Bad Thoughts

Chapter 2

Shannon only half heard his partner puffing as they made it up the three flights to Kyle Rowley’s apartment. He couldn’t help thinking about Rowley, about how certain Rowley was of his wife’s feelings. If it was Susie, could he say for sure she wouldn’t spend the night with another man? When they first got married he probably could’ve, but now he’d only give even money on what she’d do. At best, they were the same odds for whether he’d care…

As Shannon opened the door to Rowley’s apartment a smell stopped him; a rotting, sour smell that had assaulted him in his dream. It was fleeting, though, disappearing almost as soon as he breathed it in. Still, it unnerved him.

“Did you smell anything?” Shannon asked.

“What am I supposed to have smelled?”

“I don’t know. Something like bad body odor. Except worse.”

“Sorry, pal, I didn’t smell it. I’ll take the kitchen.”

The apartment was neat, orderly, no evidence of a recent struggle. Shannon found a picture of Janice Rowley in the living room. He picked it up and studied it. She was attractive, blond and petite with a nice, easygoing smile. There was something appealing about her smile, something warm and genuine about it. A cold numbness pressed against Shannon’s forehead as he stared at that smile. The woman in the picture was the same one from his dream.

He put down the picture and found a chair. He sat down until the coldness went away. Then he thought, what the hell. He couldn’t help what he dreamed about. He got up, found the clothes hamper in the hallway, dumped its contents onto the floor and started sifting through it, searching for any torn or bloody clothing. He was at the bottom of the pile when DiGrazia yelled out to him to meet him in the kitchen.

DiGrazia had a hard grin etched on his face as Shannon met him. “Notice anything?” he asked.

A drawer was opened showing a set of steak knifes. One of the knives was missing.

“Did you check the rest of the kitchen for it?”

“Yeah,” DiGrazia said, “it’s not here. So what do you think?”

“What am I supposed to think?”

“That maybe our guy stabbed her in the heat of the moment, that he then dumped her and the car, and fed us that abduction story.”

“They got wall-to-wall carpeting. I haven’t seen any blood stains.”

“He could’ve been lucky with the way she bled.”

Shannon was shaking his head. “If she arrived home at six and he showed up at the precinct at seven it wouldn’t have left him enough time to dump the body and the car and also clean up.”

“The car wasn’t discovered until this morning. He could’ve gotten rid of both her and the car after reporting her missing. He probably knew he’d be told to go home and wait.”

Shannon was shaking his head.

“What about the knife, then?”

“Knives get lost. It happens.”

“Come on.”

“If she was abducted,” Shannon said, “maybe the perp came back for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’d have her keys and her address. Maybe it struck him as an amusing thing to do-use one of her own knives on her.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Shannon stared straight at his partner. “I don’t see any blood stains on the carpeting, I don’t see anything to indicate she was stabbed here. I don’t think we’re being conned. And one of the steak knives is missing.”

“Jesus Christ,” DiGrazia swore softly. “You got a twisted way of thinking.” He paused for a moment. “You see any point in getting the apartment dusted?”

“It’s cold outside. I’m sure our guy was wearing gloves. Assuming the knife wasn’t just lost.”

DiGrazia was scowling, a deep, hard scowl that creased the bottom half of his face. “If it’s working out that way, partner-”

“The knife could just be lost,” Shannon suggested without any real conviction.

“Shit,” DiGrazia swore. Then he stopped and gave Shannon a long, hard stare. “Is something wrong, partner? You don’t look too good.”

Shannon shook his head and muttered, “nothing” before heading towards the door. He wasn’t about to tell DiGrazia that he had seen the missing steak knife in his dream.

The story they got at Janice Rowley’s office was consistent; their missing coworker was happily married and was not looking for anything extracurricular. One of the accountants remembered her leaving shortly after five. Like the others interviewed, she seemed visibly shaken on hearing that Rowley was missing.

Shannon tried getting back to the extracurricular angle, asking whether there were any guys in the office who had a tough time taking no for an answer.

The woman just shook her head. “They’re accountants,” she said as if that explained the matter.

When they got back to the station Kyle Rowley complained about how long he had been sitting there waiting for them.

“I’m sorry about that, but we’ve been busy,” Shannon explained. “We’ve put a description of your wife out on the wire and we’re faxing her photo to every department in New England. We’ve also released the story and photos to the local stations and newspapers. If anyone’s seen Janice we’ll know soon.”

“Did you get anything from her car?” Rowley asked.

Shannon shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We didn’t find anything that’s going to help us.”

Rowley seemed lost for a moment, his eyes dazed before focusing on DiGrazia and then Shannon. He reached over and handed a pad of paper to Shannon. “Here’s what you asked for,” he said. His body seemed to crumple as he sat back in his chair.

There were about a dozen restaurants listed on the front sheet. Shannon quickly read through the rest of what Rowley had written and then handed the pad to DiGrazia.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Rowley said to no one in particular. “Oh, Jesus, poor Janice.”

“We’ll do everything we can to find her.”

“I should be home,” Rowley said.

“I’d like you to stay a little while longer. We have a polygraph set up for one.”

“I have to get home. Somebody could be trying to call.”

“There were no messages on your answering machine. I don’t think this is a kidnapping.”

Rowley’s long face screwed up as if he were trying to keep from crying.

“Do you know if any of your steak knives are missing?” DiGrazia asked.

“What?”

“One of them is missing. Do you know about it?”

“No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shannon said. “Another half hour and you’ll take the polygraph test. Then you can go home.”

“I don’t like this,” DiGrazia stated in a low, guttural voice to his partner when they were alone. His complexion had turned a dull gray, his eyes closed to thin slits.

Shannon didn’t say anything.

“Why would some freak have to go back to her apartment to pick up a knife? I just don’t like it.”

“It may not be that way.” Shannon felt tired. Maybe more beat than tired, as if he were dragging cement blocks from around his legs and arms. He poured himself a cup of coffee. “I want to see if I can pick up her trail. Would you mind hanging around for the polygraph? Maybe you could do a computer search, see if anyone’s been released who could fit this.”

DiGrazia nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure. Give me a call if you find anything.”

The manager of the Bombay House recognized Janice Rowley’s picture. “Yes, she was here.”

“Do you remember what time?”

“She used a credit card. Wait, let me get the receipts.” He bent down under the register and pulled out a tin box and brought it up to the counter. After sifting through it he pulled out a slip of paper.

“Here it is,” he said as he handed the receipt to Shannon. “She was here at five forty-five. I had written the time in the left corner. It helps me keep track of when we’re busiest.”

Shannon noticed Janice Rowley’s signature on the receipt. He asked whether the manager remembered anything else that could help.

“No,” he shook his head after thinking about it. “She paid for her food and left. She’s a nice woman, though. She comes here often. I hope nothing has happened.”

The restaurant was in Somerville, five minutes from Janice Rowley’s apartment. Shannon thanked the manager for his help, then checked out the small parking lot in back. It would’ve been dark and the cars there would have been obscured from the street. As Shannon stood in the parking lot a chill ran through him. He lit a cigarette and breathed in deeply, trying to pull some warmth from it. Janice Rowley had parked there last night and someone had gotten in her car and had waited for her. Sometime later that person had dumped her car at the industrial park. Shannon closed his eyes and imagined what it had been like. Janice Rowley walking briskly, almost running towards her car to get out from the cold. Sitting in the front seat, putting the key in the ignition, and then a hand from the back covering her mouth, another grabbing her by the throat. Her slipping out of consciousness…

Shannon opened his eyes, cold sweat running down his back. For a brief heartbeat he had smelled that sickly pungent odor again. For that same brief heartbeat he had a vague image of the person who had been hiding in Janice Rowley’s car. An image of someone large, of diseased flesh, and of evil. He couldn’t hold on to it, though. It slipped away into the ether.

Shannon took another drag on his cigarette and then tossed it to the ground. The question was, What happened next? Did he drop Janice Rowley off someplace and then dump the car, or did he exchange cars at the industrial park, moving Janice Rowley to the trunk of his car? It would’ve been about six o’clock by the time he drove to the industrial park and there would be too many people around. It would’ve been too dangerous to move a body between cars. No, he left Janice Rowley someplace first, then got rid of her car and walked back to her. He got to the Bombay House parking lot the same way, by walking.

On his way back to the station Shannon made a detour to the industrial park to talk to security there. No one saw anything unusual the night before, nor did they have any video security cameras for the parking lot.

When Shannon arrived back at the station he told DiGrazia about finding where Janice Rowley had stopped to pick up dinner and his thoughts about what happened afterwards. DiGrazia listened patiently and then told him that Kyle Rowley’s polygraph test had been inconclusive.

“That’s too bad. Was there a feel one way or another?”

“Nah. You know Parker, if the results are fuzzy then the test is inconclusive. That’s all he’s willing to say. I didn’t get any type of read from watching Rowley.”

“Anything about the steak knife?”

“Inconclusive, just like the rest of the test.”

“Where’s Rowley now?”

“I sent him home.”

Shannon was shaking his head. “It would’ve been nice to have that test back him up, but I don’t think he’s involved. I have a strong gut feeling Janice Rowley was abducted from that parking lot.”

“She could’ve gotten home with the food. She could’ve been killed in the apartment and then dumped. That nasty odor you got a whiff of could’ve been spoiled Indian food. Hubby could turn out to be as inconclusive as his test results.”

“I don’t think so.” Shannon paused as he tried to block out an image from his dream of Janice Rowley bound and gagged with red lines crisscrossing her naked body. “Not from the vibes I picked up from that parking lot,” he added after a while.

DiGrazia gave his partner a hard look. He was going to make a crack about whether Shannon had called the psychic hotline, but he trusted his partner’s intuition, maybe more than his own. “You think she was left somewhere within walking distance of where her car was dumped?”

“More specific than that, I think she was left somewhere between that restaurant and the industrial park. It’s about four miles between the two. I think our guy walked a couple of miles to get to that restaurant. He probably didn’t want to walk more than a couple of miles from where he left her car. My guess is his hole is closer to the industrial park. He’d be too anxious to get back to his victim to want to walk too far.”

“And you think she’s still alive?”

“What time did Kyle Rowley leave his apartment this morning?”

“Around five. He said he had to do something, so he drove around looking for his wife’s car. He came to the station around seven.”

“Sometime after five this morning our perp would’ve retrieved that steak knife. Yeah, she’s still alive.”

DiGrazia made a face as if he had stomach problems. “I don’t know,” he said. “If it was an abduction I don’t see why he couldn’t have moved her to another car. He could’ve parked somewhere and waited until the industrial park emptied out.”

“He’d be too anxious to wait.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still not convinced. Anyway, take a look at what the computer spat out.”

DiGrazia handed Shannon a folder. Inside was a listing of sexual offenders who had been released over the last six months. Each of them had a prior history of either abducting their victims or using knives on them.

“Four of them are in the Boston area,” DiGrazia said.

“This is going to keep us busy.”

“I still have to check on their addresses-”

“Take your time. I want to talk to Brady. I want to see if I can plant a bug in his ear.”

DiGrazia took the folder back and scanned through the listing, his eyes closing to the point where it looked as if he were going to start napping. As Shannon walked away he heard his partner pick up the phone and start dialing.

After Shannon entered his office, Brady told him to pull up a chair and then asked him whether he knew that Rowley’s test results had been inconclusive. Brady showed a thin smile; his eyes, though, remained as dull as a mannequin’s.

“I don’t think he’s involved,” Shannon said. “I found where his wife stopped to pick up dinner last night. An Indian restaurant in Somerville. My gut feeling is she was abducted in the parking lot.”

“Any witnesses?”

“No.”

“No one heard or saw anything?”

“Not that I know.”

“But your instincts tell you she was abducted there.” Brady’s smile faded, his expression becoming as dull as his eyes. “You have no evidence of any kind she was abducted. For all we know she picked up dinner, went home, and met an untimely end at the hands of her husband. Statistically, that’s most likely what happened. The little evidence we have seems to suggest that; her husband’s inconclusive test results, his behavior, the missing knife.”

“About the knife-”

“Yes, I know. Joe told me your theory.”

“I have a real strong feeling about this. And I think I have a solid read on the husband.”

“You didn’t have any read when I asked you earlier.”

“I’ve got one now.”

“Is that right?” Brady’s eyes opened a bit wider but his soft, round face remained unperturbed. “That’s just wonderful, Bill. By the way, since the twelve o’clock news ran I’ve gotten calls from both our local universities, wanting to know what we are going to do to protect their student population from being randomly abducted.”

“You could tell them to keep their students out of Somerville.”

“Very constructive, can I quote you on that?”

“Feel free.”

“I wish you had cleared it with me before going to the media,” Brady said, his round face deflating a bit. “If this turns out to be a domestic situation which we could have wrapped up-”

Brady stopped himself and took a deep breath. “Prove it’s an abduction. Find me some evidence, any evidence. Talk to the individuals from Joe’s computer search.”

“Here’s what I’d like to do.” Shannon took a map from his inside jacket pocket and unfolded it on Brady’s desk. Both the Indian restaurant and the industrial park were marked off and a circle drawn between the two. “I’d like us to do a door-to-door search of all properties within the circle.”

“This is another attempt at humor, right?”

“She’s being held somewhere within that area. She’s still alive, Martin, she’s got to be. If we move quickly we can save her.”

Brady sat staring at his officer, his small eyes bland, his expression incredulous.

“Trust me on this, Martin-”

“Find me some evidence,” Brady stated softly, impatience edging into his voice.

Shannon stood up, took the map from Brady’s desk, and then shrugged and moved towards the door.

“By the way,” Brady called out, “she had a hundred thousand dollar life insurance policy.”

“Yeah, I know,” Shannon answered without turning back. “It’s a company benefit. Her husband wasn’t involved with it.”

“It’s still motivation. Find out if he’s having financial problems, or better yet, a girlfriend. Do your homework. Then talk door-to-door search to me.”

Back at DiGrazia’s desk, Shannon was asked if he was ready to visit some freaks.

John Roper was soft-looking, round, and mostly bald with a few wisps of blond hair scattered on his head. He had a pockmarked complexion, and a thin, affable smile. Nine years earlier he had drugged a young woman in a bar in Providence, got her to his car, and then held her captive for four days in the basement of a condemned building. During those four days he sexually assaulted her and terrorized her with a straight-edge razor. One night while sleeping he left the razor edge down against her throat. Somehow, even though both her hands and feet were bound, she was able to free herself with it. John Roper was arrested and later sentenced to a minimum of twenty years. In August, the State of Rhode Island paroled him and he relocated to Revere, Massachusetts.

He was the third sex offender Shannon and DiGrazia had tried to visit. The first one, a twenty-four-year-old who had raped a couple of teenage girls while a juvenile, was living with his mother in Arlington. The mother insisted her son was with her the previous night, got belligerent, and threw the officers out. They talked with a few of her neighbors, none of whom could confirm the mother’s story. The general feeling they got from their talks was the son wouldn’t have had the initiative to get to Somerville by himself.

The next person on their list turned out to be in police lockup in Boston, arrested two weeks earlier on a narcotics charge. Now they were with Roper at the auto garage where he worked, and Roper seemed nervous about it, rubbing his hands against his overalls and forcing an overly affable smile. He asked whether they could question him someplace else.

“What’s wrong with right here?” Shannon asked. “Your boss must know you’re an ex-convict?”

DiGrazia said, “He probably does, but I bet he doesn’t know what you were in for, does he, John? If he’s got a wife or daughter he might feel differently about having you around his garage.”

“Come on, guys, there’s a doughnut shop across the street. I’ll buy you a couple-”

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“No-”

“I think he was trying to be funny,” Shannon said.

“Come on,” Roper pleaded, “I’m trying to start a new life here. I’ve been paroled-”

“By Rhode Island,” Shannon observed. “I don’t think Massachusetts had any say in it.”

“I bet you’re right,” DiGrazia agreed. “So, John, why’d you pick our state to settle in?”

“My sister lives here. I’m staying with her-”

An older man with large, grease-stained hands and a cigar stub stuck in his mouth had walked over to them. He asked whether anything was wrong.

“We need to ask your employee some questions,” Shannon said.

“What about?”

“About a crime that was committed last night.”

“What type of crime?”

“A woman was abducted.”

“And you think John’s involved?”

“From his criminal record we need to talk to him.”

Alarm showed in the older man’s eyes. He looked quickly at Roper and then away from him, settling on a spot near his feet. “I had no idea,” he murmured to no one in particular, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “I better leave you officers alone,” he croaked as he moved away.

Roper’s smile disappeared. His skin had turned a blotchy white, his eyes becoming nothing more than small, gray holes. He trembled slightly as he watched the older man walk way. “I’m going to lose my job,” he moaned. “Fucking Jesus Christ, I’m going to lose my job because of you assholes.”

“Shut up,” DiGrazia stepped forward and pushed a thick finger into Roper’s chest.

“One of my conditions for parole is being employed,” Roper said, his tone not quite human, “another is chemical castration. I get shots every week. I got nothing down there anymore. What the fuck would I want with a woman, you assholes?”

“Nice mouth on this guy,” DiGrazia said.

“A real sweetheart,” Shannon agreed.

“Maybe we should take him back to the station. If nothing else we can teach him some manners,” DiGrazia said, moving closer to Roper.

Roper took a step back. “You don’t have to take me anywhere-”

“Shut up,” DiGrazia said.

“Are you going to be civil to us?” Shannon asked.

“I didn’t do anything,” Roper said. “I told you, with the shots I’m getting I don’t have any use for a woman.”

“We’ll check that,” DiGrazia said. “But even if you can’t get it up anymore there’s still the violence part of it. You’re a violent man after all, John.”

“You still like to cut them, don’t you, John?” Shannon asked.

“No, it’s not like that-”

“I read the report on that woman in Providence. You cut her over sixty times. It’s a wonder she didn’t bleed to death.”

“Those cuts were superficial. I didn’t really hurt her that bad. And it’s not like that anymore, not with the treatment I’ve had and the shots I’m getting-”

“You don’t have to explain, John. We understand. You like to cut women. The one you took last night, where is she now? Where’d you leave her?”

“I didn’t do anything. I tell you, with the shots-”

“We’re sick of hearing that crap,” DiGrazia said. “Where is she?”

Roper closed his mouth. Something shut down within his small, gray eyes. “I’m not talking to you anymore,” he said. “I want a lawyer.”

“Your choice, John,” DiGrazia said. He had Roper put his hands behind his back and then he cuffed him. DiGrazia and Shannon then led him out of the garage to their patrol car.

Back at the station, DiGrazia read Roper his rights and had him initial different paragraphs of it and sign at the bottom.

“We’ll get you your lawyer now,” DiGrazia said. “Then I’m going to get a search warrant for your room at your sister’s. I’ll find something that will break your parole.”

Shannon said, “A couple of grams of coke in his sock drawer would do it.”

“That’s usually a good place to find it,” DiGrazia said. “Then we’ll send you back to Rhode Island. I’m sure your friends in lockup will be glad to see you again, especially now you’ve been turned into a fat, little eunuch.”

“Should be loads of fun for them,” Shannon agreed. “They’ll have a ball.”

Roper started to cry. “I didn’t do anything.”

Shannon said, “You don’t have to talk to us. You’ve already asked for a lawyer.”

“I swear to you I didn’t do anything.”

“Are you telling us you’ve changed your mind about wanting a lawyer?” Shannon asked. “You willing to talk to us, see if you can clear this up?”

“Sure,” Roper said. He was still sobbing. He rubbed both his palms against his eyes. “We can clear this up ’cause I didn’t do anything.”

“A woman was abducted last night. It looks a lot like what you did in Providence.”

Roper took both palms away from his eyes and looked at Shannon. His small eyes had a pinkish look to them, like rat’s eyes. “I was home all last night,” he said, sniffling.

“Home-you mean your sister’s house?”

He nodded. “They have a small in-law apartment in the basement they’re letting me use. I was tired yesterday. After work I went home with a bottle of vodka and a quart of orange juice.”

“What time did you get off work?”

“Five. Kelley, the owner of the garage, can back me up on that. I bought the vodka and juice a block away from my sister’s house and was home by quarter past.”

“Your sister see you?”

“I don’t think so. I have a separate entrance.”

“She doesn’t check up on you?”

Roper shook his head. “She might’ve heard me. I turned on my stereo when I got home.”

“That’s it?” Shannon asked. “You didn’t talk to anyone or see anyone last night?”

Roper looked away from Shannon. “I don’t have any friends here,” he said. “And there’s really no point to me trying to date.”

DiGrazia moved his chair close to Roper’s, and then leaned forward until his face was inches from the ex-convict’s. At first Roper tried to ignore him, then he tried to push his own chair back. DiGrazia stopped him.

“You fucking with us?” he asked.

“No, I’m not fucking with you-”

“I think you are,” he said. “I like you for this one, John. If you took this woman, I’m going to find out. Trust me, I will. And if you did, and if you’ve been sitting here lying to us, when we get you I’m going to make sure you don’t go back to Rhode Island. I’ll pull whatever strings I have to get you into the Federal system and into Danamora. It’s a nasty place, John. A fat eunuch like you won’t last a month there.”

“I’m not lying.”

“If you’ve been lying, right now is the last fucking chance you’ll get to come clean. Have you been lying to us?”

Roper just shook his head. He bit down on his bottom lip, his small, pinkish-gray eyes bleary with tears.

“What time did you get to work this morning?” Shannon asked.

Roper hesitated. Shannon said, “If you’ve been telling the truth so far, don’t start lying now. Your boss will be able to answer this one for us.”

“I came in after ten,” Roper said. “I was hung over from the vodka.”

“Okay,” Shannon stood up. “We’re going to go talk with your sister now.”

“Am I free to go?”

“No. If you want a lawyer we’ll arrest you and process you on a kidnapping charge. Maybe you’ll be able to get bail afterwards. If you’re willing to sit until we talk to your sister, we’ll let you go if she backs up your story. You want a lawyer?”

Roper shook his head.

As the two cops got to the door, Roper spoke to Shannon. “You two put me through a lot for no reason,” he said.

Shannon considered the ex-convict. “I’m not sure I agree with that. We questioned you, John, that’s all. It’s not like we held you hostage for four days, sexually assaulting you and cutting you with a straight-edge. Any scars came from you, not us.”

Shannon closed the door on him. DiGrazia was waiting in the hallway. He gave his partner a hard look. “I think that sack of shit is lying to us,” he said.

A weary sigh broke loose from Shannon. “Maybe. Let’s go talk to his sister.”