Full Tilt

58

Somewhere in the United States

After driving more than four hundred miles, Sorin Zurrn’s body was still tight with rage.

When he’d finally stopped at a cast-off, godforsaken motel called The Slumbering Timbers, he nearly lost it with the clerk, who took too long to respond to the desk bell. Something to do with his hearing, he’d apologized when he’d emerged from the back, cigar in the corner of his mouth. Pleased to have a guest, he attempted to make amends after glancing through the window at Zurrn’s vehicle as he registered.

“Betcha you don’t get many complaints in your line of work.”

Zurrn stared at the clerk long enough to make him uncomfortable. Then he tossed cash onto the counter to cover the night and snatched his key.

In his room Zurrn set up his laptops and started to work.

He had to think, but it was hard to concentrate in the wake of the day’s events. He removed his thick-framed glasses, wig and goatee, then took a shower. Under the needles of hot water, he pounded his fists to the side of his head.

After showering, he dressed and walked across the empty parking lot. He’d parked in a remote, dimly lit section that bordered on a wooded area. His vehicle stood alone, hidden in the shadows. He glanced back at the motel. No one else was in sight. His keys jingled as he went to the passenger side of the black van with tinted glass and a small silver cross affixed to each rear window. Signs on the front doors read Vitalee & Denridder Mortuary Services.

A low rumble sounded as he rolled open the side door.

The rear interior was filled with heavy tarp. He threw it back to a reveal a steel casket, secured with a chain and lock. The lock clicked as he opened it and raised the top half of the two-piece lid.

In the darkness, the whites of Vanessa’s eyes glowed as she looked up.

Her mouth was taped.

Her hands and ankles were bound.

“You know what you did, don’t you?”

She stared at him.

“Answer me!”

Vanessa blinked, tears filled her eyes and she nodded.

“You broke the cardinal rule! I was in the process of cultivating a new specimen, and you destroyed that, too!”

Vanessa sobbed.

“After all of our time together, after all I’ve done for you, you betray me!”

He dropped the lid. Secured the chains then returned to his room.

Energized by his visit with his most cherished specimen, Zurrn resumed work on his laptops, reviewing details, making preparations, activating stages that needed activating.

Near him, the motel TV flickered with the latest on the breaking news out of Minnesota and its connection to the case in Rampart, New York. The case was a lead story across the country. He viewed a special report with caution, concern and a sense of pride.

Carl Nelson was the most wanted man in America.

Variations of his appearance were displayed on the screen.

Zurrn had no concerns. Few people paid attention and he changed his disguises constantly.

“The suspect known as Carl Nelson is believed to be responsible for the murders of sixteen people, possibly more, according to the FBI…”

Photos of the identified victims with locator maps and timelines of their disappearances filled the screen.

My beautiful specimens. Zurrn marveled at his collection.

The story zigzagged with images from the Lost River State Forest to Minneapolis and the Mall of America, then the property in a corner of Hennepin County. There was a range of long shots and aerial footage of the house and garage at Hennepin.

“…sources tell us that a fourteen-year-old girl from suburban Minneapolis was lured to a meeting with an online friend at the Mall of America. That friend turned out to be the wanted suspect, and after abducting the teen and driving to this remote property, they came upon another female victim who’d escaped. In the chaos that ensued, the teen says the woman helped her escape to tell her story. However, police sources tell us, the woman was recaptured by the suspect and remains missing…”

Zurrn turned the volume up for the next segment of the report.

“…this story continues to evolve with one remarkable development after another. Sources tell us that police believe the escaped woman is Vanessa Page, also known as Tara Dawn Mae, a girl missing for fifteen years from Alberta, Canada. Now, one of the reporters covering this story is Vanessa’s sister, Kate Page, with Newslead. Kate has been on a lifelong pursuit to learn the truth behind her sister’s disappearance, a story that reaches back to a tragic car crash in the Canadian Rockies. The tragedy, which Kate Page survived, led her on a journalistic investigation that has recently resulted in several stunning revelations…”

Kate Page appeared on the screen.

“…Kate Page reports today for Newslead that Carl Nelson had resided in Denver under the name Jerome Fell when he’d abducted Tara Dawn Mae. Prior to that, Fell was actually Sorin Zurrn, who grew up in Chicago…”

Zurrn froze.

Images swam on the screen, images of the life he’d buried, images of Zurrn as a teen, then images of his mother, of their home in Chicago, his school, his mother’s grave, and the park where Tonya Plesivsky died.

Zurrn stared at Kate Page.

How dare she trespass on my pain!

Then came something about the FBI, the RCMP and warrants. There were images of police forensic units at addresses in Chicago, in Denver, in Alberta.

Zurrn groaned with rage and anguish as he glared at Kate Page.

She’d ripped open an ancient wound.

How dare she do this?

The camera tightened on the reporter as she stared into it.

“Now the world knows the truth about Sorin Zurrn. Now I know the truth about my brave, beautiful sister, Vanessa. For too long there’s been too much fear and pain. We love you, Vanessa. We’re coming for you.”

Zurrn slammed his fists on the table.

“I’ll show you pain! I’ll show the whole world!”