But he never made it.
According to his mother, he was always on the skinny side and had issues gaining weight. He was six and a half at the time of the abduction but looked closer to five. His seventh birthday came and went, with no sign of the child. Everyone was still hoping he would be found alive and well, until four nights ago, when his body was found floating in a harbor, not very far away from this Simon’s address.
She thought about that and looked over maps of exactly where the body had been found versus where this guy’s apartment was. They were less than half a mile apart. Still, in that area, half a mile was a long distance, as that area had a high-density population. She wasn’t even sure what to do with this information from Simon. She was pretty damn sure her sergeant didn’t want to know anything about it. It’s not like Simon had offered anything helpful, but still, she felt duty-bound to report it. Even if not credible. Besides, she knew all about charlatans. He might not look like the normal ones they saw at the station, but that didn’t change anything.
She also didn’t know what to do about the little boy Simon had called Timothy.Timmy. Just the mention of her brother’s name caused a lifetime of hurt.
It was just about lunchtime, so she would stop to talk to her boss on her way out. She grabbed her wallet, pulled out a few bills to stuff into her pocket, tossed her wallet back into her desk drawer, and walked down the hallway, heading for the front door. She would grab a bowl of soup around the corner at her favorite Jewish deli. She absolutely loved their food, and it didn’t matter what the special was, she’d have it and consider herself lucky. As she walked toward Colby’s office, her footsteps slowed. When she got there, she saw through the glass window that he was alone.
He called out, “Come on in, Kate.” She opened the door and hesitated. “Come in.” She came in, took a seat when he motioned to it, and asked, “What’s up?”
“Three days ago we had a guy walk into the station,” she said. “He had these nightmares.”
His eyebrows shot up. “So we’re talking to people about nightmares now?”
“I heard him out,” she said. “It was about him seeing a series of children in his nightmares, from a little boy that he said the vision seemed to be from years ago to another little boy, who he said was more recent. Several others popped in and out in a continuous stream of ugly situations. The recent boy appeared dead in his dream, and the name on the bed above his body read ‘Jason.’”
Colby leaned forward. “Jason?”
“Yes,” she said. “When I heard that, I went and double-checked the records to see if his statement followed the description of Jason Holloworth,” she said. “Apparently he was already very, very skinny and had a great deal of trouble gaining weight. The stranger who walked in”—she looked down at her fingers as she tried to remember his name—“Steven St. Laurant, I believe. No, Simon St. Laurant,” she corrected. “He had put his age at six and very emaciated.”
“This guy sees himself as some kind of psychic?”
The corners of her mouth quirked up. “I did ask him that,” she said. “He was almost offended.”
“Why?” her boss asked. “Unless he was involved? Knew the victim? Knew the family? Saw the boy alive? Dead?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know what he said.”
“Have you done anything with his info?”
“I logged it, but that’s it,” she said. “We got a little busy with a couple other cases, so I haven’t followed up.”
“It is crazy right now. Check the details that he gave you on the other children, when you get a moment,” he said. “Maybe something else will line up too.”
“And if it does?”
“There’s the question, isn’t it? At that point we’ll get the team on it. First make sure he isn’t the person behind it all,” he snapped, as he stared out the doorway. “We’ve seen that happen a time or two.”
“I don’t understand the psychology behind letting the police know about these cases if you are the one actually perpetrating the crimes.”
“The psychology of the criminal mind is something we could spend lifetimes trying to understand, and we still never really will. Talk to our psychologist on staff about the subject someday. You’ll never get her to shut up.” he said. “So we don’t believe this guy, check it out, and make sure that we have some understanding of where and what he’s doing,” he said. “Then we’ll haul him back in and have a more detailed conversation with him.”
“Will do, when I get back,” she said. “I’m heading down to Marco’s for the special today.”
“Oh, what’s on special?” he asked, looking up with interest.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “I always love it anyway.”
He laughed and waved her off.
She took the stairs, needing the exercise and the stress relief. Since she’d joined the division, it seemed like she worked harder, longer, and more intensely than she ever had. She’d spent twelve years on the force, trying to make detective. Now that she was here, for some reason she thought some of her stress would reduce. Instead, she was in this constant battle to prove that the department had made the right decision in hiring her. Too bad no one else seemed to agree with that decision, but they would eventually.
*
He walked alongthe shoreline, loving the fresh roll of the waves, the smell of the sea, that salty tang to the air. It made him feel refreshed, renewed. His life was one long sad history, but he was making the best of it, finding little areas to make himself smile. Somebody should have taken him out a long time ago; he’d even gone looking for help at one point. But nobody seemed to care; nobody seemed to have the budget; nobody seemed to want to help, so he just turned to his nature and embraced it instead. A part of him hoped one day he’d get caught, but another part knew that, at this point, he’d do anything and everything he could to stay free to continue playing his games.
He was well past being fixed or rehabilitated or whatever society thought they could do with him. And he wasn’t ready to give up his pastime just yet. As he wandered along, he smiled to see the groups of families with children. It wasn’t quite warm enough to be in the water, but people had sand buckets, digging and making sandcastles and just generally having fun. He watched one father sit beside his two young sons, and he murmured, “Good job, Daddy.”