Serial Separation (14 page)

Chapter 39

I tried not to show how upset I
was. Mercedes gave me my space to deal with my upsetting phone call. Neither of
us relished the thoughts of digging the car out of the parking lot, but it had
to be done. The first trip out to the car rescued my boots and the fruit cake
from the trunk for Christmas lunch.

We made some progress the next trip
out, clearing the car of almost a foot and a half of wet snow and ice. The top
layer was a light powder, which the wind continued to blow about.

I liked watching Mercy help with
the car. She caught me looking instead of working, sending a spray of snow off
the roof, catching me off guard. I retaliated and soon our work was replaced
with rolling around in the snow. If anyone observed us, we must have looked
like fools or more like kids thrilled by the season’s first snow storm.

It took me a few attempts, but I
finally pinned her down. Instead of breaking the hold, we just stared at each
other. I wondered if she knew what I was thinking and wondered if she had the
same thoughts.

I let her up hesitantly, not
knowing exactly what to expect, but she just dusted herself off.

“Scotty, I’ll find a way to get
even.”

“I’m certain you will. Let’s see if
this puppy will start.”

I got in and fired up the Pontiac, and the engine sounded its displeasure with some clanking noises. I knew the
windshield and wipers were going to be difficult, so I decided to just let the
car warm up to defrost the windshield.

I watched Mercedes walking back to
the cabin, trying her best to make a path. I realized I liked our time
together, but still had concerns about it.

I left the car running and went
into the cabin. Mercedes had cut some of the fruit cake and had it waiting on
napkins from last night’s luxury meal. I stomped off the snow and removed my
boots and jacket.

“Mercy isn’t it nice of you to make
us a Christmas dinner.”

“I thought it was the least I could
do, since we ate so well last night.”

“Mercy, I would like to talk about
last night?”

“What about it? Are you having
regrets?”

“Some, I guess. I’m glad we spent
the time together and . . . and, in a way, I’m sorry we’re leaving.”

“Scotty, you’ve said some nice
things since we met, but that is the nicest thing you have said.” She reached
across the table and held my hand.

Smiling, we took our first bites.
She turned and looked at the fireplace, but I noticed her eyes tearing.

* *
*

My thoughts were on her Christmas
present to me, but the sound of a boom and an engine roar interrupted it. I
rushed to the window not knowing what to expect, and it was a plow pulling the
snow from behind our car.

“It’s a snow plow getting the
driveway plowed.”

Mercedes just stared at me, her
expression never changing.

We finished our fruit cake and
started to get ready for the cold, but she stopped me, placing her face right
in front of mine.

This time I could read her
expression. This moment could be our last. We reached for each other and kissed
a long passionate kiss. Then we hugged, looking into each other’s eyes, each of
us saying what we couldn’t vocalize.

We released each other slowly.
However, I had enough heat to go without the jacket, but it would have been
awkward carrying it.

I held her hand, plowing through
the semi-path we made, but it wasn’t just to keep her from falling.

* *
*

The windshield was defrosted and
the car was warm inside when we buckled in. Mercedes sat on the leather seats,
which made her jump. I laughed at her reaction and looked at her bare legs.

“Next time you’ll wear a whole
skirt.”

She said in a soft voice, “I hope
there’s a next time.”

I wanted to respond, but I’d said
enough. My mind was pretty mixed up right now. She must have read my mind
again.

“Scott, please talk to me about
Lisa.” You told me you’re having some problems.

We had a long ride, and I told her
about the last task force and what Jimmy Ballou had done to the camp
counselors. It gave me a chance to explain how Lisa’s mother was connected, how
I found Lisa, how close she had come to being killed by Jimmy, and how he
slipped to his death.

“Lisa has not dealt with the
details of that ordeal, and her behavior when we are together shows how much
she needs help.”

“Thanks, Scotty, for sharing the
details with me. I think I can appreciate what Lisa is struggling with. Scott,
what about that dream you had? Why do you think you had that nightmare?”

“I can’t get the images of the
murdered men out of my head. I’ve had some similar dreams in the last week.
They’re not all the same, but I find myself the victim in them. I’m sorry I
exposed you to one of them.”

“I’m glad you exposed me to your .
. . your dream.”

I was amazed at how fast she could
pick up the double meaning in things. “I was really embarrassed by that.”

“Scotty, things happen that we have
no control over, and that was one of them—fate, I guess. Can you tell me about
your family?”

“I’m an only child. My parents own
a small farm in Maine. They surprised me by putting enough money aside for me
to actually attend Harvard. They pushed me to study hard, but I never knew what
their motivation was.”

“When my studying paid off with
high marks, they talked me into applying to Harvard. When I was accepted, I
almost hid the acceptance letter, but they had seen the envelope. I told them
the news. They explained what they had saved for my education. I couldn’t
believe what they had done.”

She nodded, almost expecting what I
told her.

“What about you, Mercy?”

“We live in a respectable area of Winchester. My dad is in real estate, a self-made millionaire, I think, which is helping
pay for my education. He owns many properties, which he leases or improves and
sells for considerable profit.”

“One office complex in a run-down
area of Boston happened to be where the city dumped a ton of money to bring the
area back to life. He made a real killing on that one complex.”

She continued. “I think I mentioned
that I manage one of those properties, but my sister, Melanie, handles many
different properties for his company. She has a nice title, director of property
development, but I’m the one that is receiving the education.”

I added, “We certainly come from
different backgrounds. We’re just country bumpkins compared to you city folk.”

She looked more comfortable talking
about herself. “When I was growing up, I loved to go camping with my parents
and sailing with my grandfather and sister. Unfortunately, he died a few years
ago . . . I really miss that time and him.”

“Mercy, you sound sad when you talk
about those times.”

She didn’t immediately answer. “I
missed out on a lot. I spent most of my time focused on my studies to make it
into Harvard. My dad, along with my grandfather, wanted both of us to get that
kind of education. I’m the only one that is having that benefit.”

“I’m glad you’re going to Harvard—I
don’t think I would have met you if you weren’t.”

She reached over and put her hand
on my shoulder.

“Scotty, what we had these last two
days . . . I never had the opportunity to experience growing up. I wish I could
tell you what this time meant to me.” She was still touching me and leaning
close. “Do you think we can see each other after today . . . on a date?”

I couldn’t respond immediately to
her question. I really liked being with her; it was different than being with
Lisa. However, I knew what Lisa and I had had the previous year. We loved each
other so much, and I knew her recent outbursts and behavior related to her
ordeal.

“Mercy, I wouldn’t trade what we
experienced, but I really don’t know how to answer your question. I don’t fully
understand what is happening.”

* *
*

We had a long drive ahead of us.
Neither of us slept much last night, and Mercedes had fallen asleep during the
drive to the Cambridge office. It gave me some time to try to sort out my
feelings—Mercedes and last night, the torso task force, my studies and what to
do about Lisa.

I was also having trouble staying
awake. The drive was long, slow, and tricky. There wasn’t much traffic on the
roads due to the storm and the holiday. We were getting close, and I was
driving fast but was being watchful of the hazards around me.

I don’t remember if I was half
asleep or what, but the snowplow coming out of the side street either never
stopped or I wasn’t paying attention. I slammed on my brakes, and we skidded,
managing to miss him somehow. My heart was pounding, and I looked to see if
Mercedes was awake, but she was still sleeping.

Amazing as that was, I was now going
to be wide
awake for the balance of the trip. I noticed her purse had
tipped over, and some of the contents were spread out on the seat between us. With
my eyes alternating between watching the road and replacing the contents, I saw
her wallet. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing—the corners of several $20 bills
were exposed.

Chapter 40

I wanted to really like her. Maybe
too much. I liked her so much I couldn’t see the truth through her deception. I
guess I wanted her to like me too.

It was clear Mercedes had deceived
me so that we could share a cabin. I was surprised she had the nerve to do
that. I wondered if I needed to fear anything else, if she was not being
truthful.

That made me angry—angry with her; angry
with myself.

The fantasy bubble burst.
Should
I wake her up and confront her? No, maybe that would just make it worse,
I
thought then.
What was I afraid of? Would confronting her end our
relationship? What relationship?
Was I confused, or what?

Was I ashamed we spent the night
together? No. If we hadn’t, would I have regretted not being with her? Yes.

I needed time to get a handle on
all of this. I had to think. Mike had said he left a message with Colleen, but
she never gave us that message. She was still there when I arrived, but she
never mentioned his call.

Could Mercedes have received his
call and he assumed it was Colleen? If so, she took a real risk in not saying
anything, because we could have had an accident, or worse.

Whatever possessed her to do that?
Could she have wanted to be with me that much to hide the truth?

I watched her sleeping so
innocently, but behind the facade she was a hellcat. I guess she thought the
risk was worth it. If we had had an accident at least we would have been
together. Maybe that would have been okay with her.

That’s another thing—she could have
driven, but asked to ride with me. I felt like I was just an actor in her play—no,
a puppet, with her pulling all the strings. She had a plan and she was right on
target.

She also kept me from seeing Lisa.
Had she told me of Mike’s call, I would have headed to Lisa’s parents’ and not Newburyport. Could I forgive her for that? After all it was Christmas and not being with
Lisa upset her. So much so, she said she didn’t care what I did with the task
force.

I couldn’t forget this charade
resulted in my being naked with a woman I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to
be with. How could I ignore her baiting the hook with that short skirt?

Her words about my dream echoed in
my head: “Things happen we can’t control, and that was one of them . . . fate,
I guess.” She had controlled everything, except my feelings. Did she have
control of those? Was I going to confront her, or just keep it to myself? Was I
still upset?

Chapter 41

It was difficult dealing with what
I learned, and I’m not sure I’ve completely dealt with it yet. At one point, I
felt like saying to hell with the task force.

The sight of Mercedes sleeping
reminded me again of the previous night and the next morning. I wondered if I
said we were going back, would she smile and accept it . . . or what? My
memories of that time were like eating a hot pepper.

We were a few miles from the office
when I woke Mercedes. I decided not to say anything about finding the money to
see how this progressed. She had obviously planned the adventure and, from the
looks of it, was satisfied with the results.

“Mercy . . . Mercy, wake up, we’re
almost at the office.”

She looked around. “You made good
time.”

I felt like saying I gave you the
time you planned
.

“Yeah, the trip turned out better
than I expected.”

“Scott, are you going to tell
anyone we stayed together last night?”

“Why? Are you concerned?”

“Well, yes
.
I think it’s our
business what we did . . . not anyone else’s on the task force. Besides, if
they knew about us, they might question our working together. I suggest we keep
it to ourselves. That’s not to say we need to lie, just not share some of the
intimate details with anyone.”

“Like when Mike called me at the
cabin and I told him you were with me. However, I didn’t tell him that you were
with me all night. I didn’t hide that detail from Lisa.”

“Like I said, no one needs to know
the details—only that we had to stay overnight at the cabins.”

“I think we’ll be busy enough when
we get to the office. I don’t expect the attention will be on us. It might be
on you with that short skirt,” I said smiling.

“I’m glad you noticed, but you’re
not staring anymore.”

“It was hard not to.”

“I know it was hard.” She smiled
again, stroking the side of my face. “Do you want to stop the car and roll
around in the snow again?”

I know my flushed face answered her
question.

* *
*

When we arrived at the office, the
walk was shoveled, and all the lights were on in the building. As we entered
the office, we were greeted with an enticing smell of fresh brewed coffee. We
quickly hung our coats and headed for the coffee.

Mercedes looked great, considering
she was without an arsenal of makeup. We looked at each other over our cups. She
was the first to break the silence.

“I know it’s awkward . . . but you
made me feel like a woman . . . thanks, Scotty.”

Before I could respond, I heard
footsteps behind me.

“Well, Merry Christmas. I’m glad
you could make it. I’m going to talk to Colleen about not giving you the
message—not to try to make Newburyport,” Mike said, reaching to fill his cup.

“Merry Christmas to you too. The
roads weren’t so bad coming back. I thought they would be, but there wasn’t
much traffic coming into the city,” I replied, noticing Mercy was dealing with
Mike’s comment.

Mercedes held up her hand to get
Mike’s attention. “Please don’t talk to Colleen about your call. I answered the
phone and never said anything to Scott about it. Colleen had already left. I
don’t know what I was thinking, but it wasn’t her fault.”

Mike looked stunned and was slow to
respond. “I’m glad you told me, young lady, but I wish you had told Scott about
it.” He looked at me and then at Mercedes. “We are going to get an update from
the Boston P.D. on what they’ve found for any witnesses to Palmer and
Sullivan’s kidnapping. We would also like to get Mercedes’ impression, or
profile, of who is doing these killings. We are about to meet in the conference
room when you’re . . . done here.”

I thought Mike handled her
confession well and was surprised she admitted she took the call. On one hand,
she could be deceitful and the other truthful. The question was, which was
which? I was glad Colleen wasn’t confronted about this.

We both filled our cups, but
Mercedes noticed the coffee pot was running low and made a new pot. She asked,
“Did I surprise you by admitting I took Mike’s call?”

“Mercy, I’m not sure anything
surprises me about you anymore.”

She turned quickly, and we were
nose to nose, and I was immediately surprised by the fragrance of gardenia.
“Scotty I’m not going to let you know all my secrets. I don’t think you’re
ready for them yet.”

* *
*

We headed to the conference room.
Just when I was feeling more at ease with Mercedes, she managed to make me feel
uncomfortable and vulnerable again. However, I was beginning to assemble the
puzzle pieces.

When we entered
the conference room, many of the former members of the task force were present
even though it was Christmas afternoon. Paddy was at the front of the room
talking with Mike.

Paul Brosque
came over and showed me something he was holding, but my attention was on
Paddy’s introduction of Mercedes.

Mercedes looked
totally comfortable. She was greeting everyone with what looked like her
patented handshake. She just looked at them, nodding her head. I noticed the
movement of her red hair against her gray sweater, accenting her striking
figure.

Paul tapped me on the arm and placed
his finger on a small area of the map he was displaying. “This is the area
where Cathy Palmer lived and she and Bob Sullivan were last seen.”

I quickly noticed Lisa’s dormitory
was located on the same street.

Mike continued. “Boston P.D. will
be updating us on any leads based on their partial canvass of the apartments
along these two streets.”

Paddy announced, “If everyone can
take a seat, we can get started. I want to thank all of you for coming in on
Christmas, and I’m sorry to take you away from your families. We’re going to
get a report from the two Boston P.D. detectives on what leads we might have,
based on canvassing the area around where Ms. Palmer and Bob Sullivan were last
seen. I might point out that the torso found on the North Shore yesterday was
confirmed to be Bob Sullivan. As reported, Cathy Palmer’s body was found along
the Fenway. She had been raped and stabbed numerous times.”

We listened to
the detectives’ canvass reports along with their ideas for the remaining effort
needed. So far, no one had seen anything out of the ordinary, and certainly no
kidnapping.

Paddy spent part
of the next hour going over the material he had, serving as a refresher for me.
During the discussion, some of it reminded me of why I had my nightmares. I
noticed Mercedes; she had a notebook and was making entries as the material was
presented. She made the notes left-handed, which I guess I had never noticed. Paddy
called for a quick break, and we all went off in separate directions.

When we resumed,
Paddy was seated at the front of the table with Mercedes beside him. Paddy
stood. “As I mentioned earlier, I would like Mercedes to give us her impression
of the killers’ profile. Please understand, this is just another perspective to
consider. She has only seen the details for just a few hours. Thanks, Mercedes,
you have the floor.”

She rose,
straightening the bottom of her sweater. I could tell she had everyone’s
attention.

“The first thing
I want to say is thanks for letting me join the team, and I hope it can be
mutually rewarding. The second, with Paddy’s permission—I would like to be
called ‘Mercy.’”

She looked over
at Mike and me. “Third, I do have some immediate input for your consideration,”
she said, taking a long sip of coffee and then slowly walking to the side of
the room.

I watched heads
turn like they were attracted by a magnet. Mike and I turned to face her at the
blackboard behind us.

“I want to
preface these comments with the following: I might be way off the mark, but
they’re my first reactions. For those not aware of profiling, it is the
potential makeup of the type of characters that might be committing these
crimes. So, please bear with me and consider this input with any other.”

She picked up
the chalk, which had a chrome holder, and wrote ‘Female’ on the board. “I
believe the removal of the private parts indicates ‘sexual.’” She wrote ‘Sexual’
on the board
.

“These men
underwent some amount of torture.” She wrote ‘Torture’ on the board. She spoke
the word for emphasis again, “Torture.”

She continued, remarking,
“This leads me to believe there were multiple females involved.” She wrote ‘Multiple’
on the board. “Considering the size of these men, it would have taken more than
one to pull off these murders.”

She walked back
around to take another mouthful of coffee, and all the heads watched her. I
thought, what a bunch of puppets. She could tell my eyes were on her moving
back to the board.

She wrote ‘Many’
on the board. “Since there are multiple females involved and only three bodies
have surfaced, I believe there will be more—potentially more than the number of
females involved.” She lengthened the piece of chalk, and I could see her red
nails and the white on her fingers from the chalk. She added ‘Revenge’ to the
board.

“The motive
behind these killings is revenge. I’m not sure what could have happened, but I
believe the females are killing these men because of something done to them.
It’s hard to say if these men were the actual perpetrators of the crimes
committed on them, but they are getting back at ‘men’ for doing whatever it
was.”

She looked
around the room at each of us, not saying a word.

She studied what
she had printed and then went back to the photographs. I saw the same intensity
I saw moments before. She came back to the board and wrote, ‘College Age.’
“These women are most likely in college, and either the same college or another
close by, and have established a strong bond of their own.”

“This puts them
in the vicinity of Boston proper, given the number of colleges in the area,”
and she wrote ‘Boston.’ “Boston ties in with the ability to dump bodies in the
ocean. There are many locations around Boston Harbor to do that,” and she wrote,
‘Waterfront.’

She added, “I
can’t believe these women would take the chance of carrying bodies in a vehicle
to dump them. They need immediate access to the water, which I would think
would be a wharf or pier, or a building with access to it.”

I was doing my
own analysis of Mercedes and could see by looking at how she had us spellbound
that she really got off on control. She had captured all of us. I had to agree,
she was making total sense.

I watched her
drink the last of her coffee and realized she could have brought the coffee
with her. She was purposely moving to capture attention. She went back to the
board.

“Paddy said the
coroner’s report indicated the bodies were in the water for several days. Based
on the sequence, I would say,” and she wrote ‘Weekends’ on the board. “If these
men were indeed tortured, and the women were in college, it would seem the only
time they would have to pull this off would be on a weekend.”

“If they were
trying to get revenge and wanted to torture the men, they wouldn’t just do it
on an evening. That would be too rushed. They wanted the victims to fear what
was going to happen to them—and wanted them to understand their fate. They
would have been told why they were being killed.”

“I’ll give you a
theory scenario: They, or someone close to them, kidnap these men on a Friday,”
and she wrote ‘Friday’ on the board. “They bring them to a waterfront facility
for their fun and games. When they’re done, which I believe is on a Sunday,
they dump the torsos in the bay.”

She walked to
the front of the room next to Paddy, who was totally letting her do her thing. She
looked slowly at each of us again. No one said a word. I noticed that the gardenia
fragrance was now much more noticeable, speculating that Mercedes was worked up
about what she was doing. She walked back to the board.

I thought, what
more could she list?

She said nothing
and wrote, ‘Leftovers.’ She turned and looked at us again and finally said, “I
don’t know about you guys, but at my mom’s house we always had leftovers. What
did these women do with the left over parts?”

She purposely
let her question linger.

“Here’s what I
think: We have a group of women who want revenge on men who did something
extremely bad to them, or someone close to them, and want to torture them. They
would keep the remaining pieces as trophies of their vendetta.”

She tapped the
board. “I want to give you one more thing to consider. If my calculations are
correct . . . next Friday there will be another kidnapping.”

She wrote on the
board: ‘Too late?’ “Gentlemen, it’s possibly too late to prevent that
kidnapping from happening next Friday night. We need to consider how to break
the pattern and find these women!”

Mercedes threw
the chalk onto the holder with emphasis and swiped her hair back behind her
ear. There was silence in the room for a few seconds, and then we all
applauded. She smiled and walked back to her seat, squeezing Paddy’s shoulder
as she walked by. Paddy stood up slowly, took a sip of coffee, and looked at
Mercedes, smiling. “Mercedes, you have given us more than I could have
expected. It’s obvious your training and insight has created a potential
scenario which I find very believable. I think we would benefit from this
perspective and should consider it going forward.”

He went to the
board and underlined each word and added his clarifications:

Female(s)

Sexual
(Nature)

Torture(d)

Multiple
(People)

Many (More)

(Motive)
Revenge