection for decades.

Tess tried to be as objective as she could, but it was difficult. She had developed an affection for Chief Joe over her time in Paradise Hill and it made her sympathetic to him. She didn't want to write anything critical of him but neither did she want to whitewash the case. He was clearly blinded by his family ties to Eugene and didn't catch the signs that his adopted son was a psychopathic serial child killer.

Most people didn't figure out they had a serial killer under their nose until they read about it in the news.

"What are your plans for the day?" Michael asked as he poured his thermos of coffee. "More work on the article?"

"I was just thinking about Chief Joe," she said and leaned against the kitchen island. "I wonder how he's doing."

"He's living in paradise," Michael said and went over to her, his thermos of coffee in hand. "He and his wife are in a retirement village, with manicured lawns and a restaurant and golf course. I imagine they're doing okay, considering."

"Don't you feel bad?"

"Of course," Michael said and pulled on his jacket and boots. "The man was like a mentor to me when I was younger and considered joining the FBI. Everyone was totally blind about Eugene. He was that good at covering his tracks."

"He was. He killed all those cats. He broke into all those homes and stole all kinds of trophies. He knew where all the security cameras were located so he knew where he could get caught and where he was safe."

"He told his mother that all the stolen property he amassed was all from flea markets or pawn shops. He knew what to say because he read every serial killer case in the library," Michael added. He grabbed his briefcase and then Tess went to him and gave him a goodbye kiss.

"Want to go out for supper tonight?" she asked. "Maybe go for Happy Hour somewhere and get some bar food?"

"I'll see what's on the agenda for the day. I'm meeting with the ME about the double homicide up North in the late afternoon, but I should be able to make Happy Hour."

"Give me a call," she said and watched him leave, closing the door to the apartment when he disappeared down the stairwell.