The Face Behind The Mask

37

Based on Dray's recollections of where he spotted Kelsey stumbling out of the forest, Patrice and Lloyd set about tracking through the woods in the general vicinity. Eventually, they located the girl's footprints in the mud and found places where she'd dug her fingers into the soft earth, desperate to escape. They followed her approximate trail to the abandoned cinderblock building tucked away in an overgrown field.

Patrice could see the relief on her partner's face, relieved the search had ended. His hair looked damp with perspiration, a trail running behind his ears, and his face was flushed. Orion took a minute to catch her breath as she surveyed the scene. She drew her iPhone from her pocket and snapped some photos.

Lloyd pinned the location on his phone and texted the coordinates to the Forensics squad. He put his field glasses to his eyes and did a slow turn. "You don't just happen to find a place like this while you're out joyriding," he said. "This would come under the heading of 'off the beaten path,' wouldn't you say?"

She nodded. "From what I got from the McKenzie girl, the suspect threw her into the vehicle, which says to me, regular car or small SUV. She said he's a small, thin guy. Probably not strong enough to lift an unwilling teenage girl up into a truck cab even with his adrenaline pumping. His little vehicle had to take a beating off-roading out to here."

"And they're out here at night? Probably couldn't see your hand in front of your face." He squatted, looking at the path of flattened field grass winding down the hillside. "The suspension on that vehicle's gotta be shot."

She nodded.

"Hey, Treece. You wanna maybe grab some lunch on the way back?" He hooked his thumbs in his waistband and hiked up his pants.

She didn't answer.

"I saw a sign for smash burgers about ten miles back."

"Salads not cutting it?"

"A little protein wouldn't hurt."

A glint of sunlight from the grass nearby caught Patrice's eye. She approached, parting the field grass carefully, and then dropped to a knee. She stretched a pair of blue nitrile gloves over her hands. "It's a rusty old padlock. Looks like it's been forced open." She bagged the lock. "Probably didn't take much effort."

Lloyd said, "There are some old tools scattered back here in the weeds." He looked over his shoulder at his partner and then back at the assortment of tools. "And I mean old."

She stood and brushed dirt from her knee. "Let's see what's inside."

Before entering the structure, they stretched shoe covers over their footwear and Lloyd worked blue nitrile gloves onto his hands. Patrice shoved the door open and stepped into the mouth of the tomb, their LED flashlights cutting through a haze of dust into the blackness. Until the door had been forced open, the same air had probably occupied the non-ventilated structure for decades.

Lloyd flinched when something bumped his forehead. He raised his flashlight and discovered a half dozen pine tree air fresheners hanging from the ceiling.

He wrinkled his nose. "Mmmmm. That fresh outdoorsy smell."

Patrice's flashlight beam found the old dog bed in the corner of the room, a discarded musty blanket like rancid icing on a moldy cake. She swept her beam along the walls and came back to the pet bed where she recognized the smell of fear and mildew. She imagined how disoriented and scared Kelsey must have been when the Ketamine wore off and she woke in this stinking prison, a strange lunatic ranting and raving. 

She directed the flashlight beam across the floor and then up at the sagging ceiling. She imagined the small man choosing this small, ugly space, creating a little forgotten corner of the world he could control.

"That mattress, dog bed, whatever, looks older than me," Lloyd said. "He could've grabbed it from someone's trash pile."

With her shoulders slumped, she crossed to the door. "We should let Forensics do their job. Maybe there's something here I'm not seeing."

........

Orion sat at her desk, completing paperwork until almost seven PM, waiting for the Forensics report. It was the part of the work day when the phones gradually stopped ringing, voices were thinning out, and you could hear the hum of the overhead lights.

Moments after the Forensics report finally hit her inbox she felt the faint glimmer of optimism die in her stomach. Although the cardboard air fresheners dangling from the ceiling at the crime scene were not the familiar kind sold in auto parts stores and car washes, they were nothing out of the ordinary. As expected, the blanket and pet bed were soiled with traces of human urine, saliva, and blood droplets, but no matching DNA was flagged in the system. They pulled some latent prints from the broken padlock but again - no matches. Ash-blonde strands found on the blanket were identified as Kelsey McKenzie's hair and a few follicles were likely from the suspect's previous blonde victim. The Forensics team also discovered size 9 sneaker footprints outside the building, indicating a smaller-than-average man, information Orion already knew.

She got up from her chair, rapped her knuckles rhythmically on her desk, and then decided to head to the gym to blow off some steam. Give the intellect some rest and focus on the physical. As she reached for her jacket, a text set off a smile that steadily grew wider.

Hey Mom Got a new roommate

She replied: What happened to whats his name?

Transferred to Community

Hows your new roomie?

Yea hes gonna be OK

Good

Imma hit the cafe before it closes

Love you

Luv you

The brief text exchange with her son was by far the best part of her day, it refocused her. For a few minutes, the rest of her world was white noise.

Ninety minutes later, recovering from her workout, Patrice drove into a gas station and stopped at a pump. She got out of her car, shoved the nozzle into the gas port, and began filing the gas tank. Dressed in her gym sweats, the sleeves bunched at her elbows, she felt her warm, damp collar against the back of her tight neck.

An obscenely glossy sedan pulled up behind her car. The driver slipped out of his vehicle and jogged to the convenience store, with his car engine chugging. He was among the legions of everyday people whose careless or callous behavior really pissed her off but she wasn't going to let it get to her tonight. She averted her eyes.

When the handle clicked off, she shoved the nozzle back into the pump and replaced her gas cap. On her way past the shiny sedan, she noticed a toddler in the back seat strapped into a car seat and she felt her blood pressure rising. She entered the store and saw the father standing at the counter, chatting amiably with the pretty cashier basking in his attention. Patrice could see it in his face. His parenting responsibilities were the furthest thing from his mind.

She was about to scold the young dad when a figure streaking past the door drew her attention. Behind the reflections on the glass, a guy with a beanie pulled low on his head yanked open the driver's door of the running car. Instinctively Patrice reached for her weapon before realizing it was secured in the trunk of her car along with her work clothes. She snatched a can of oil from a nearby rack, shoved open the door, and in one athletic motion, heaved the can. It spiraled through the air and struck the man hard on the side of his head with a loud THUNK. His legs went wobbly and he flailed for the car door on his way to the ground.

As she rushed him, she heard the panicked toddler crying out, the dad hollering from inside the store, and the semi-conscious carjacker spitting a string of profanities. She was on him before he could clear his hemorrhaging head. He reached up blindly, groping for her throat. She batted his tattooed hand away and drove her elbow into his face. He was kissing concrete before he knew what hit him.

"Call 911!" she shouted to anyone with a phone and pinned him to the ground. He wriggled beneath her, bargaining and pleading for release.

"Shut the hell up," she said and then muttered, "Jesus, what a day."