Profile of Terror (6 page)

"Are Jasmine's parents here?" 

"Yes, honey, they're seated in the second row behind the prosecutor's table."

"They won't see that DVD he made of him beating Jasmine, will they?"

"No, they won't.  Mr. Brandt will ask the Victim Advocate sitting next to them to take Reverend and Mrs. Norris out of the courtroom when he shows that DVD,"  Carly paused for a moment, then continued.  "Mr. Brandt wished he didn't have to show the filming at all.  But it's one of the only times when Ryder's ski mask slipped, exposing his face.  The jury has to see that."

"Will you be in the courtroom?"

"Yes," Carly responded.  "And your mom will be there, too.  Just look at one of us if you feel frightened, or need to feel how much we support what you're doing.  We can't let Jim Ryder get away with what he did to you, Jasmine, and the rest of the victims."

<><><> 

After the first day of testimony, Carly, Brody and Michael met in the bar at the Sugar Creek Inn, a historic hotel on the square across from the courthouse.

"How do you think it went today?"  Brody asked Michael.

"Hard to say," Michael began.  "The jurors were very attentive to the testimony.  That's a good sign.  But Ryder's defense attorney, Brett Newson, got several of his objections sustained.  But he succeeded in shaking up Alison Brown so much she started crying, and the judge called a recess so we could calm her down.  I watched the jurors' expressions.  They felt sorry for her and looked at Newson like they were pissed he was bullying her.  All in all, Alison did an amazing job in reaching the jurors.  Several had tears in their eyes once she finished."

"Poor kid," remarked Carly. 

"More like brave kid," Brody returned.  "How many teenagers who have gone through what she has would have the guts to get in front of a packed courtroom to testify about it?"

Carly squeezed Brody's hand under the table.  "I agree."

"By the way, Gabe did an excellent job testifying.  He even had a couple of PowerPoint slides showing jurors the actual emails Ryder had exchanged with the victims," said Michael.  "I plan to use him as a consultant for a couple of cases I have coming up."

"He did a good job," Brody said with pride. "He'll appreciate the work."

To Carly, Michael said, "Tell me about Ryder.  What makes him tick?  Give me some information I can use in final arguments."

"Ryder is a sexual sadist who only gets turned on when his victims are helpless and vulnerable.  Their suffering is the most important thing to him.  He rapes them to exert his power over his victims, not for any kind of sexual satisfaction.  He gets off by reliving the attacks later.  That's why the box of DVDs and photographs were found."

"Do you think he will insist on testifying on his own behalf?"

"It's a safe bet he's pressuring his attorney to let him testify," said Carly.  "He's an arrogant man and a prolific liar. Ryder's convinced he's far more intelligent than law enforcement, and certainly smarter than any juror. He'll want to tell his version of events.  In his mind, the girls came to him willingly and asked for what they got."

"If Brett Newson is as smart as I think he is, he'll keep Ryder off the stand because he knows I'll tear him apart."

"I'd want to be there for that," said Brody.

<><><> 

Two days later, thanks to a surveillance job in Indianapolis, Gabe hadn't gotten home until three in the morning.  So when he awoke to loud pounding on his bedroom door two hours later, he was anything but overjoyed.

"What the hell?"  Gabe grumbled as he rolled out of bed, flicked his lamp on, and opened the door to find his brother, Cameron, who shoved a mug of hot, dark coffee into his hand.

"Wake up, Gabe.  I have to tell you something," Cameron pushed past him and sat in a chair near the desk.

"Can't this wait?" After nearly stumbling over one of his shoes, Gabe made it to his bed and sat down.  Sipping the hot coffee, he squinted at Cameron. "What's happened?"

When his brother didn't immediately answer, Gabe took a good look at him and noticed worry pinched between his dark brows.  Cameron was a laid-back, Type B, and it took a lot to get him upset.  So whatever he had to tell him was not going to be good news.

"Spill it," Gabe demanded.

"A Purdue University student was reported missing this morning in West Lafayette."

"So why do I need to know this?" Gabe asked, rubbing his eyes.  "Which Purdue student?"

"Abby Reece."

Gabe felt the blood drain from his face.  "No way.  Abby can't be missing.  She's probably off somewhere with her latest conquest."

"No one's seen her for four days."

A wave of apprehension swept through Gabe. He was momentarily speechless:  Abby was missing. 

"I'll find her," Gabe declared, determination etched in his facial features.

"Stay out of it," Cameron insisted.

"Cam, if it were you, would you stay out of it?"

Cameron ignored the question. "You have to distance yourself, Gabe.  You've been dating her for how many weeks?"

"Four, but we broke up."

"When?"

"The night of Carly's birthday party."

"That wasn't even two months ago."

"So what's your point?"

"If I were investigating a young woman's disappearance, the first person I'd want to talk to is the current or ex-boyfriend, because he's usually the doer."

"Whatever, Cam.  I'm talking to the police. If Abby is missing, I want to help if I can," Gabe said. "Which police agency has the case?"

"Since she lives off campus, the West Lafayette police have it."

<><><> 

Gabe's visit to the West Lafayette Police Department was interesting but predictable.  They already had his name listed as one of Abby's boyfriends. They wanted to know when he'd seen her last, why they broke up, the date of the breakup, and if he knew anyone who would want to hurt her.  These were the same questions he'd ask if he were investigating a disappearance, but it was odd to hear them directed at him.  He still hadn't completely accepted that Abby was actually missing. 

Fingering the key she'd given him, he decided to visit Abby's apartment off-campus, near North Chauncey Avenue.  Parking in front, Gabe remembered how he'd urged Abby to install surveillance cameras, or at least an alarm, but she'd just laughed at him. 

Abby's apartment was one of two upstairs in an older house that could use a new roof, a fresh coat of paint, and a dozen repairs or more.  She rented from a seventy-five-year-old retired anthropology professor, Dr. Ramsey, who lived on the first floor.  Noticing the professor's car was not parked in the driveway, Gabe parked at the rear entrance and immediately saw that Abby's 1998 white BMW roadster was parked near the building.  Did that mean she was upstairs in her apartment?

Once inside, he returned her key to his pocket and slipped on a pair of latex gloves so he wouldn't add his fingerprints or DNA to the crime scene, if the apartment should become one.  The first thing he noticed was how clean and neat the place was, everything in its place.  That was typical Abby Reece.  Her personal life might be a mess, but her apartment was always pristine.

Gabe did a quick sweep of each room and didn't notice anything unusual, except Abby's ivory Coach purse and new iPhone were not in their place on her desk next to her laptop. Two items she'd wouldn't be without. Where was she? 

Gabe opened Abby's laptop and found it to be on.  Slipping an external drive from his pocket, he quickly connected it, and then copied each of her Outlook email folders so he could study them later in his office.  Checking her Outlook Calendar, he discovered that Abby used it extensively, but found nothing other than class reminders and appointments.  Nothing suspicious, but he copied the current and past three months anyway.

Next, he searched her Internet browser files and made a copy of temporary files onto the external drive.  These files would enable him to see Abby's browsing history with the websites the browser had visited.  Later, he would go to the sites to see if Abby had any recent communications that might help him locate her.  Gabe copied the contents of the laptop's hard drive.  Without her iPhone, he would have to use his contact at the phone company to get a record of her calls.

Pulling out the external drive, he slipped it into his jeans pocket and went through the apartment again.  There were absolutely no signs a struggle had occurred here.  If Abby had been abducted, it did not occur inside her apartment. 

Hearing a car motor and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires, Gabe rushed to Abby's window to see that Dr. Ramsey had arrived.  He raced down the back stairs and then up the driveway, and met the older woman at her car in front of the house.

Gabe didn't hesitate to ask Dr. Ramsey his first question, "When was the last time you saw Abby?"

"That's just what the policeman asked when I reported her missing.  I saw Abby last Friday.  We had lemonade and a nice chat on the porch when she returned from one of her classes." She paused.  "I did hear her go out later that night, must have been around nine o'clock or so."

Recording the information in a small notebook, he asked, "When you talked to her, did Abby seem worried or upset about anything?"

Dr. Ramsey considered the question, and then said, "No.  She was in a good mood. She'd just gotten an A on an essay she'd written for her English class."

"What about visitors?"

"Abby has always had her share of male visitors.  No one that stands out, but then I don't really notice much of what goes on at the back of the building where Abby's entrance is located.  My living space is in front," said Dr. Ramsey, and then added.  "But I do remember you.  You came around more than the others.  I was hoping you were the one for her."

Ignoring her statement, Gabe fished a business card out of his pocket and handed it to her.  "If you think of anything that might help me find Abby, give me a call."

"You're a private investigator?  Did Abby's mother hire you?"

"No, I've never met Abby's mother."

"You might want to give her a call.  She could use help from someone like you." 

Gabe's cell phone alerted he'd received a text.  Excusing himself, he headed for his truck in the back of the building.  The text was from Michael Brandt.  Ryder's verdict was in and the court would reconvene within the hour.

<><><> 

As quietly as she could, Kaitlyn Reece opened the louvered doors to her sister's closet and stepped into the room.  Taking a deep breath, she moved to the window and watched the man who had just been in Abby's apartment talking with her sister's landlord downstairs.  Who was he and why did he have a key to Abby's apartment?  Answering her own questions, she concluded he was probably one of Abby's many boyfriends.  The most important question was what did he have to do with her disappearance?  Why did he copy the contents of her laptop?