CHAPTER NINETEEN
As May drove to Dennisville, the town where Arlette Sime lived, Owen plotted the coordinates of this suspect's last known address on the map. She waited to see if he drew any conclusions, and out of the corner of her eye, saw him give a confident nod.
“Dennisville is definitely central to where the killings have occurred,” he said.
“That is a hopeful sign,” May said.
May felt optimistic about this suspect. He was connected to the second victim, but in such a way that nobody had picked it up. An old association. Years had gone by.
She wasn't sure why William had waited until now to commit the murders, but there could well have been a triggering episode. Perhaps even something to do with his neglectful mother, who had previously had to put her son into foster care.
Or maybe William himself had been in prison and had recently gotten out. There were all sorts of potential scenarios and reasons.
"May, I've figured out something else here," Owen said.
"What's that?" she asked, her hands tight on the wheel as she drove.
"It's not only family members he's targeting. Do you realize that all these victims so far are authority figures? That definitely points to a delinquent, wanting to take some kind of revenge," he said.
May thought back on the occupations of the bomb blast victims.
"You're right. The lawyer would be an authority figure. I guess police are authority figures, too. But what about the most recent victim? She was retired. Could he have made a mistake? Surely not. I mean, she must have been grabbed while she was fishing. He couldn't have mistaken her for anyone else."
“I actually spoke about the case to my mother last night, and she told me she knew Mrs. Jacobs quite well. She gave me some background,” Owen said.
"And?" May asked.
"Before she retired, Mrs. Jacobs was a property manager. She had a very big portfolio of rentals that she was in charge of," Owen said. "She retired about five or six years ago. I believe she was a very tough businesswoman before that, with the reputation of being a battle ax."
May felt impressed all over again by Owen's local knowledge, thanks to his mother. A problem with authority was a contributing factor for a delinquent teen.
The miles could not fly by fast enough for May, and clearly for Owen as well.
"Here we are," he said, sounding excited, as they approached the turnoff for Dennisville.
This, May knew, was one of the poorest towns in Tamarack County. It was right on the town's western edge. Years ago it had been a thriving industrial area, but most industry had since moved to Chestnut Hill, which was closer to the highway.
This meant the town had seen a light manufacturing decline. Dennisville had suffered from loss of jobs, and had seen its population decline also.
May felt grateful that most towns within Tamarack County had a stable economy, especially since tourism played a huge role within the county, but unfortunately, Dennisville was too far from anywhere scenic like lakes, forests, or mountains, to benefit from that. It was set in the middle of a flat plain.
William lived in a three-story apartment block, which was next door to a row of warehouses and opposite a sprawling trailer park.
May noted, as they drove down the road, that most of the warehouses looked to be empty. This town had most definitely suffered a mass exodus of inhabitants and commerce.
They parked outside the apartment block. The walls were peeling. May spotted a broken window on the first floor, and saw someone looking suspiciously out of another window. She knew that the police would not be trusted in this area, and most probably with good reason.
Weeds straggled out from the uneven pavement.
"It's sad to think that a place like this exists in our county," Owen said. "I wish we could clean it up and get people back here. At any rate, I guess that's a thought for another day. William's mother lives on the second floor."
May hoped that Arlette would be at home, and even more importantly, that William would either be there, or she would know his whereabouts. This was an urgent mission. They needed to stop these killings, these slaughters as May thought of them. And fast.
They walked inside, where May breathed in the smell of rotting food, with an undertone of urine. This really was a bad area, no doubt about it. It was a place that could breed crime, and it looked as if it had.
In fact, from the looks of things, it was churning out crime, by the bucketload.
The elevator was so old that it didn't even have a door, just a gate that you pulled shut. When May stepped inside, she felt a shudder run through her body. The elevator creaked in protest and she could see that some of the wiring was loose.