Trapped (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 5) Read online

  That sounded like it could have been what Jenny had briefly experienced; perhaps that was the disease that had plagued Samuel’s family. She made a face as she considered the implications of what Roy was saying. The thought of feeling like that for an extended period time was horrible enough, but to feel that way while sleeping outside in sub-freezing temperatures was unfathomable. Jenny’s heart bled for the soldiers.

  Roy continued to recite facts. “Typhoid fever was also a pretty common disease back then, and the symptoms were pretty similar to dysentery. Typhoid came with a rash and delirium, though, and a much higher fever. About a quarter of the deaths among soldiers were attributed to typhoid, not battle.”

  “It was that contagious?”

  “Sadly, yes. It was because of the poor sanitation they had back then. They didn’t know what we know today, and their latrine was often too close to the food and water supply. They were literally consuming the bacteria that caused typhoid.”

  Jenny curled her lip as a wave of nausea resurfaced. “What about for regular families?” she posed, trying to stick to the matter at hand. “Or even upper-class families like the one that originally lived here? Would typhoid or dysentery have been a problem for them?”

  Roy looked at Jenny with a knowing smile. “Money didn’t make the family more knowledgeable about sanitation.”

  She felt her nerves surge. “So even the wealthy were susceptible?”

  “Absolutely. They may have thought it would be convenient to have both the outhouse and the well close to the house. If, however, the two were too close to each other, you’ve got contaminated drinking water and a very sick family.”

  Jenny thought about that for a moment. “But a wealthy family wouldn’t have had to sleep outside in a tent…they would have had a bed and a fireplace, and they may have been able to afford a doctor. Would that have mattered?”

  “Maybe,” Roy replied. “It depends on the severity of the illness—and the type for that matter. If a person got cholera, they could have been dead in a matter of hours.”

  “Hours? That’s insane,” Jenny noted. “And what caused cholera?”

  “The same thing that caused dysentery and typhoid.”

  Jenny shook her head, marveling at how much misery she’d been spared due to advances in science. “Well, thank you,” she said kindly. “This has been very informative.”

  “Glad I could help,” Roy replied as he stood. “If there’s anything else you’d like to know, please ask.”

  “Thank you, I will.” The two shook hands, and Roy headed off to go upstairs and join his wife.

  Jenny returned to the table and spoke with her eyebrows raised. “Well, I can’t say exactly what happened, but I have a good idea of what caused the demise of the Davies family.”

  Zack and Ingunn looked up. “Oh yeah?” Zack asked.

  “I’m thinking it was dysentery, cholera or typhoid,” Jenny replied. “Those are all stomach conditions caused by poor sanitation, and apparently they weren’t all that uncommon back then.” Placing her hand on her belly, she added, “And my stomach hurt like crazy for that split second—it would certainly make sense that a stomach ailment was the problem.”

  “I felt it too,” Ingunn confirmed. “It does sound right.”

  Zack let out a little laugh, which was not the reaction Jenny was expecting. “What’s funny?”

  Shaking his head in acknowledgement that his statement was ridiculous, Zack explained, “I’m just thinking about typhoid. There was this guy Pete on my dad’s construction crew who was sick all the time—I mean all the time. We used to call him Typhoid Pete.” He lowered his eyebrows. “Although, if typhoid is a stomach bug, we had it all wrong; Pete mostly just coughed and sneezed a lot.” After another moment he added, “And if typhoid took out entire families, I guess it’s not all that funny of a joke, either.”

  Jenny wiped her eyes—there was never a dull moment with Zack around. “Well, we don’t know for sure if it took out this entire family. The jury’s still out as to whether it actually killed Samuel or not.” She glanced over Zack’s shoulder to look at his computer screen. “So, have you two made any headway on the North Carolina case?”

  “If I had to guess,” Zack said, “I would say it’s unrelated.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jenny remarked. “What makes you say that?”

  “This girl was a college student home for summer break. Yes, she partied, but she wasn’t a truck stop prostitute or a runaway.”

  “He wouldn’t have chosen her,” Ingunn said plainly. She gestured her head in Jenny’s direction. “Show her the picture.”

  Zack called up a photograph of the victim. She was indeed quite pale with blond hair, but she wore a smile that distinctly showed optimism. “This was taken on her twentieth birthday, just days before she went missing.”

  “Look at the nails,” Ingunn said.

  Assuming she meant fingernails, Jenny took note of the beautiful French manicure that this fair young woman wore.

  Ingunn continued, “He would have never taken a girl with those nails. A girl like that would be missed. He clearly prefers to deal with girls that can disappear easily and not be reported to the police.”

  Zack chimed in, “Even if she was high as a kite and wandering aimlessly around a truck stop offering her services to drivers, we think this guy would have known she wasn’t one of the strung out girls that worked for the truck stop pimp.”

  Jenny digested the information, feeling a strange mixture of disappointment and relief. The more victims this guy had, the more likely he was to leave some evidence behind. Although, if he had another dump site in a different state, he could have had dozens all up and down the east coast. His death toll could have been staggering. She deduced that this was ultimately good news. “But if this fair woman isn’t our other victim,” she noted, “who is?”

  The silence that engulfed the table was deafening.

  Jenny added to her question. “And what now? We’re not going to get any information from the truck stops today; they’re much too busy. But I don’t want to sit around and do nothing, either.”

  “Visit other truck stops,” Ingunn said.

  Zack looked at her. “Other truck stops?”

  With a nod she replied, “Up and down the highway. See if we get anything.”

  That tactic had worked before; Jenny once had to travel to Connecticut to get information about a Georgia murder. She glanced over in Zack’s direction. “So what do you think?”

  “I think it sounds like a good idea.”

  “Me too,” Jenny said. “Just let me grab a little bit to eat and we can be on our way.”

  As Jenny nibbled on her sandwich, Zack continued to do some more research. “It looks like they’ve created a profile of the Highway Killer,” he announced.

  Jenny’s eyes widened. “So who is it we’re looking for?”

  “A Caucasian male between twenty-five and forty years old. He should be a contributing member of society, nondescript, and a bit socially awkward, according to this.” Zack pointed at his laptop screen.

  “And harmless-looking,” Ingunn noted.

  Jenny figured that’s what nondescript had meant, but she didn’t dare correct her grandmother. “I guess they didn’t supply a name and address,” Jenny said.

  Zack continued to look at the screen. “No, they weren’t quite that detailed. They do note that he has to have ties to the area, but I think they’ve said that before.”

  “Unfortunately that means he could have lived here decades ago,” Jenny said. “Or he could simply have a relative that lives here. That information won’t necessarily help us find this guy; it will only help confirm if a suspect is viable.”

  Zack’s fingers continued to roam the keyboard. “Oh—they’ve identified another victim through dental records.”

  Jenny closed her eyes as she prepared to learn about yet another life taken too soon. She always hated seeing their faces, but she felt as if she owed the victims th
at much. “Who is it?”

  After reading silently for a moment, Zack announced, “Her name’s Shelby Ryerson. She’s from Florida, originally. She was last seen at home three years ago before she boarded a bus. She was going to travel the country, but she had no particular plans, apparently. She was just going to wing it.”

  He spun the computer around to reveal a curly-haired young woman with green eyes and freckles. Like the others, she smiled in her picture. Like the others, she had no idea what fate had in store for her.

  Jenny rubbed her temples with a sigh. “How old was she?”

  Zack returned the computer to its original position. After a pause he said, “Twenty-one when she left home. She’d be twenty-four now.”

  “Did they happen to mention how long she appeared to be at the dump site?”

  “The article said there were skeletal remains,” Zack announced. “I imagine it had been a while.”

  “How long does it take for remains to become skeletal?” Jenny asked.

  “Not long in the woods,” Ingunn concluded.

  Jenny assumed Zack was looking for a more formal response when he started typing again. “It looks like there’s no concrete answer to that question. It apparently depends on the time of year, amount of exposure to the elements and wildlife…that kind of thing.”

  “I guess we can narrow her time of death down to sometime before this week,” Jenny stated, placing her chin in her hand.

  “So how’s that sandwich coming along?” Ingunn asked abruptly.

  Jenny held up what was left of her lunch. “Just about done. Are you guys ready to hit the road?”

  Ingunn stood up from her chair. “I’ll get my coat.”

  “You’ve been awfully quiet back there,” Jenny said as their car continued to roll down I95 in North Carolina.

  From the back seat, Zack didn’t look up from his laptop. “I’m playing.”

  Once again, Zack managed to make her smile. “I’m actually going to be glad to stop at this one,” Jenny remarked, referring to the truck stop advertised for the next exit. “I genuinely have to use it.”

  She pulled the car off the highway and found the truck stop to be easily accessible. As she had done with the three other stops they’d visited along the highway, she headed toward the back row of the parking area. Just as Jenny started to get a funny feeling inside her, Ingunn patted her leg.

  “You too, huh Amma?”

  “There’s definitely something,” Ingunn noted.

  Jenny felt the eyes upon her as she exited the car. She wasn’t sure if she was being sized-up for sexual potential or if the intent was more to intimidate, but a man leaning against the building was definitely eyeing her up and down. Undeterred, she closed her eyes and tried to absorb any message she could perceive.

  Here. Why don’t you come on in? I’ll get you something to eat.

  She heard the words as clearly as if someone right in front of her had spoken them. There was kindness in the voice of the speaker—harmlessness, as Ingunn had suspected. He almost seemed to have a fatherly quality to his tone.

  Feeling the contact was over, Jenny opened one eye and glanced over at Ingunn, who appeared to still be having a reading. Jenny remained silent and motionless until Ingunn breathed deeply and resumed her natural posture. “So what did you get?” Jenny asked.

  “A little blue car,” Ingunn replied, “with something significant about the license plate.”

  “What about you?” Zack asked of Jenny.

  “He was offering the girl a meal again. He sounded friendly.”

  Zack turned to Ingunn. “You said there was something noteworthy about the license plate. Do you know what that something is?”

  “If I could have gotten that good of a glimpse, I’d have read the tag and this whole thing would be over.”

  Zack and Jenny both giggled.

  “All I know,” Ingunn continued, “is that when the car is found, the plate will have something special about it.”

  Jenny glanced back toward the man leaning against the building, noting he wasn’t looking at her anymore. That made her feel better as she stated, “Well, I have to hit the rest room. Anyone care to join me?”

  “Yeah, I want to go in.” Zack walked back to the car and tucked his laptop under his arm before they headed inside. Jenny found that behavior to be odd, although she determined he just didn’t want his computer to be stolen.

  Jenny concluded that the restroom wasn’t the worst she’d ever been in, which was a nice relief. When she headed back out, she saw Zack at the restaurant counter with his laptop open, showing an image to the wait staff.

  She approached to find the waitresses squinting and pointing at the screen. “Yes,” one of them said as Jenny got close enough to hear, “that one definitely looks familiar.”

  Another waitress nodded in agreement. “Yup. That’s Colleen, without a doubt.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?” Zack asked as Jenny stood next to him.

  The waitresses looked at each other as one spoke. “What was it, about six months ago?” The other waitress nodded in confirmation.

  Zack turned his computer back around, revealing multiple pictures of the same girl, only with different hair styles, cuts and colors. Jenny recognized the girl to be Shelby Ryerson, the latest of the victims to be identified. Making a face, Jenny asked, “Are you sure her name was Colleen?”

  “That’s what she went by,” the waitress confirmed.

  Jenny was still stumped by the discrepancy. “Did she tell you her last name?”

  The woman shook her head. “The working girls never do.”

  “So what’s the deal with her?” the other waitress posed.

  Zack broke the news. “Her body was one of a dozen that was found off the highway in Virginia.”

  “I’d heard about that!” the woman exclaimed before her face grew sad. “Colleen was one of them?”

  Lowering his eyes, Zack replied, “It appears that way.”

  “What a shame,” the other waitress said. “She was always such a nice girl. There was something different about her than the others. Most of the girls that work back here are so strung out they’re difficult to talk to—they’re almost like bodies with no souls. But Colleen just always had such nice manners…it seemed she was raised differently than the rest. I always felt that she didn’t belong here.”

  “I’d even told her that,” the other confirmed. “I used to say she should go back home and get some help, but she used to tell me that heroin had gotten the best of her. The sad thing is she knew it was ultimately going to be the death of her—she just hoped the end would be quick and painless.”

  Jenny scratched her head uncomfortably; she suspected that Colleen’s death had been neither.

  “Do you have any idea who she might have left with?” Zack asked.

  Both women shook their heads with certainty. “No. There are so many people coming in and out of here, and it’s not like we saw her every day. We can’t pinpoint exactly when she left here for good, and even if we could, it wouldn’t tell us anything.”

  Jenny felt her spirits sink. “Okay, well, thank you for your help.”

  “Thank you for trying to find justice for Colleen.”

  Zack took down the women’s names and phone numbers for future reference before heading through the exit doors.

  “Wow,” Jenny remarked, “I’m quite impressed! I had no idea that playing meant you were putting different hair styles on our victims. That was very smart thinking.”

  “I figured those pictures from the articles were taken when the girls still lived at home. I was sure they’d look quite different after spending some time prostituting. If we wanted anyone from a truck stop to recognize them, we’d need to doctor their appearances a little bit.”

  “But how did you do it?”

  “I’m savvy.”

  Jenny rolled her eyes. “I’m serious.”

  “The other night when you and Amma were summoni
ng Samuel, I downloaded a program that allowed me to try different hair styles on pictures of faces. The program was offered by a salon, and it was designed to let women actually see themselves with certain haircuts before they got them, but I thought it would be useful here. I downloaded pictures of the victims, Photoshopped out their real hair, and added different styles and colors. I actually made their faces appear thinner, too…more gaunt. I figured prostitution and drug addiction would have that effect on them.”

  Jenny stopped in her tracks. “Holy shit.”

  “What is it?”

  She squinted to get a better idea of whether she was actually witnessing what she thought she was. Unfortunately her suspicions appeared to be confirmed. “I think Amma is talking to the pimp.”

  Chapter 10

  “Oh my God,” Zack said as they quickened their pace. “What is she thinking?”

  When Zack and Jenny got within earshot of the conversation, Jenny heard Ingunn say, “Don’t let it happen.”

  The conversation didn’t sound like it was troubled in any way; the pimp actually looked mildly amused by Ingunn’s determination.

  “Hi,” Zack said to the man, “I see you met Amma.”

  The man raised his head in acknowledgement. With a sinister smile, he said out of the side of his mouth, “Yeah, I met her.”

  Zack stepped forward, although he looked visibly uncomfortable. “So, what’s going on?”

  Ingunn clearly didn’t share in the discomfort. “I’m telling him to warn his girls against men in blue cars who offer them food.”

  In a voice that would have intimidated most people, the man said, “She said some sick bastard is killing my girls.”

  Suddenly Jenny understood Ingunn’s angle. “Yes,” Jenny agreed emphatically. “He took your girl Colleen, and he needs to be stopped.” She pointed to Zack’s laptop. “Show him the picture.”

  Zack opened his laptop, which seemed to take three lifetimes to load. The pictures of Colleen with various hairstyles were still on the screen, and Zack clumsily pointed to the image the waitresses had recognized. “This girl,” Zack said. “She was found off the highway in Virginia...well, her body was, anyway.”