Although my phone conversation with Mac was short, the concern in his voice added to the already high level of anxiety I was experiencing.  His insistence I stay in the car until Snohomish County Police got there didn't sit well with me.  Fortunately, in less than ten-minutes, more than twelve Snohomish County police officers were cordoning off the area around the cabin with yellow tape. 
 
A short, stumpy man dressed in blue jeans, a brown corduroy jacket, and a faded green flannel shirt, identified himself as Detective Reilly, the lead investigator.  He was nothing at all like Mac.  His breath smelled of garlic and his pock marked cherry red, bulbous nose screamed alcoholic in capital letters.  The giant mole in the middle of his forehead was distracting and made it difficult to envision a brain inside his oversized head.  After introducing himself, Detective Reilly abruptly walked away but not before telling me in an unusually loud voice, "Stay put, kid."
 
The forensics experts arrived a few minutes later.  Not knowing what they would or would not find, I was quite content to stay on this side of the fence and let them do their job undisturbed.  Apparently, Detective Reilly had other plans.  Standing in front of the car, he signaled with a jerk of his hand that he wanted me to follow him.  Before getting out of the car, I took a deep breath in the hope of calming down before finding out what Barney Fife wanted.
 
It was only 4:30 in the afternoon, but it was already starting to get cold. I leaned over the seat and grabbed my jacket before getting out of the car.  Detective Reilly did not waste any time getting to the point. "Why didn't King County Police contact us about the cabin when they arrested your dad?"  He grinned and then added, "I bet someone's head is going on the chopping block for this."

His tone of voice and cocky know-it-all attitude did nothing to instill me with confidence in his ability as an investigator.  I did not try to hide my irritation.  "I bet if your check your inbox, you’ll find a message from Detective MacKinnon informing you of his intent to obtain a search warrant for this property."

Having to get in the last word, Detective Reilly smiled and said in an inappropriately sarcastic tone, "Doubt that's how my boss will see it."

I could see the wheels turning inside his head.  The turf war had already begun.  I hated to admit it, but he was right.  I also knew it would not be long before the press found out about the cabin and the feeding frenzy would begin all again.
 
Although not allowed inside the cabin, Detective Reilly asked me to take him to where I found the first bone.  I then pointed to where I found the skull. After instructing me not to talk to the media, I was finally allowed to leave. During the ride home, I took advantage of the silence and tried to figure out what to do, talk to Mom and Aunt Em about Dad's parents, or wait and talk to Mac first.  When I pulled into the hotel garage, I still had no idea what I was going to do.

 
* * * *

 
Not expecting me back for two days, Mom and Aunt Em were surprised to see me.  The giggling, happy Mom I had seen the night before was gone, and in her place was a tired, emotionally beaten woman.  I doubted she knew what happened at the cabin, and could only assume her meeting with Susan had gone badly.  I knew I should ask, but I didn't feel I could take more than one crisis at a time.  I felt guilty, but for now, Susan would have to wait.
 
We all sat staring at each other for several minutes.  Over the years, I learned that turning her head slightly to avoid eye contact, biting her bottom lip, or feigning a smile meant Mom was at the breaking point.  When I saw her right eyelid began to flutter, I feared telling her about what I found at the cabin was a dreadful idea.  However, I knew learning about it on the eleven o'clock news would be worse.  I glanced at Aunt Em before blurting out the distressing news.  "It appears that someone has been at the cabin.  A bone and skull have been found."

Mom's expression turned from concern to fear.  I immediately tried to reassure her. "Don't get ahead of yourself.  We don't know anything yet, just that someone put up a no trespass sign and a gate to keep people out."

Neither Mom nor Aunt Em took their eyes off me.

"I called Mac and he contacted Snohomish County Police.  Until they finish looking for whatever they are looking for, we have no choice but to wait.”


Mom reached over and took Aunt Em's hand.  "Do you think that's where John took those poor girls?"

Aunt Em remained silent.

"Mom, for now it is just a couple of bones, a gate and a sign. That's all."

My nonchalant attempt to downplay the potential seriousness of the situation failed.  Even I had a sick feeling about what else the police might find.  No one said anything.  The silence was painful, giving our imaginations far too much freedom to fill in the empty spaces and unanswered questions with ugly images of what we all feared.

After giving Aunt Em a let's talk look, I got up and walked over to the sink. In a voice barely above a whisper, I said, "I think it is best I talk to Mac about Dad’s father.  It is obvious you and Mom are hiding something.  Maybe you can give me some answers before I talk to him."

Aunt Em’s face turned pale.  She began to shake as she walked away.  I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Mac's number.  Although it was after nine, I was surprised he answered after the first ring.  "Hi, James, I've been waiting for your call."

 
 
* * * * * * * * *

 
Although it was almost ten, Betty was still working.  Nodding toward Betty, I asked Mac, “Does she live here?”
Clearly not in the mood for idle chitchat, Mac snapped, “How the hell should I know?”
“Damn it Mac.  Lighten up.”
I decided to change the subject.  “What are you not telling me about Dad?”

Mac set his cup down on the table and leaned back in his chair. I wasn't particularly skilled at reading people, and not knowing what he was thinking only added to my already high level of anxiety. He leaned forward and still staring at me, grinned. "Shouldn’t the question be, why the hell did you go there knowing we were planning to get a search warrant?"

“C'mon Mac.  You would never have let me go if I told you what I was going to do.”

“Damn right!  You messed with potential evidence.”

Angry, I snapped back.  “No, I found evidence and because of what I found I bet the warrants have all been signed and delivered.  As far as I’m concerned, you owe me a thank you.”

I wasn't in the mood for an interrogation but knew he wasn't going to let up. "As far as the cabin goes, I doubt Barney Fife could find his way out of a room with three walls and two open doors. Right now, I just want to know what you know about Dad."

Mac laughed. "Don't underestimate Detective Reilly. Arlington may be a small town, but Reilly's a darn good homicide detective. If there is anything to be found, he'll find it."

That was the second time Mac avoided answering my question.

The sound of the door opening momentarily distracted me. Several obviously cold, wet, and disheveled people came into the restaurant, each stomping their feet. I glanced out the window as thick pellets of rain slammed against the glass, blurring the yellow headlights of cars passing by.

Thoughts bottled up in the darkest recesses of my brain fought frantically for their rightful place at the top of my growing list of questions. Although the cabin remained somewhere in the middle, it was clear Mac had his own agenda, and if I wanted his help, I'd have to play by his rules. For now, he was the one controlling the direction the conversation was taking. I silently acquiesced, telling myself, "Let the game begin."

The sound of Mac snapping his fingers caught my attention. I pushed my thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand.

I smiled and said, "If I recall correctly, you're the one who told me you couldn't discuss an ongoing investigation."

Mac grinned again. "Under the current circumstances, I think we have progressed beyond casual conversation. Besides, you look like someone carrying a heavy load. I thought a little give and take might just be the incentive you need to loosen up."

It was my turn to grin. "Okay. You go first; what did they find at the cabin?"

Mac sat back and, appearing to weigh his words carefully, spoke in a deliberate and monotone voice. "Although it is still too early in the investigation to determine precisely what took place, there is evidence a violent altercation occurred inside the cabin. Despite an apparent attempt to clean up, the perpetrator was sloppy, leaving significant blood spatter on the walls and ceiling. This tells me that he is either very confident, planned to come back at a later time to finish cleaning up or, he is just downright stupid."

"Dad's not stupid."

"James, of course, your dad is a suspect, but we can only go on the evidence. We have to keep all options open."

Not in the mood to play word games, I rolled my eyes and in a voice not intended to please, said. "You and I both know who we are talking about, and we both know he is not stupid, arrogant, yes, but not stupid. What else did they find?"

"Aside from a bone and skull, what makes you think they found anything else?"

"C'mon, Mac. Just answer the question,"

The expression on his face turned serious. "They found partially burned clothing in the fireplace belonging to a female. A plastic bag containing a ring, silver chain, and a St. Christopher medal was found under a floorboard in the kitchen." He paused, and then added, "I won't be surprised if your father's prints are identified as those on the plastic bag."

He took a sip of coffee before continuing. "James, this is all circumstantial, and without identifying the body it is going to be difficult to make a case against your dad."

That sick feeling I had earlier was back. It was strange how things that once meant nothing suddenly took on importance when looked at from a different view. Call it gut instinct, bad vibes, or just basic common sense, but I already suspected I knew who the victim might be. My heart began to race, and that damn knot in my stomach felt like someone had poured gasoline on it and set it on fire. "You might want to look into an old missing person case."

I had Mac's full attention. "Five years ago, a neighborhood girl, Alicia Campbell, disappeared. After a less than stellar investigation, she was declared a runaway."

"What makes you think her disappearance has anything to do with this case?"

"She often babysat for Charlie and Susan.  She disappeared the night Dad drove her home.  When the police canvassed the neighborhood, Dad went out of his way to avoid them for three days until they finally caught up to him at work. I thought his behavior was strange, but after he claimed to drop her off at her house and never seeing her again, he was no longer a suspect and they moved on."

Realizing what I just said, I abruptly stopped talking.  A wave of sadness settled over me.  Mac was practically a stranger, and the circumstances under which we met were bizarre, to say the least.  I felt more comfortable talking to him than I ever did with Dad. I didn't understand why I felt so at ease with the tough cop sitting across from me. I quickly pushed the strange and unfamiliar emotions swelling up inside me aside. I had more important things to think about.

"Like I already said, call it whatever you want, gut instinct or bad vibes, but you need to take a closer look at Alicia's case file. She also fits the profile of all Dad's victims: seventeen, good student, pretty, and long brown hair."

That sick feeling was getting worse.  For all I knew, the evidence they found pointed to more than one victim.  Dad already had twelve murders to his credit.  It wouldn't surprise me if there were a dozen more.

Again, Mac snapped his fingers bringing me back to the moment.

"I'll certainly check her out."

"C'mon, I'm not stupid. You and I know Arlington has some of the best cadaver dogs in the state, and getting use of ground penetrating radar is just a phone call away."

Mac burst into laughter. I didn't see the humor.

"James, have you considered going into law enforcement? Got any other helpful suggestions on how to proceed with this investigation?"

"Yes, in fact I do. The first thing you need to do is determine if you can obtain DNA from the blood spatter and bone fragments and then compare it to Alicia. I am sure if you can't find a toothbrush, or hair follicle her mother would be more than willing to allow you to do a mitochondrial DNA for comparison. Maybe I'm wrong, and it isn't Alicia, but my gut tells me it is."

"Well, who am I to ignore your gut?"

Again, I wasn't amused.

Mac's nonchalant attitude told me that he was way ahead of me. I hated to admit it, but he was the pro. I was just an annoying kid.

Mac tapped his fingers on the table. "Now let’s move on.  It’s my turn. Why do you want to know about your dad's life in Arlington? What are you not telling me?”

I didn’t feel at all comfortable telling Mac what Uncle Terry told me.  However, if I was going to get to the bottom of this mess, I didn’t have a choice. 

“Apparently, Uncle Terry believes Mom and Aunt Em know something about Dad’s family but they refuse to talk about it.  That’s all I know.”

Mac leaned back and said nothing.  He took another sip of his coffee and after a few seconds of silence, spoke.  “James, this is no time for secrets.  You have to talk to your mother and find out what she’s hiding.  If you can’t get her to talk, I’ll have no choice but to bring her in for questioning.”

“First, you get mad because I get involved in the case and now you want me to interrogate Mom.  You can’t have it both ways.”

Mac covered his face with his hands.  “James, you are the most annoying kid I have ever met.  Let’s make a deal.  No more secrets.  Okay?”

I grinned.  “Just remember the deal works both ways.”

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Mr. Hurley's comment, "There are some things your father told me I am not permitted to repeat", flashed like a red neon sign inside my head demanding my full attention. Mac's continued silence bordered on rude causing me to wonder what, if anything, he knew.
 
Not ready to implicate Mom or Aunt Em in something that I knew in my heart would lead me down a path of no return, I decided to broach the subject from a different angle.
 
"Other than vague references about an abusive father, a mother that died when he was a baby, and a sister no one talks about, Dad's life before he married Mom is a well kept secret."
 
Mac acknowledged my comment with a blank expression.  He casually caught Betty's attention with a wave of his hand, signaling he wanted more coffee. Unable to contain my frustration a moment longer, I abruptly slammed my fist onto the table.  Despite getting the attention of everyone in the room, Mac didn't flinch.  He leaned back in his chair and shook his head.  "James, some things are best left alone."
 
Without hesitating, I snapped, "I'll be the judge of that!"
 
"James, let it go. We've got him.  He's never getting out of prison. Connecting him to a murder in Snohomish County could blow his plea bargain out of the water. Don't you think it's time for you to move on?"
 
Mac released a long, thoughtful breath.  "James, this is still an ongoing investigation.  I shouldn't even be talking to you."
 
I wasn't interested in hearing Mac's speech on politically correct police procedures.  My frustration was quickly turning into anger.  "You just don't get it do you?  Dad didn't wake up one day and say, 'Gee, I think I'll go out and kill someone'.  I need to know what made him into the monster he is.  I don't need you, Mr. Hurley, Mom, or Aunt Em protecting me from the truth."
 
I didn't give Mack a chance to respond.  "The choice is yours.  But, one way or another, with or without you, I am going to get the answers."
 
To my surprise, Mac smiled.  "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, James."
 
* * * * *  
 
Casual conversation was not my forte.  Years of experience gave Mac his own special way of getting people to relax and open up to him.  It was suddenly very clear that tonight he was the teacher and I was the student.
 
Always the consummate professional, Mac spoke in a noticeably precise tone, choosing each word carefully.  "Tell me exactly what you know about your dad's childhood.  Don't leave anything out."
 
"That's the problem, I don't know anything."
 
Mac repeated the question.
 
"What little I know is mostly hearsay; conversations I've overheard between Mom and Dad, stuff like that."
 
"Fine, tell me what you think you know."
 
"Grandma and Grandpa owned a small farm in rural Bellingham where Dad and his older sister grew up.  Apparently Grandpa kept to himself, ruled the family with a heavy hand, and a big stick.  Grandma died when Dad was still very young and his sister raised him.  I guess Dad was a pretty good student and earned a scholarship to Washington State University where he met Mom. They got married, moved to Seattle, and from what I know, he never went back to Bellingham, not even when his dad died.  I know nothing about my Aunt.  I don't even know her name."
 
 
"Didn't you find it odd that your dad never talked about his family?  Weren't you curious?"
 
I tried not to laugh.  "It's one of those you had to be there to understand situations.  When you grow up in a family with a father that makes all the rules and controls the amount of air you breathe, you'd be surprised how you accept the odd as normal.  Of course I was curious but curiosity was something we learned at a very young age to keep in check."
 
Realizing again that my entire life was based on a lie, I paused to catch my breath.  I suddenly felt tears well up in my eyes thinking about Mom.  Knowing she was the product of more than twenty-years of meticulous brain washing caused me to wonder if I would ever know the person she was before Dad got hold of her.
 
I wiped the tears from my face, took a sip of cold coffee, and then said, "Okay, Mac, now it's your turn. Tell me what YOU know."

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye.

Chapter 23
Be Careful What You Ask For

By Sasha

Looking as though I had just asked him the location of the original Ark of the Covenant, Mac sighed, placed his left elbow on the table, and rested his head against the palm of his hand.  His response was not what I expected. 
 
"James, what I am about to tell you stays between us.  I'm putting my career in jeopardy just talking to you.  Do you understand what I'm saying?"
 
Leave it to Mac to hand me a large plate of piping hot pressure peppered with enough guilt to give someone with a cast-iron stomach a permanent case of heartburn.  I did the only thing I could do, I nodded and then, despite my desperate need to hear what he had to say about Dad, I followed my newfound curiosity and asked, "If you are so worried about your career, why are you talking to me?"
 
Mac smiled and shrugged.  "I like you."
 
I laughed. "I like you too."
 
"James, I've been a homicide detective for more than fifteen-years and I've seen more death than you could imagine. I've worked cases where the victim was a twelve-year-old killed for his shoes, a drug deal gone bad, having an affair with the mailman, or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But, no matter how difficult it is to deal with death, dealing with the living, the survivors, the family of the victim is the hardest."
 
This was a side of Mac I had never seen before.  The big, tough, burly cop was pouring his heart out to me. I felt like I was treading on sacred ground meant only to be shared with him and God; a God I had yet to decide even existed. Not knowing where he was headed, and even less sure if I wanted him to continue, I remained silent, keeping my thoughts to myself.
 
"I was assigned to the Belltown Murder case before we knew it was the work of a serial killer.  As time passed and the number of victims grew, I honestly feared we would never catch him.  Then, you walked into the station. A tall, gangly, freckle-faced nerd, with the social skills of a wart hog, an IQ that made everyone in the room feel like a kindergarten dropout, and handed us your father on a silver platter."
 
Mac paused to regain his composure.  "The most amazing thing about you is your undeniable innocence. Your motivation was not anger, revenge, hatred, or even simple curiosity.  You came to us because it was the right thing to do. You gave me back something I lost a long time ago, faith in the goodness of mankind."
 
Not knowing what to say, I reverted to my only familiar emotion, sarcasm. "Okay, now that you've established I qualify for sainthood, could we move on to what you know about Dad?"
 
Mac burst into laughter and I followed like a puppy trailing its master. When the laughter finally stopped, we sat staring at each other, as though waiting for the other to speak first.  I had nothing more to say.
 
Mac leaned back in his chair, chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip for a moment, and then released a second long, thoughtful breath.
 
"The day you walked into the police station, we began compiling information on your father, starting with his birth up until the day we arrested him. Although we don't have all the answers yet, we have learned he was not who he claimed to be."
 
So far, Mac wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know.  Anyone with as many secrets as Dad had, clearly had a lot to hide.
 
"First of all, he was not born or raised in Bellingham.  Your grandfather didn't have a small farm, just a rundown, two-bedroom shack on an acre of land outside of Blaine, a few miles from the Canadian border. Your grandfather was a mean drunk, had no friends, but plenty of enemies.  He apparently ruled over the family with an iron hand and had a reputation for physical violence. No one remembers much about your grandmother other than to say she died the year your dad was born."
 
 
Mac paused to take a sip of coffee.  "We have not been able to find a death certificate or place of burial for your grandmother and are not ruling out the possibility of foul play as cause of death.  But without much more than some ninety-year old geezer saying he vaguely recalled hearing she died, we really don't have much to go on."
 
Hearing Mac talk about people I didn't know seemed surreal.   I wasn't sure how to feel.  I found it hard to picture Dad, the well-educated, handsome, neighborhood hero living in a place that belonged in the movie Deliverance.  I fought the urge to laugh, remembering Mac was talking about a guy guilty of killing twelve young girls.  It was obvious the 'why' I was looking for was to be found somewhere in those missing years he spent in Blaine.
 
"We have run into a brick wall trying to find any information about your Aunt. Other than a birth certificate telling us her name was Mary Louise and that she was thirteen years older than your dad, it is as though she never existed.  We have not been able to find any school records, marriage certificate, no death certificate, nothing."
 
My head was spinning.  What the hell was I supposed to do with this jumbled pile of unanswered questions?  "Damn it Mac, what do you know?"
 
"Sorry kid, we are still trying to put all the pieces together.  For what it's worth, we've been going over the house and property with ground penetrating radar and those well-trained cadaver dogs you recommended, but so far we've come up with nothing."

My gut told me Mac was holding back, but I decided it best, for the moment, not to push him. 
 
In a voice trying to sound humorous, Mac said, "Got any brilliant ideas?"
 
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.  I think it is time I had a serious talk with Mom."

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye.

Chapter 23
More Questions

By Sasha

Mac released a long, loud breath.  "James, this is still an ongoing investigation.  I shouldn't even be talking to you."
 
I wasn't interested in hearing Mac's speech on politically correct police procedures.  My frustration was quickly turning into anger.  "You just don't get it do you?  Dad didn't wake up one day and say, Gee, I think I'll go out and kill someone.  I need to know what made him into the monster he is.  I don't need you, Mr. Hurley, Mom, or Aunt Em protecting me from the truth."
 
I didn't give Mac a chance to respond.  "The choice is yours.  But, one way or another, with or without you, I am going to get the answers."
 
To my surprise, Mac smiled.  "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, James."
 

* * * * *  

 
Casual conversation was not my forte.  Years of experience have given Mac his own unique way of getting people to relax and open up to him.  It was suddenly very clear that tonight he was the teacher, and I was the student.
 
Always the consummate professional, Mac spoke in a noticeably precise tone, choosing each word carefully.  "Tell me exactly what you know about your dad's childhood. Don't leave anything out."
 
"You can keep asking me the same question, but I’ve already told you everything I know.”

Mac repeated the question.

Knowing he wasn’t going to quit until I said something, I told him what I knew.
 
"What little I know is mostly hearsay; conversations I've overheard between Mom and Dad, stuff like that."
 
"Fine, tell me what you think you know."
 
"Dad’s parents owned a small farm in Arlington where he and his older sister grew up. Apparently his dad kept to himself, ruled the family with a heavy hand, and a big stick. His mother died when Dad was still very young, and his sister raised him.  I guess Dad was a pretty good student and earned a scholarship to Washington State University where he met Mom. They got married, moved to Seattle, and from what I know, he never went back to Arlington until after his dad died. I know nothing about my aunt.  I don't even know her name."
 
 
"Didn't you find it odd that your father never talked about his family?  Weren't you curious?"
 
I tried not to laugh.  "It's one of those you had to be there to understand situations.  When you grow up in a family with a father that makes all the rules and controls the amount of air you breathe, you'd be surprised how you accept the odd as normal.  Of course I was curious, but curiosity was something we learned at an extremely young age to keep in check."
 
I suddenly remembered something I hadn’t thought about in years.  “Mac, I don’t know if it’s important or not, but when Dad got drunk, he occasionally blurted things out in a foreign language.  It sounded like Eastern European.  I once asked Mom about it, but she refused to tell me why he did that.”
Realizing again that my entire life was based on a lie, I paused to catch my breath.  I suddenly felt tears well up in my eyes thinking about Mom.  Knowing she was the product of more than twenty-years of meticulous brain washing caused me to wonder if I would ever know the person she was before Dad got hold of her.
 
I wiped the tears from my face, took a sip of cold coffee, and then said, "Okay, Mac, now it's your turn. Tell me what YOU know."

Looking as though I had just asked him the location of the original Ark of the Covenant, Mac sighed, placed his left elbow on the table, and rested his chin against the palm of his hand.  His response was not what I expected. 
 
"James, what I am about to tell you stays between us.  I'm putting my career in jeopardy just talking to you.  Do you understand what I'm saying?"
 
Leave it to Mac to hand me a large plate of piping hot pressure peppered with enough guilt to give someone with a cast-iron stomach a permanent case of heartburn.  I did the only thing I could do, I nodded and then, despite my desperate need to hear what he had to say about Dad, I followed my newfound curiosity and asked, "If you are so worried about your career, why are you talking to me?"
 
Mac smiled and shrugged.  "I like you."
 
I laughed. "That is so sweet.  I like you too."
 
"James, I've been a homicide detective for more than fifteen-years, and I've seen more death than you could imagine. I've worked cases where the victim was a twelve-year-old killed for his shoes, a drug deal gone badly, a wife having an affair with the mailman, or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But, no matter how difficult it is to deal with death, dealing with the living, the survivors, the family of the victim is the hardest."
 
This was a side of Mac I had never seen before.  The big, tough, burly cop was pouring his heart out to me. I felt like I was treading on sacred ground meant only to be shared with him and God; a God I had yet to decide even existed. Not knowing where he was headed, and even less sure if I wanted him to continue, I remained silent, keeping my thoughts to myself.
 
"I was assigned to the Belltown Murder case before we knew it was the work of a serial killer.  As time passed and the number of victims grew, I honestly feared we would never catch him.  Then, you walked into the station. A tall, gangly, red haired freckle-faced nerd, with the social skills of a warthog, an IQ that made everyone in the room feel like a kindergarten dropout and handed us the killer on a silver platter."
 
Mac paused to regain his composure.  "The most amazing thing about you is your undeniable innocence. Your motivation was not anger, revenge, hatred, or even simple curiosity.  You came to us because it was the right thing to do. You gave me back something I lost a long time ago, faith in the goodness of mankind."
 
Not knowing what to say, I reverted to my only familiar emotion, sarcasm. "Okay, now that you've established I qualify for sainthood, could we move on to what you know about Dad?"
 
Mac burst into laughter and I followed like a puppy trailing its master. When the laughter finally stopped, we sat staring at each other, as though waiting for the other to speak first.  I had nothing more to say.
 
Mac leaned back in his chair, chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip for a moment, and then released a second long even louder breath.
 
"The day you walked into the police station, we began compiling information on your father, starting with his birth up until the day we arrested him. Although we don't have all the answers yet, we have learned he was not who he claimed to be."
 
So far, Mac wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know.  Anyone with as many secrets as Dad had, clearly had a lot to hide.
 
"First of all, there is very little information on your grandfather’s life in Bellingham.  At some point, the family moved to Arlington.  Your dad doesn’t even have a birth certificate.  He was registered in school under the name Alexandru Popescu. Your grandfather’s name is Adian Popescu.  Your grandmother’s name is Alfina.  Each are of Romanian origin.  Popescu is a common Romanian last name.  We have been unsuccessful in learning your aunt’s name. It’s as though she never existed.


 
Your grandfather didn't have a small farm, just a rundown, two-room shack on six acres of land outside of Arlington. Your grandfather was a mean drunk, had no friends, but plenty of enemies. He apparently ruled over the family with an iron hand and had a reputation for physical violence. No one remembers much about your grandmother other than to say she died the year your dad was born."
 
 
Mac paused to take another sip of coffee.  "We have not been able to find a death certificate or place of burial for your grandmother and are not ruling out the possibility of foul play as the cause of death.  Without much more than some ninety-year old geezer, wearing bifocals, and in desperate need of a hearing aid saying he vaguely recalled hearing she died, we don't have much to go on."
 
Hearing Mac talk about people I didn't know seemed surreal.   I wasn't sure how to feel.  I found it hard to picture Dad, the well-educated, handsome, neighborhood hero living in a place that belonged in the movie Deliverance.  I fought the urge to laugh, remembering Mac was talking about a person guilty of killing twelve—possibly thirteen—young girls.  It was obvious the why I was looking for was to be found somewhere in those missing years he spent in Arlington.
 
"We have run into a brick wall trying to find any information about your aunt. We spoke with a few neighbors that vaguely recall meeting her.  However, we have not been able to find a birth certificate, any school records, marriage certificate, no death certificate, nothing."
 
My head was spinning.  What the hell was I supposed to do with this jumbled pile of unanswered questions? "Damn it Mac, what DO you know?"
 
"Sorry kid, we are still trying to put all the pieces together.  For what it's worth, we've been going over the shack and property, but so far we've come up with nothing."

My gut told me Mac was holding back, but I decided it best, for the moment, not to push him. 
 
In a voice trying to sound upbeat, Mac said, "Got any brilliant ideas, my little genius?"
 
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.  I think it is time I had a serious talk with Mom and Aunt Em."

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 24
The Journal

By Sasha

I waved goodbye to Mac, and headed back toward what I hoped was the right direction. After walking several blocks, I could see the two, tall towers of the Sheraton off in the distance. The closer I got to the hotel, the more nervous I became. Although I was still angry with Mac for asking me to interrogate Mom, I hated to admit it, but I knew he was right. He took a big chance talking to me.  I didn't know how much trouble he could get into talking to me about the case, but I knew he wouldn't have done it if he didn't think it was his only option.  Mom and Aunt Em had to talk to me and tell me everything they knew.
 
 
I swiped the key card and the door to the room opened. I took a deep breath and walked inside. Mom, Charlie, Aunt Em, and Uncle Terry were all sitting at the table. As soon as Mom saw me, she stood up and began to yell at me. "Where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick."
 

I ignored Mom's question. I looked at Charlie and Uncle Terry, and politely asked them to leave. They looked over at Mom and then back at me. Confused, Mom said, "James, what's wrong with you?"
 
 
I looked at Charlie and Uncle Terry, and again told them to leave.
 
 
Angry, Mom yelled at me. "James…!"
 
 
I slammed my fist down on the table and in a voice loud enough for the people in the next room to hear, I yelled, "Get the hell out of here now! I need to talk to Mom and Aunt Em alone!"
 
 
Shocked, Mom and Aunt Em sat down. Charlie and Uncle Terry got up and left the room without saying a word. 
 
 
The look of shock and confusion on Mom's face filled me with guilt.  The anger, sympathy, and fear I also felt, surfaced in the form of sarcasm. 
 "Mac and I had just had a very interesting conversation."

I didn't know who was shaking more, Mom, Aunt Em, or me. Mom sat silently staring at me with her large brown eyes. I had seen her sad, upset, nervous, even angry. However, this was the first time I had ever seen Mom scared. I wanted to give her a hug and tell her everything would be fine, but I couldn't. There was too much at stake. I was still furious with Mac for putting me in this position, but I was angry with Mom for not telling me what she knew. At that moment, I realized I was angry with everyone and everything in the whole world. I just wanted to close my eyes for a few seconds so I could open them and find out this was all just a terrible dream. However, I tried that once before, and it didn't work then either.
I sat across from Mom and Aunt Em, who were holding hands. After a few moments of silence, I took a deep breath. "I'm going to ask you some questions, but this time you are going to tell the truth; the whole truth."

The loud pounding of my heart was the only sound that broke the painful silence in the room. Mom sat nervously staring down at the floor. She and Aunt Em tried to hide their shaking hands and knees by pulling their skirts down over her legs. It didn't work. Apparently stunned by my outburst, Mom didn't seem to notice my legs were also shaking. The only comfort I found came from knowing I, not Mac or the Snohomish County police, was the first person to talk to Mom. Those conversations were inevitable, but Mom needed to tell the truth before she dug herself into a bigger hole with more lies. 


I felt that familiar knot in my stomach twist, sending a burning pain up into my esophagus. I had no doubt the pain I was feeling was the first sign of either a serious case of acid reflux or my ulcer had come back. I chuckled silently. No one wants an ulcer, but if anyone had earned one, it certainly was me. 
 
Although only a few seconds had passed since Charlie and Uncle Terry left the room, hundreds of thoughts had already raced through my mind. Susan had made so much progress, but I feared learning Mom was somehow involved would set her back, or worse, cause a full relapse. Then there was Charlie; sweet, innocent Charlie who worshiped Mom. What would learning the truth, whatever it was, do to him? 
 
 
Mom looked so pale and frightened. Why was this happening to us?  If only I had ignored my stupid curiosity. Why didn't I leave well enough alone? Why did I go to the cabin and dig in the garden? Why do I always have to know the answer to questions best left alone? My thoughts suddenly shifted to Alicia.

I recalled the last time I saw her.  She had long brown hair, green eyes and was wearing a red sweatshirt, baggy jeans and a pair of beige hushpuppy shoes. She was happy, carefree and eager to go home.  Dad walked her out the door and to the car.  That was that last time anyone saw her.
 
Choosing my words carefully, I leaned over and took Mom’s hand.  “Tell me what you know about Alicia.”

Mom looked confused.  “Why in the world do you want to know about her?  What does she have to do with your dad?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. The police are looking into her disappearance.  They don’t believe she was a runaway and neither do I.”

“James, that’s crazy.  Your dad wouldn’t hurt her. She was a sweet girl.”
 
“For God’s sake, Mom, they were all sweet girls.”
Mom buried her face into her hands and began to cry.
 
Aunt Em glared at me.  “What are you trying to prove, James?  What is the point of all this?”
 
“You and Mom know something about Dad and the time for secrets is over. Uncle Terry is tired of your secrets too.  It is time to come clean and tell me everything you know.”
 
Mom had regained her composure, and after wiping the tears from her face, she took Aunt Em’s hand and simply nodded.  “What do you want to know?”
 
“What do you know about Dad’s family?”
 
“We met in College.  I thought he was handsome, charming, and I was flattered he liked me.”
 
Aunt Em shook her head.  “I didn’t like him from the start.  I found him pompous, arrogant, and there was something phony about him.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I just didn’t like him.”

Both Mom and Em stopped talking.  Then, Mom took a deep breath and began to speak.  “Your Dad has always been a controlling person.  Everything has to be done his way.  I never dared complain because we always ended up fighting and you know who always won the fight.”
 
"The criticisms began as subtle, helpful suggestions.  Little things like, I looked prettier with less makeup, younger with short hair, or dresses accented my feminine beauty.  Before I knew it, he was telling me how to walk, what to say, and how to say it." 

The expression on Mom's face changed from pride to one of shame. Her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly as tears streamed down her cheeks. "John never loved me; he loved the woman he created."
 
Unable to remain silent any longer, I asked as gently as I could, hoping I didn't sound judgmental, "Why did you stay with him?  Why didn't you leave?"
 
For the first time Mom looked at me.  She smiled weakly and ignoring the tears still streaming down her cheeks, said, "Silly boy, you've never been in love, have you?"
 
I wanted to ask her if she still loved him, but decided to leave that question for another time.
 
With a little prompting, Mom slowly revealed the deep emotional scars caused from years of psychological cruelty at the hands of a tyrant.  Dad methodically stripped her of what little self-esteem she had by convincing her she was ugly, stupid, worthless, and without him to guide her she would fade into oblivion, destined to be a forgotten nobody.  Despite listening to Mom say the words out loud, I could tell she still believed him. It would take a lot more than a hug from me to convince her he was wrong.  I feared the damage he had done was beyond fixing.
 
Mom continued to fade in and out of consciousness, sometimes talking to me but most of the time over me. When I asked her a question, I felt as though I was talking into an empty hole; not even a faint echo came back. Frustrated and feeling as though I was running out of time, I reached over and with both hands, gently turned Mom's face toward me. "Please, Mom, tell me about Dad's childhood. It's important."
 
Mom just looked at me with her familiar dazed expression and empty eyes.  Unable to hide my frustration, I raised my voice and mimicking Dad's demanding tone, said, "Damn it, I asked you a question.  Answer it?"
 
Mom snapped to attention like an obedient soldier.  She blinked several times, sat up straight, and began to speak.
 
"John only talked about his parents when he was drunk.  His hatred of his father was so consuming it frightened me.  Your grandfather was a sick, demented, cruel man who enjoyed tormenting his family. When John was only six-years-old, his Dad forced him to shoot the family dog, saying it would make a man out of him. John never knew his mother; she died when he was a baby.  He was raised by his older sister."
 
Mentioning Dad's mother obviously upset Mom.  She abruptly stopped talking and turned away, intentionally avoiding eye contact. Whatever she was thinking about, it appeared to be something she did not want me to know.
 
I took a deep breath and ignoring the fear I may be pushing too hard, said, "Mac told me no one recalls much about Grandma.  Other than general hearsay, there is no official record of her death or where she was buried."
 
I paused long enough for my comment to sink in before continuing. "What troubles me most, there is even less information on his sister. It is as though she never existed."
 
Mom began to shake violently.  I reached over and placed my hand on her shoulder in the hope of calming her down.  She abruptly shoved it away and stood up so quickly she knocked over the chair. In a voice drowning in a mixture of rage, fear, and desperation she screamed, "James, please let this go!  This is not something you need or want to know!"
 
Seeing Mom so terrified frightened me, but my need to know what she was hiding prevented me from backing down.  I shook my head, and said, "No, the time for secrets is over." 
 
My words struck like a knife in her chest.  Mom's knees buckled, and before I could catch her, she collapsed onto the floor.  I knelt down and put my arms around her.  "Please tell me what you know."
 
Mom buried her head into my lap and sobbed uncontrollably.  I cradled her in my arms, gently stroked her cheek, and let her cry until there were no more tears.  Still trembling, she looked up at me and nodded.
 
Barely able to speak above a whisper, Mom closed her eyes and said, "Your Aunt is your father's sister, but she's…she's…she's also…."
 
I wanted to scream but forced myself to speak softly.  I begged Mom to continue.
 
She took a deep breath and with her eyes still closed blurted out the terrible secret she had been hiding all these years.  "Your dad's sister is also his mother."
 
Mom's entire body went limp.  I slumped, nearly falling on top of her. I could hardly breathe.  At that instant, my brain exploded with a thousand questions all demanding answers.  Mom put her arms around me and in a voice riddled with guilt and shame begged me not to tell anyone.
 
For the first time I understood the meaning behind the words some things are best left alone.  However, I also knew that with so many people digging into Dad's past, it was only a matter of time before the world, including Charlie and Susan, would know his dark secret.  I felt sick to my stomach.
 
We held each other for a long time pretending to soothe the other's pain.  I had one question that couldn't wait.  "Mom, where is Dad's sister, mother, whoever she is? Why can't anyone find her?"

Mom didn't answer.

I paused a moment then asked Mom a second question.  "There is more isn't there?"
 
Aunt Em got up, opened the door and went down the hall.  She returned a few minutes later carrying a small book in her hands. She handed it to me then sat down beside Mom.
 
The book looked like an ordinary journal, something a child would buy at a drug store.  On the first page were the handwritten words.

Adian Popescu familia
Bata   Luminita
Bato  Lucian Propescu

I immediately recognized the language.  “This is written in Romanian.  We need to have it translated.”  I thumbed through the book.  Every page was full.
 
 
I looked at Aunt Em.  “Where did you get this?”
 
Mom answered.  “I found it under the passenger seat of your father’s car few days after he learned about his father’s death.  It also came with a handwritten note stating your father’s real name is Alexandru Popescu and means defender of humanity.  Your grandfather’s name is Adian, which means dark.  Your grandmother’s name is, Alfina, which means unknown.  All are of Romani origin.

It seems the more questions I ask the less I learned.  I needed to get the journal to Mac as soon as possible.  First, I had to find out what was in it.  I had no doubt he would want to know what was in it too. More important, why was it hidden in Dad’s car?

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His eidetic memory* has turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 24
A Talk With Mom

By Sasha

I slid the keycard through the slot and when I opened the door, I was surprised to see everyone sitting at the table waiting for me.  Mom immediately stood up and yelled, "Where the hell have you been? We've been worried sick."
 
I glanced at my watch; it was twelve-forty-five.  I was emotionally exhausted. Realizing my hope of getting a good night's sleep before confronting Mom was not going to happen only added to my already fragile mental state.
 
"Damn it, James, I asked you a question."
 
I ignored Mom. I looked at Charlie, Aunt Em, and Uncle Martin and politely, but firmly, asked them to leave.  Confused, they looked over at Mom then back at me.  Again, I asked them to leave.
 
Angry, Mom yelled at me again.  "James…."
 
In a voice loud enough to wake the people in the room next door, I interrupted, "Get the hell out of here now!  I need to talk to Mom alone."
 
Shocked, Mom sat down and every one else got up and left the room without saying a word.  I sat across from Mom and after a few seconds of silence said, "I'm going to ask you some questions and it is really important you tell me the truth, the whole truth."
 
Mom got up, walked over to the refrigerator, opened the door and took out two cans of beer.  Mom seldom drank.  She had the occasional glass of white wine but I had no memory of ever seeing her drink beer.  She didn't bother to get a glass but popped the metal tab, tipped her head back, and in four or five large, loud gulps, emptied the can.  She then opened the second can and holding it with both hands in a vise-like grip, casually said, "What do you want to know?"
 
My brain felt like the inside of a metal rock tumbler packed with a hundred questions, each slamming violently against the other turning my usually well organized thoughts into a jumbled pile of chaotic debris.  Where do I begin?  Dear God, where do I begin?  Unable to sort through the cluttered mess inside my head, I decided the best place to start was at the beginning.
 
"When you first met Dad, what did he tell you about his childhood?"
 
Mom shrugged and said, "It never came up."
 
Clearly, Mom was not going to make this easy for me.  "We can play this game all night, but neither of us is leaving this room until I get a straight answer from you."
 
Releasing her grip on the beer can, Mom rested her elbow on the table and rhythmically rubbed her lower lip with her index finger.  She was visibly shaken.
 
"Mom, please talk to me.  Tell me what you know."
 
In an unexpected shaky voice, Mom asked, "James, why are you pursuing this?  Why is this so important?"
 
"Isn't it obvious? I am tired of all the secrets.  Everything about Dad is a lie and I need to know the truth about him.  I know you know more than you admit.  Why are you protecting him?" 
 
"I'm not protecting him."
 
"Then why won't you tell me what you know?"
 
"James, some things are best left alone."
 
Mac had said the exact same thing to me a few hours earlier.   What the hell were they hiding?
 
"I don't know why or even how, but Dad turned you into a frightened well-trained robot. You have never finished a single thought without his critical, abrasive input.  Every sentence you've ever spoken has ended with the sound of his voice.  But Dad is gone.  He's not coming back.  For God's sake, Mom, it's over.  Do you honestly think telling me some things are best left alone is going to keep me from getting to the truth?"
 
Mom's eyes appeared empty.  The dazed expression on her face and noticeably dilated pupils told me the space she was staring at was not empty. Although only sitting inches away, she was clearly somewhere else. Concerned, I reached over and softly caressed her shoulder.
 
She leaned back in her chair.  Her eyes continued to focus on a single spot on the wall behind me. I didn't know what to do. Unaware of where she had gone or if she was coming back, I worried if my abrupt and demanding questions had pushed her too far. 

Still staring past me, she suddenly began to speak. However, her words were not directed at me. Wherever Mom was, I knew we were not in the same room.

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye. Yes, this is a short chapter but actually longer than it seems...756 words. Sometimes short is necessary.

Chapter 25
More Questions for Mom

By Sasha

Resting her elbow on the table, Mom rhythmically rubbed her lower lip with her index finger while staring off into space. The dazed expression on her face and noticeably dilated pupils told me the space she was staring at was not empty. Although only sitting inches away, Aunt Em and I were clearly not in the room with her. Concerned, I reached over and softly caressed her shoulder. She did not respond.
 
"Mom, please talk to me. Tell me what you are thinking." 

She remained silent. Her eyes continued to focus on a single spot on the wall behind me. I didn't know what to do. Unaware of where she had gone or if she was coming back, I worried if my abrupt and demanding questions had pushed her too far. 
 
Suddenly, Mom leaned back in her chair. Still staring past me, she began to speak. However, her words were not directed at me. Wherever Mom was, I knew it was not here with me. 
 

"Alicia had the most beautiful green eyes. She was very sweet, and I thought it was charming that her youth prevented her from seeing her own amazing beauty. I genuinely liked her." 

Mom paused to wipe the tears from her eyes. "I don't know why she ran away.  She came from a good family that loved her immensely much. Even after all these years, I still feel sad when I think about her." 
 
Mom wasn't making any sense.  Her strange behavior hinted she knew more than she was telling. Dad was the last person to see Alicia. As far as I was concerned, knowing what I found at the cabin proved Dad was a murderer and made it impossible not to suspect he had harmed her. It would be foolish not to consider him the number one suspect in her disappearance. 
 
"Mom, tell me what happened the night Dad drove Alicia home." 
 
Mom closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, she looked directly at me. "I'm sorry, James. Did you say something?" 
 
Fear gripped me by the throat. Was I pushing Mom too hard? However, my need to know the truth weighed heavily on my shoulders. I knew the police would be much harder on her. They had a case to solve. They had no time or interest in being gentle. Mom's mental state would take a backseat in their pursuit of the facts. Mom was in the middle of this and the only way I could help her was to find out what she knew before the police got their hands on her. 
 
"Mom, pay attention, this is important. You have to tell me about the night Alicia disappeared." 
 
Mom sat up and shook her head. "I don't remember anything other than your Dad drove her home and came right back, just as he said." 

"Are you sure he came right back?" 
 
Mom nodded. "Yes. I am sure he did." 
 
Her eyes moved back and forth as though searching for more memory of that night. 
 
"At least, I think he came right back. After he left, I was tired and went to bed." 
 
Again, Mom paused. "When he climbed into bed beside me, it seemed as though only a few minutes had passed. But, to be honest, I cannot be absolutely sure. It could have been an hour, or it could have been five hours. I honestly don't know." 
 
Mom began to tremble. Her expression changed from one of confusion to horror as the realization of that night became clearer. Afraid that at any moment she would slip back into denial. 

I was too late. The expression on Mom's face immediately told me she had no idea what I was talking about. It was as though the events of that night had never happened. Without saying a word, Mom got up and walked toward the bedroom. Concerned, I asked, "Where are you going?" 
 
Not bothering to turn around, Mom just said, "I'm tired. I think I'll take a short nap. Your father will be home for dinner soon, and I want to be rested when he arrives." 
 
The bedroom door shut with a bang that reverberated like a gunshot off the walls before slamming into my chest. The rage I felt toward Dad at that moment was only surpassed by the anger I directed at my own stupidity. Mom was handling what happened to Alicia the only way she knew. Forcing her to remember what she convinced herself for so many years did not occur was dangerous. I still had questions, but I didn't dare press any harder. Watching Mom slip in and out of reality terrified me. 
 
My whole world was crumbling around me and I knew it was only going to get worse. Mac was a nice guy, but first and foremost, he was a cop. He and the Snohomish County Police still wanted to talk to Mom, and I wasn't about to let that happen; at least not before talking to Mr. Hurley. Although he was one of the best criminal attorneys in Seattle, I wasn't convinced even he could save Mom. 

I noticed tears streaming down my cheeks. My stomach was on fire. I fought back the urge to scream. Instead, I took a deep breath, reached for the phone, and dialed Mr. Hurley's number.

I entirely forgot about Aunt Em.  She sat silently staring at me.  “Who are you calling?”
 
“Mr. Hurley.  I think Mom needs an attorney.”
 
Aunt Em nodded.
 
I was still trying to comprehend what I had just learned.  Dad wasn’t who he claimed to be.  His father was an evil and cruel man, and his mother was also his sister. Not knowing if the skull found at the cabin belonged to Alicia only added to my anxiety.  All I could do was hope Mr. Hurley could make sense out of all of this and Mac could somehow speed up the forensics.  

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him. The painting is one I did of my father several years ago.

Chapter 25
Some Things Are Best Left Alone

By Sasha

"Did I ever tell you I never went to my high school senior prom?" 
 
Mom's voice trailed off into the awkward silence that filled the room.  My heart skipped a beat and the knot in my gut exploded into a raging inferno sending stomach acid up into my throat.  Have I pushed Mom over the edge?  Have I gone too far?  Overwhelmed with guilt and concern, I reached over and gently placed my hand on top of hers. I wasn't sure where this was leading, but I didn't dare interrupt.
 
"I had plenty of offers, but unlike Em, I was terribly shy and even more insecure."
 
Mom continued to stare past me.  I wasn't even sure she was talking to me. She casually pulled her hand from beneath mine and placed it on her lap.
 
"I met John in my second year at college.  For me it was love at first sight. He was so handsome and charming.  He could have had any girl he wanted but he chose me.  He showered me with affection and made me feel as though I was the luckiest woman on earth."
 
Mom suddenly began to tremble.  She pressed her hand against her leg in an attempt to stop it from shaking. It didn't work.  
 
"The criticisms began as subtle, helpful suggestions.  Little things like, I looked prettier with less makeup, younger with short hair, or dresses accented my feminine beauty.  Before I knew it, he was telling me how to walk, what to say, and how to say it." 

The expression on Mom's face changed from pride to one of shame. Her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly as tears streamed down her cheeks. "John never loved me; he loved the woman he created."
 
Unable to remain silent any longer,  I asked as gently as I could, hoping I didn't sound judgmental, "Why did you stay with him?  Why didn't you leave?"
 
For the first time Mom looked at me.  She smiled weakly and ignoring the tears still streaming down her cheeks, said, "Silly boy, you've never been in love, have you?"
 
I wanted to ask her if she still loved him, but decided to leave that question for another time.
 
With a little prompting, Mom slowly revealed her deep emotional scars caused from years of psychological cruelty at the hands of a tyrant.  Dad methodically stripped her of what little self-esteem she had by convincing her she was ugly, stupid, worthless, and without him to guide her she would fade into oblivion, destined to be a forgotten nobody.  Despite listening to Mom say the words out loud, I could tell she still believed him. It would take a lot more than a hug from me to convince her he was wrong.  I feared the damage he had done was beyond fixing.
 
Mom continued to fade in and out of consciousness, sometimes talking to me but most of the time over me.  When I asked her a question, I felt as though I was talking into an empty hole; not even a faint echo came back. Frustrated and feeling as though I was running out of time, I reached over and with both hands, gently turned Mom's face toward me. "Please, Mom, tell me about Dad's childhood. It's important."
 
Mom just looked at me with her familiar dazed expression and empty eyes.  Unable to hide my frustration, I raised my voice and mimicking Dad's demanding tone, said, "Damn it, I asked you a question.  Answer it?"
 
Mom snapped to attention like an obedient soldier.  She blinked several times, sat up straight, and began to speak.
 
"John only talked about his parents when he was drunk.  His hatred of his father was so consuming it frightened me.  Your grandfather was a sick, demented, cruel man who enjoyed tormenting his family. When John was only six-years-old, his Dad forced him to shoot the family dog, saying it would make a man out of him. John never knew his mother; she died when he was a baby."
 
Mentioning Dad's mother obviously upset Mom.  She abruptly stopped talking and turned away, intentionally avoiding eye contact. Whatever she was thinking about, it appeared to be something she did not want me to know.
 
I took a deep breath and ignoring the fear I may be pushing too hard, said, "Mac told me no one recalls much about Grandma.  Other than general hearsay, there is no official record of her death or where she was buried."
 
I paused long enough for my comment to sink in before continuing. "What troubles me most, there is even less information on his sister. It is as though she never existed."
 
Mom began to shake violently.  I reached over and placed my hand on her shoulder in the hope of calming her down.  She abruptly shoved it away and stood up so quickly she knocked over the chair.  In a voice drowning in a mixture of rage, fear, and desperation she screamed, "James, please let this go!  This is not something you need or want to know!"
 
Seeing Mom so terrified frightened me, but my need to know what she was hiding prevented me from backing down.  I shook my head, and said, "No, the time for secrets is over." 
 
My words struck like a knife in her chest.  Mom's knees buckled and before I could catch her, she collapsed onto the floor.  I knelt down and put my arms around her.  "Please tell me what you know."
 
Mom buried her head into my lap and sobbed uncontrollably.  I cradled her in my arms, gently stroked her cheek, and let her cry until there were no more tears.  Still trembling, she looked up at me and nodded.
 
Barely able to speak above a whisper, Mom closed her eyes and said, "Your Aunt is your father's sister, but she's…she's…she's also…."
 
I wanted to scream but forced myself to speak softly.  I begged Mom to continue.
 
She took a deep breath and with her eyes still closed blurted out the terrible secret she had been hiding all these years.  "Your dad's sister is also his mother."
 
Mom's entire body went limp.  I slumped, nearly falling on top of her. I could hardly breathe.  At that instant, my brain exploded with a thousand questions all demanding answers.  Mom put her arms around me and in a voice riddled with guilt and shame begged me not to tell anyone.
 
For the first time I understood the meaning behind the words 'some things are best left alone'.  But I also knew with so manypeople digging into Dad's past, it was only a matter of time before the world, including Charlie and Susan, would know his 's dark secret.  I felt sick to my stomach.
 
We held each other for a long time pretending to soothe the other's pain.  I had one question that couldn't wait.  "Mom, where is Dad's sister, mother, whoever she is?  Why can't anyone find her?"

Mom didn't answer.

I paused a moment then asked Mom a second question.  "There is more isn't there?"

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye.

Chapter 26
Mom's in the Hospital

By Sasha

Mr. Hurley immediately contacted Dr. Williams, a close friend and a top rate psychiatrist at Harborview Medical Center.  There were advantages to being one of the best criminal attorneys in town.  One being access to first class specialists.  Dr. Williams advised Mom not be admitted to University Hospital. Putting her and Susan together was not wise.
 
Aunt Em, Uncle Terry and Charlie sat in the waiting room while Mr. Hurley and I spoke privately.  Filled with guilt, I poured my heart out to him.  “I pushed her too hard. It’s all my fault.”

“No, Charlie, your mother has been on the verge of a break down for a long time.  Living under your father’s heavy thumb has to have caused considerable psychological damage.  It was just a matter of time.”

Mom gave no indication she knew where she was.  Dr. Williams took hold of her arm and guided her to a wheelchair.  I watched silently as Mom, a nurse, and Dr. Williams disappeared down the hallway.
 
Mr. Hurley patted me on the shoulder.  “I need to be with your mother while Dr. Williams admits her.”

“There is no way I’m staying out here.  I’m going with you.”

“No, James, you need to say here.  Dr. Williams won’t be evaluating her until tomorrow.  They have to do a complete physical examination first to eliminate any possibility of head trauma.  From what you’ve told me, it sounds like your mother is suffering from what is called functional amnesia, specifically dissociative amnesia. That is when a person loses the memory of a significant personal experience.  This gap or series of gaps is usually related to a traumatic or extremely stressful situation.  For example, a rape victim may lose her memory of the event or a soldier may not be able to recall a battle.”
 
I was impressed with Mr. Hurley’s knowledge of the subject. “So you think the police will back off?”

“James, the police only want to speak with your mother. She is not suspected of any complicity in any crime.  As her attorney, it is my job to protect her and see that she is treated fairly.  As long as she is in the hospital, they cannot talk with her.”

I told Mr. Hurley about the journal.  I was surprised he didn’t show more interest in it. The first thing I had to do was get it translated.  I did not speak Romanian and didn’t know anyone who did.  I knew I should give it to Mac, but I had to find out what was in it first.
 
Mr. Hurley smiled and said, "You have to be patient. Go back to the hotel. Get some rest, and, whatever you do, do not talk to anyone about your mother.
 
"That's going to be difficult. Charlie and Uncle Terry will want to know what happened between Mom and me. They saw how angry I was when I made them leave the room. I doubt a gee I don't remember, or Mr. Hurley told me not to talk about it is going to sit well with them.  Besides, Aunt Em was in the room the whole time." 
 
Mr. Hurley nodded. "I'll talk to them before I go in."
 
"Does this include Mac?" I had the eerie feeling he was lurking somewhere just waiting for the right moment to pounce on me again.
 
Mr. Hurley smiled. "No, you can trust Mac.”
 
I hated all this cloak and dagger shit. Mr. Hurley patted me on the shoulder. He walked over to Charlie, Aunt Em, and Uncle Terry, who were looking at me with a combined expression of anger and confusion. I felt a desperate need to apologize but I knew that would only add to their frustration over being left out of the loop.  Not eager to face a family firing squad, I walked out the door without saying a word.
 
As I walked down the hill toward the city center, I thought about Mom, Dad, Susan, Charlie, and how everything I said and did seemed to make an already terrible situation worse for all of them.
  
I thought about Dad sitting in a cell somewhere waiting to be sentenced to life in prison. I wondered if he knew about what I found at the cabin. As far as I knew, he still didn't know about the journal or that he was being investigated in connection to another murder. He thought he was so brilliant. I had no doubt he took pride in thinking he had manipulated the system into avoiding the death penalty.
 
My thoughts shifted. Around this time last year, Dad, Charlie and I were probably on our boat on Lake Washington fishing. Susan was most likely shopping for new shoes at the mall. I suddenly laughed out loud. Susan had more shoes than anyone could wear in a lifetime, but she always found another pair she couldn't live without. I remembered criticizing her for being frivolous and often called her a spoiled rich kid. God, I would give anything to take back those words and have our lives return to the way it was. I'd even take Susan to the mall myself and buy her a pair of shoes with my own money.




 







 

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him. There are many unsubstantiated Romani superstitions. Bride kidnapping is one of them. Some believe the bride is kidnapped before the age of 10 for the sole purpose of marrying one of the sons. She is raised in the Romani culture and when her son comes of age, she assists in kidnapping a wife for him. There are stories of this going on for generations. It is not a part of the Romani culture. It is simply one of the many unfounded superstitions associated with the Romani. They, obviously, deny any truth to these superstitions.

Chapter 26
Mom is Hospitalized

By Sasha

Mr. Hurley immediately contacted Dr. Williams, a close friend and top rate psychiatrist at Harborview Medical Center.  There were obviously advantages to being one of the best criminal attorneys in town.  One being access to first class specialists.  Dr. Williams advised Mom not be admitted to University Hospital. Putting her and Susan together was not wise.
 
Aunt Em, Uncle Terry and Charlie sat in the waiting room while Mr. Hurley and I spoke privately.  Filled with guilt, I poured my heart out to him.  “I pushed her too hard. It’s all my fault.”

“No, Charlie, your mother has been on the verge of a break down for a long time.  Living under your dad’s heavy thumb has to have caused considerable psychological damage.  It was just a matter of time.”

Mom gave no indication she knew where she was.  Dr. Williams took hold of her arm and guided her toward a wheelchair.  I watched silently as Mom, a nurse, and Dr. Williams disappeared down the hallway.
 
Mr. Hurley patted me on the shoulder.  “I need to be with your mother while Dr. Williams admits her.”

“There is no way I’m staying out here.  I’m going with you.”

“No, James, you need to say here.  Dr. Williams won’t be evaluating her until tomorrow.  They have to do a complete physical examination first to eliminate any possibility of head trauma.  From what you’ve told me, it sounds like your mother is suffering from what is called functional amnesia, specifically dissociative amnesia.  That is when a person loses the memory of an important personal experience.  This gap or series of gaps is usually related to a traumatic or extremely stressful situation.  For example, a rape victim may lose her memory of the event or a soldier may not be able to recall a battle.”
 
I was impressed with Mr. Hurley’s knowledge of the subject. “So you think the police will back off?”

“James, the police only want to speak with your mother. She is not suspected of any complicity in any crime.  As her attorney, it is my job to protect her and see that she is treated fairly.  As long as she is in the hospital, they cannot talk with her.”

Mr. Hurley knew about the journal.  I was surprised he hadn’t mentioned it. The first thing I had to do was get it translated.  I did not speak Romanian and didn’t know anyone who did.  I knew I should give it to Mac, but I had to find out what was in it first.
 
Mr. Hurley smiled and said, "You have to be patient. Go back to the hotel. Get some rest, and, whatever you do, do not talk to anyone about your mother.
 
"That's going to be difficult. Charlie and Uncle Terry will want to know what happened between Mom and me. They saw how angry I was when I made them leave the room. I doubt a 'gee I don't remember', or 'Mr. Hurley told me not to talk about it' is going to sit well with them.  Besides, Aunt Em was in the room the whole time." 
 
Mr. Hurley nodded. "I'll talk to them before I go in."
 
"Does this include Mac?" I had the eerie feeling he was lurking somewhere just waiting for the right moment to pounce on me again.
 
Mr. Hurley smiled. "No, you can trust Mac.”
 
I hated all this cloak and dagger shit. Mr. Hurley patted me on the shoulder. He walked over to Charlie, Aunt Em, and Uncle Terry, who were looking at me with a combined expression of anger and confusion. I felt a desperate need to apologize but I knew that would only add to their frustration over being left out of the loop.  Not eager to face a family firing squad, I walked out the door without saying a word.
 
As I walked down the hill toward the city center, I thought about Mom, Dad, Susan, Charlie, and how everything I said and did seemed to make an already terrible situation worse for all of them.
  
I thought about Dad sitting in a cell somewhere waiting to be sentenced to life in prison. I wondered if he knew about what I found at the cabin. As far as I knew, he still didn't know about the journal or that he was being investigated in connection to another murder. He thought he was so clever. I had no doubt he took pride in thinking he had manipulated the system into avoiding the death penalty.
 
My thoughts shifted. Around this time last year, Dad, Charlie and I were probably on our boat on Lake Washington fishing. Susan was most likely shopping for new shoes at the mall. I suddenly laughed out loud. Susan had more shoes than anyone could wear in a lifetime, but she always found another pair she couldn't live without. I remembered criticizing her for being frivolous and often called her a spoiled rich kid. God, I would give anything to take back those words and have our lives return to the way it was. I'd even take Susan to the mall myself and buy her a pair of shoes with my own money.

Chapter 26
What Is The Next Step?

By Sasha

DO NOT READ ...THIS CHAPTER AND NONE OF THOSE FOLLOWING HAVE BEEN UPDATED YET.



Mom lay curled up on the couch sound asleep.  I bent down and gently kissed her on the cheek.  We were both physically and emotionally exhausted, but for me, sleep was not on my list of things to do.  Covering her with a blanket, I tiptoed across the room, opened the sliding glass door, and stepped out onto the veranda.
 
Hundreds of jumbled, loosely connected thoughts, each a giant iron ping-pong ball, ricocheted violently inside my head.  I sat down on the large wicker chair and with my feet pressed against the white, cast-iron railing, tipped the chair back allowing me to rest my head against the wall.  The cold night air sent a chill up my spine.  I closed my eyes, hoping the silence would help me process everything Mom had told me. But my fluctuating emotions blocked my ability to concentrate.
 
Normally a cool-headed and logical person, I suddenly found myself in unfamiliar territory. I felt like a small, frightened child, sitting alone in the dark, forced to face very real demons with no means of defending myself.
 
My heart beat frantically as it bounced from anger at Mom for being so weak to guilt for being judgmental, to rage at Mac for not telling me everything, and a hatred of Dad so consuming, I wished he were dead.
 
The throbbing pain inside my head was excruciating. I rubbed my temples with my fingertips while dismissing the foolish idea of taking an aspirin.  This wasn't something a couple of pills were going to fix. The only way I could see out of this hellish nightmare was to get the answers to my growing list of questions.
 
As much as I wanted—no needed—answers, my gut told me once I stepped into Dad's world, there would be no turning back.  It didn't take a genius to know the deeper I dug, the worse it was likely to get.  My curiosity had always been my strong point, but I feared it was about to become my undoing.
 
** * * * * *
 
I woke to the sound of Mom, Charlie, and Aunt Em laughing.  I sighed in relief, realizing my headache was gone.  Mom came out onto the veranda and acting as though it was just another ordinary day, smiled, and patted me affectionately on the head.  "Good morning, sleepy head."
 
She then handed me my ulcer medication and a large glass of milk.  In a voice only intended for me to hear, she whispered, "James, please don't say anything to Charlie. He doesn't need to know about this."
 
Mom's brief acknowledgement of reality immediately disappeared, leaving me no time to respond.  June Cleaver smiled, patted me on the head again, and went back inside.
 
Psychology irritated me. In my world, psychology is not based on logic, just a compilation of random, unscientific observations open to individual interpretation. True science is something that is transferable by theories and hypotheses into the language of mathematics or logic.  Human behavior is insanely complex and human beings are nearly impossible to study in the same ways that rocks, heavenly bodies, blue birds, and nucleotide base pairs are.  The mind, on the other hand, is not measureable. I look at the mind's activity as behavior and even then, there are only two ways of doing that: either by observing it, or asking people by a method called 'self-reporting'.  Unfortunately, behavior changes, people forget, and often lie when you ask them about it. If you bypass self-reporting and rely on observation, how does anyone make sense of it?  Does that guy look angry to you?  Is he nervous or upset?  Until valid and reliable self-reporting measures are created, psychology will remain a mystery to me.
 
A strong feeling of frustration pulled me from the depth of my thoughts.  I understood how years of grooming erased Mom's personal identity, but I did not understand how, knowing she knew the truth, Dad continued to exert control over her.  Listening to everyone laugh and joke, pretending life was good, was more than I could tolerate.  I got up, grabbed my jacket from the back of the living room chair, and walked toward the door.  Mom rushed over and again, speaking in a whisper said, "James, where are you going?"
 
"I need some air and time to myself.  I have a lot to sort out."
 
"James, can't you just leave this alone?"
 
I shook my head, kissed her on the cheek, and whispered into her ear, "No, and when I get back, we need to finish the conversation we started last night."
 
Pretending she had not heard me, she said, "Don't be late."  I opened the door and without saying goodbye, walked down the hall toward the elevator.  My first stop would be the library.  Time to look up the statistics on children of incest; a subject I was unfamiliar with.

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye. Short, technical chapter, possibly a little boring, but necessary, poor James and Mom need a break.

Chapter 27
A Duel At Thirty Paces or a Truce?

By Sasha

Reading the words, incest doesn't cause birth defects, it just increases the likelihood of a child getting a double-dose of one or more recessive genetic problems set my mind at ease.  The bottom line was although ethically and socially unacceptable, there was little proof that incestuous relationships produced a higher rate of genetically flawed offspring.  Problems arise when families continue to interbreed, causing the mistakes to multiply, definitely NOT something I anticipated as a potential problem for Charlie, Susan, or me.
 
Knowing at some point I would have to explain this to my brother and sister, only added to my already high anxiety.  The public saw us as freaks because they believed we carried the non-existent 'killer gene'.  The assumption our children would be genetically predisposed to a myriad of maladies would certainly become fodder for the tabloids.  God I despised ignorance!
 
The sound of my cell phone ringing startled me. Seeing Mac's name on the screen caused the knot in my stomach to tighten wondering why he was calling me.  Intentionally hiding my curiosity, I answered with a casual, "Hi, what's up?"
 
"Hi, James, what are you doing?"
 
Not in the mood for a game of questions and answers, I resorted to sarcasm.  "I'm debunking the myth my children are destined to be born with two heads and twelve toes."
 
Obviously confused, Mac asked, "What the hell are you talking about?"
 
Not waiting for me to respond, he quickly added, "We need to talk.  Can you meet me at the Starbucks down the street from your hotel in twenty minutes?"
 
Although the sound of Mac's voice revived my anger with him, I forced myself to ignore the urge to hang up on him.  "Sure, I have a few questions for you too."
 
Although it only took me five minutes to walk the short distance from the library to Starbucks, I was surprised to see Mac seated at a booth in the corner.  As I walked over to the table, I felt a temper tantrum growing with each step.  I sat across from Mac and just glared at him.
 
Paying no attention to my obvious displeasure, he smiled and asked, "What did your mom tell you?"
 
I wasn't ready to let him off the hook just yet.  I changed the subject. "You used me, didn't you?  Wouldn't it have been a lot easier if you just talked to her yourself?"
 
Mac shook his head.  "No, you are the only one who could reach her.  Your mother would never open up to me, and you know it."
 
"So, I'm just a means to an end, nothing more."
 
"James, you know better than that.  I care about you and your family but I also have a job to do.  I want answers to the same questions you have."
 
"So, now we are a team, right?"
 
Mac grinned, "You're more like a secret agent."
 
I was not amused.  "So, you expect me to interrogate Mom and like a trusted informant, report everything she says back to you."
 
Mac sat back and stared at me several seconds before responding.  "James, I don't know what is bothering you, but if you are looking for someone to knock that giant chip off your shoulder, you're going to have to look elsewhere."
 
Mac was right.  I was mad at him, but I was also mad at the whole damn world.  I wanted to scream, I wanted to punch someone—anyone. I really didn't know how much more I could take.
 
"James, do you want to tell me what's going on inside that big brain of yours, or would you prefer I go first?"
 
Knowing I had already passed the point of no return, I reluctantly accepted defeat and in a voice filled with dread said, "My day is already ruined, how much worse can it possibly get?"
 
Mac placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his tightly clasped fists.  "The jewelry found at the cabin has been positively identified as belonging to Mary Ellen, the girl missing from your neighborhood.  The finger prints on the jewelry and plastic bag belong to your father."
 
Dad was either a bigger arrogant son-of-a-bitch than I originally believed, or he was an idiot.  "Why in hell did he leave behind so much evidence that he had to know would lead directly back to him?"
 
Mac dismissed my question and continued.  "He also did a sloppy job cleaning up.  After removing the floorboards in the kitchen and living room, they found enough blood to indicate whomever it belonged to could not have survived. Preliminary tests indicate it came from the same person.  We will have to wait a few more days for the DNA results to determine if it belongs to Mary Ellen."
 
Being able to put a face and name to one of Dad's victims instantly transformed my nightmare into reality. "Any luck finding a body?"
 
Mac shook his head.
 
"All twelve of the Belltown Murders have been identified.  Why is this murder different from the others?  Serial killers don’t usually change a proven method unless there is a good reason."
 
Mac nodded. "No, they don't.  All we know is Mary Ellen disappeared around the same time your grandfather died.  If there is a connection, we haven't figured it out yet."
 
I know Mac wanted to know what I had learned from Mom.  He wasn't leaving me much wiggle room. As much as I didn't want to talk about it, I knew I no longer had a choice.  "As far as I can tell, Mom never met Grandpa.  Everything she knows about Dad and his crazy family came from Dad.  She did say she suspects Grandpa killed Grandma but I didn't feel comfortable pressing her about why she believes this."

"James, we already suspect foul play but without more to go on, that's where it's going to stay."

"Mac, how much of what I tell you goes into the file?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You and I know a reporter would pay a hefty price to get a look at it."

"James, the file is confidential."

"Grow up, Watson.  This is the real world.  Besides, Dad's attorney has a right to see all the evidence against him."

"Okay, you lost me, Sherlock.  Where are you going with this?"

"Do me a favor and hold off putting anything Mom told me into the file."

"Why?"

"Call it gut instinct, a sixth sense, or whatever you want, but I believe the less Dad knows, the better chance I—we—have of getting to the truth."

Mac leaned back, crossed his arms, and grinned, "What are you up to, James?"

"You'll just have to trust me."

Mac Nodded.  'You really haven't given me anything concrete to work with so I don't see a problem with waiting."

Mac paused then added, "I sure hope you know what you are doing."

So did I.

I paused a moment before continuing.  I felt my throat tighten around the words as I tried to speak.  "It seems my grandmother is not my grandmother."  Again, I paused, this time to clear my throat.  "Dad's sister is his mother."
 
Saying the words out loud felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I could hardly breathe.  Terrified the words would hang like a flashing red light forever in front of me, I forced myself to move on. "I have no doubt this has everything to do with Dad's warped opinion of women.  Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine."
 
I could tell from Mac's silence that he was as surprised as I was to learn about Dad and his sister.  We both sat staring at each other a long time before I finally spoke.
 
"It took nearly two hours for me to get this much from Mom.  I am sure she knows more, but Dad's grip on her is still very real.  I'm afraid if I push her too hard, I'll lose her."
 
"James, if we are going to get to the bottom of this, you have to try. Somehow this is all connected; we just don't have enough pieces to put the puzzle together."
 
Knowing Mac was right didn't lessen the fact I felt lost and alone in a world I didn't want any part of.  For me, there would be no village to hold my hand or guide me through this, all I had was Mac.
 
He reached over and patted my hand.  "Snohomish is on top of the investigation at the cabin.  I have full confidence that if there is anything there, they will find it.  However, if Whatcom County and the Blaine police don't find something soon, I fear they are going to close up shop.  James, you have to find out what your mother knows before it's too late."
 
* * * * *
 
I left Mac at Starbucks and intentionally took the long route back to the hotel. I needed time to think.
 
I went over the evidence a hundred times, but kept coming back to one fact. None of the twelve Belltown murders was sexually motivated.  Knowing Dad kept them alive for a significant period of time to torture them led me to only one conclusion; the motivation was anger, but anger at what or whom?  His father, his sister, or both?  Mac was right.  Everything was connected to Dad's past.  I could only pray Mom would provide the answer, or at least point me in the right direction.

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye. My reference to no village to hold my hand is from Hillary Clinton's book "It takes a village to raise a child"...let me know if you think I need to clarify this....

Chapter 27
A Quick Lesson in Romani Culture

By Sasha

This is a completely new chapter that alters the direction of the book.  The importance is not obvious now, but will come into play later in the story.  I have updated following chapters to reflect the contents of this chapter.







I knew Mom and Charlie had mixed feelings about the death penalty. I wasn't sure where Aunt Em stood on the subject, but I had no doubt Uncle Terry would have no problem volunteering to put the needle in his arm. I knew I should feel guilty about handing the police the evidence they needed to keep the case open, but I didn't. Dad was already dead to me. The only emotions I felt for him were anger and hatred. I made a left at the bottom of the hill and headed straight for the library.
 
I already spoke fluent French, Spanish, and German but had no background in Rumanian.  The smartest and quickest things to do would be to go to the Linguistics Department at the University and have someone there translate the journal.  But the idea of a stranger reading the journal was not an option I wanted to take.  This was something I had to do on my own.


I immediately learned that the journal was not in traditional Rumanian but in Romani, a Gypsy form, making it more difficult to translate.  After several hours, I was finally able to make sense of the first three pages.




The first entry was written on a separate sheet of paper inserted into the front of the journal.  There was no date to indicate when it was written.
 
Translation:

 
I am Adrian Popescu son of Lucian Propescu.  I do not know where or when I was born.  My father, Lucian emigrated from Europe to North America after the war in 1918 or 1919. He came from a subgroup of the Romani (Gypsy) people.  They were traditionally smiths and metal workers. At the age of 16 Lucian married a gaje (outsider) without permission of the vista (clan). Lucian then defied Romani law by teaching his gaje wife spells and necromancy (conjuration of the spirits of the dead for purposes of magically revealing the future or influencing the course of events) and was eventually brought before the Kris (high court).  Lucian received a sentence of marime’ (permanent banishment from the Gypsy community).  Marime’ stigmatizes all wrongdoers and their immediate family as polluted and justifies their expulsion from the community.  Permanent marime’ means that the person’s blood is changed to gaje blood and they are outcast/exiled forever from the tribe.  They are no longer part of the Gypsy nation, receive no protection or hospitality, and lose their accent and their ability to cast the Gypsy curse.

Although no longer living with the tribe, Lucian refused to abide by the marime’ and continue to consider himself a full blooded Romani.  He blamed his gaje wife for ruining his life  and left her in Europe before moving to the United States.  Determined to create his own vista, he began searching for a new wife.  Unable to have contact with other gypsies, yet unfamiliar with gaje ways, he found the task difficult.  He attempted to take a young gaje girl against her will but when she got away, he had to hide from the police.

Lucian travelled to many cities and small towns to avoid arrest.  He continued his search for a wife, but his unfamiliarity of gaje ways made his search unsuccessful.  He decided to find a young girl and raise her to be his wife.  After several failed attempts, he found a child to his liking in a remote campground near his house in Bellingham.  She was no older than four and he named her Luminita, Little Light.  He was strict, taught her to be a good Romani woman and when she was eleven or twelve she gave birth to me, Adrian Propescu, also known as Dark.  Luminita became pregnant soon after the birth of Adrian but both died in childbirth.  He buried her on the property.  It was then that Lucian decided it was time to move.  He sold the small farm in Bellingham and we moved south to the small town of Arlington.
 
Lucian raised me to be a strict believer in Romani ways.  He also prepared me for the time when I would take a wife.  I was ten years old when we went to a campground in Bellingham in search of a bride. 

June 6, 1935

It was after ten o’clock at night and there was a full moon to light our way.  The family was still awake sitting by the camp fire when we spotted her.  She had long blonde hair, dark eyes, and was no more than six years old.  She seemed a happy child, laughing and giggling while her older brother made silly faces.  My heart beat with excitement as Lucian and I waited for them to go to sleep.  It seemed like hours before we dare enter the small tent the children slept in.  Lucian placed his hand over her mouth so the child could not scream.  Within a few minutes, we were far enough away that I knew no one would miss her until morning.  By then, we would be gone and she would be mine forever.  I named her Alfina; a name with no known meaning.

Alfina was a beautiful child but didn’t take to me. Lucian was determined to teach her to be a good Gypsy but her temperament was not one of obedience.  Eventually he wore her down, and she began to forget her parents and brother.  When she was ten, Lucian performed the marriage ceremony.  I was fourteen.
 


July 8, 1939

Alfina died giving birth to a stillborn girl child.  I was furious. Lucian and I buried them in the woods where no one would find them. So much time wasted. Now I have to find another wife.  I will do better next time.  I will find a stronger girl and one who will obey.

 
* * * * * * * * * *

 
After reading the first three pages, I wasn’t sure if I could read any more.  But as always, my curiosity told me to keep going.  Tomorrow, I will spend the entire day in the library and translate as much as I can.  I don't have much time before Mac will me for the journal.

As I walked back to the hotel, I went over what I had read, word for word.  I knew very little about the Romani people, but I was sure that Adrian’s descriptions were distorted and perverted.  Romanis are a gentle people with strict laws to allow the tribes to co-exist with the gaje.  They do not like outsiders to invade their privacy.  Men are respectful of women.  The gaje view the Romani as thieves, practicers of magic and untrustworthy.  The Romani women are known to be fortune tellers—primarily for the gaje—a good way for the women to earn money.  Because they roam freely and live very close to nature, they develop heightened senses about certain things.  They are very observant in other ways as well.  They know about natural cures found in the woods and hedgerows, all of this is not just myth it is fact passed from adult to child and through living so close to Mother Nature. If Gypsies seem to have more sixth sense than others, it is because they understand acutely how much we are part of nature.

Romani people are very spiritual, they believe that we are always surrounded by spirits, good and bad and the use of charms and spells are needed to keep a balance, protect them from harm, and bring them luck.

They listen to nature; they are children of nature at one with the creatures and fauna.

The belief that the Romani steal brides is a myth built from the practice of the male providing the dowry.  When two Romanis love each, other it is not uncommon for them to run away and get married to avoid having to provide a dowry.  History has reported stories of woman being taken during war but this is not just limited to the Romani people.
 
I realized I needed to do more research on the Romani to fully understand Grandfather’s journal.  From the little I had read so far, it seemed obvious he had no respect for the true traditions of the Romani and broke their laws when it suited him.  I understood why the Kris felt he deserved marime’.



 


* * * * * * * * * *
 
List of Characters:

Please note age of the Alfina 1 and 2 at the time they were kidnapped is not known.
Lucian Propescu - James great grandfather/John Mathews grandfather
Luminiti - Adrian's Mother
Adian Propescu - aka Dark/James' grandfather/John Mathews father
James Mathews  -  18 year old genius
John Martin Mathews  AKA Alexandru Popescu – Father and Serial Killer
Martha Mathews - Mom
Charlie Mathews – Brother 13
Susan Mathews -  Sister 16
Detective MacKinnon  ‘Mac’ – Head of Belltown Killer Task Force
Thomas Hurley – Criminal Attorney representing the family and Alfina
Dr. Perez – Susan’s Psychiatrist
Marcy – James’s ex-girlfriend
Marilyn- Susan’s Day Nurse
Dr. Williams – Mom’s Psychiatrist also Alfina 3’s doctor
Dr. Gunzel – Alfina’s orthopedic surgeon
Alfina 1 – Kidnapped June 6, 1935  died in childbirth in 1940 –female child stillborn
Alfina 2-  Kidnapped August 15, 1940 age 8 gave birth to Alfina 3 June 21,  1945
                 Alfina 2 died giving birth to stillborn male child in 1948
Alfina 3-  aka Bunica – child of Alfina 2 born in 1945.  In 1957 at age 12 gave birth to Alexandru (Mother of John Mathews)
Alicia Campbell – Babysitter missing for nearly 5 years found buried at the cabin
Angela Campbell- Alicia’s Grandmother
Rachael – Mr. Hurley’s assistant

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory and eidetic memory turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 27
Translating the Journal

By Sasha

 I already spoke fluent French, German, Russian, and Spanish. However, Romani was not on my list. It would have been faster and a whole lot easier if I went to the University and spoke with someone in the linguistics department but that would be breaking the rules.  I certainly didn’t want a stranger reading the journal.
 
After several hours, I still couldn’t translate the journal.  It apparently was written in a Gypsy form called Romani.  To my disappointment, there were few known historical documents about the early phases of the Romani language. I did discover several Romani superstitions, one of which is bride kidnapping.  Bride kidnapping still occurs in countries spanning Central Asia, the Caucasus region, and parts of Africa. In most countries, bride kidnapping is considered a sex crime. However, even when the practice is against the law, judicial enforcement remains lax, particularly in Bulgaria, Turkey, Moldova, Kyrgyzstan and Chechnya.  None of this helped me understand the journal.  I took a deep breath, settled in and began studying the language. By the time the library closed, I was able to translate the first three pages of the journal. 
 



* * * * * * *
 
Translation of the first three pages of the journal:
Adian Popescu Family
Mother      Luminita
Father      Lucian Propescu
 
I am Adian Popescu, son of Lucian Propescu, (Light).  Lucian emigrated from Europe in the early 20^th century. He was from a subgroup of the Romani people.  They were traditionally smiths and metalworkers. At the age of 16, Lucian married a gaje (outsider) without permission of the vista (clan). Lucian defied Romani law by teaching his wife spells and necromancy (conjuration of the spirits of the dead for purposes of magically revealing the future or influencing the course of events) and was eventually brought before the Kris (court) for breaking the laws against teaching gaje spells.  He was judged guilty and received a sentence of marime’ (permanent banishment from the Gypsy community).  Marime’ stigmatizes all wrongdoers and their immediate family as polluted and justifies their expulsion from the community.  Permanent marime’ means that the person’s blood is changed to gaje blood and they are outcast or exiled forever from the tribe.  They are no longer part of the Gypsy natsia (nation), receive no protection and hospitality, and lose their accent and their ability to cast the Gypsy curse.
 
Lucian refused to abide by the marime’ and continued to consider himself a full-blooded Romani.  He blamed his wife for ruining his life and put her to death before I was born.  Determined to create his own vista, Lucian began searching for a new wife.  No longer able to have contact with other gypsies, yet unfamiliar with gaje ways, he found the task difficult.  Finally, he took a young bride against her will, had to hide from the police after she ran away, and reported him.  Lucian travelled to many cities and small towns in search of a wife, but his social ineptness in gaje ways made his search unsuccessful.  Unable to attract a mate with his charm, Lucian decided to find a younger girl and raise her to be his wife.  After several failed attempts, he found my mother in a campground near his house in Bellingham.  She was no older than four were and he named her Luminita, Little Light.  Lucian was strict, taught her to be a good Romani, and when she was eleven or twelve she gave birth to a me; he named me Adian, meaning Dark.  Luminita was no longer of use to Lucian, and like his first wife, he killed her and buried her on the property.  It was then that he decided it was time to move.  He sold the small farm in Bellingham, and we moved to Arlington.
 
I was raised to be a strict believer in Romani ways.  Lucian also prepared me for when and how I would take a wife.  I was ten years old when we went to a different campground in Bellingham in search of my bride.  This plan worked once and Lucian was certain it would work again.
June 6, 1935
It was after ten o’clock at night, and there was a full moon to light the way.  The family was still awake when I spotted her.  She had long blonde hair, dark eyes and was no more than six years old.  She seemed a happy child, laughing and giggling while her older brother made silly faces.  My heart beat with excitement as Lucian and I waited for them to go to sleep.  It seemed like hours before we dare enter the small tent the children slept in.  Lucian placed his hand over the child’s mouth to silence her scream.  Within a few minutes, we were far enough away that we knew no one would miss her until morning.  By then we would be gone, and she would be mine forever.  I named her Alfina, a name with no known meaning.
 
June 1937
Alfina was a beautiful child but didn’t take to me.  Lucian was determined to teach her to be a good Gypsy, but her temperament was not one of obedience.  Eventually he wore her down, and she began to forget her parents and brother.  When she was ten, Lucian performed the marriage ritual.  I was fourteen.



July 8, 1939
Alfina died giving birth to a stillborn girl child.  Lucian and I were angry. We buried them in the woods where no one would find them. So much time wasted. I knew I would have to find another wife.  I told myself I would get a stronger girl and one who would obey.

 
After reading the first three pages, I wasn’t sure if I could read any more.  However, as always, my curiosity told me to keep going.  Tomorrow I would spend the entire day in the library and translate as much as time would allow.  I didn't know how much longer I had before Mac would ask me for the journal.

 

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory and eidetic memory turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 28
Two Days of Hell

By Sasha

I woke early, skipped breakfast, and headed to the hospital to see Mom.  I spoke with Dr. Williams, who informed me Mom could not have visitors until tomorrow.  Frustrated, I stomped out of the hospital.  I called Mr. Hurley and told him I was on my way to the library to finish translating the journal.  He wasn’t happy.

“James, you are messing with evidence and could get in a lot of trouble.”

“It was given to me, and I haven’t turned it over to Mac, so as far as I’m concerned, it hasn’t been logged in yet, so it’s not evidence.”

“James, don’t play games.  This is serious.”

No one knew more than me how serious this was.  I said goodbye and hung up the phone.

The fact that Dad’s father and grandfather wrote in Romani and not in Romanian made my job much more difficult than expected; but not impossible.  By two o’clock I was able to translate more than three-quarters of the journal.  I was physically and emotionally exhausted.
 
A continuation of Adian Propescu’s journal:

Aug 15, 1940

I found my second wife in Bellingham in 1940.  Just like the first, she was camping with her family.  She was older, maybe seven.  Beautiful red hair and sky blue eyes.  Despite being feisty, she was a quick learner.  She did her chores, kept the house clean, and was a decent cook.  I named her Alfina 2.
 
I paused a moment and quickly thumbed through a book lying at the bottom of the pile on the table.  I read the section on Romani names and learned that it was not a custom for Gypsies to name children after someone that had died.  They would seldom even speak the person’s name.  I wondered why, if Grandfather’s dad was so strict, he would disregard this fundamental rule.  I closed the book and returned to translating the journal.
 

June 21, 1945

Early in the morning Alfina 2 went into labor.  To my disappointment, she gave birth to a girl.  I tried to take the baby from her but Alfina put up a fight.  She knew I wanted a boy; I had no need of a girl.  She begged me to let her keep the baby and promised the next one would be a boy.  Despite Lucian’s insistence I kill the child, I reluctantly agreed to let the girl child live.
 
July 2, 1948

Alfina 2 gave birth to a boy early this morning.  He was a sickly child and died a few hours later.  Unable to contain my anger I beat her until she was unconscious.  I buried the boy child in the woods.   When I returned Alfina, two and the girl child were gone.  I searched the property and found them hiding in a small cave near the river.  They were both weak, hungry, and in no condition to put up a fight.  I found a large heavy stick and beat her again.  Alfina 2 promised never to run away again.  I told her if she did, I would punish her by killing the girl child. 
 

April 7, 1946

Alfina 2 gave birth to a second baby boy.  I named him Flavius Popescu.  Alfina had a difficult delivery, and she and the baby died several hours later.  I buried them in the woods with the others.  Because the girl child was now seven years old, there was no need to find a new wife.  I decided she could become my wife and when old enough give me a healthy boy.  I named the girl child Alfina 3.
Again, I paused.  It seemed that Great-Grandfather and Grandfather changed the rules to suit their needs.  I found this strange for a people that valued the rules as much as the Romani Gypsies did.

 
September 2, 1957

Alfina 3 gave birth to a healthy baby boy. I named him Alexandru Popescu. 
 

The rest of the journal covers multiple beatings of both Alfina 3 and Alexandru.  Adian was a cruel man who cared for no one except himself.  At age six, Adian made Alexandru shoot his dog.  This was Adian’s way of teaching his son to be strong. In 1964, the school district learned of Alexandru and insisted he go to school.  Adian was not pleased but had no choice.  Lucian kept Alfina 3 hidden so she would not have to go to school too. 
 
Lucian and Alfina 3 continued living as recluses living off the land.  He never went into town to purchase supplies.  He knew very few people and he discouraged anyone from coming around.  He had a reputation for being a crazy old man and people were happy to leave him alone.
 
Alexandru did exceptionally well in school.  He didn’t like his name and told everyone to call him John.  He and his father fought constantly.  Adian had plans for his son, but my father refused to listen.  He graduated with honors and won a scholarship to Washington State University.  He left his mother/sister and never returned.  After Adian’s death, James’s father inherited the property.

Despite his horrific upbringing, nowhere in the journal did I find an explanation of what happened to Lucian, how my father learned of his death, or why my father became a serial killer.  Dad left Arlington after graduating from high school and started a new life with the gaje.  It was as though when he walked away from his father, he left his Romani heritage behind. The answers I was looking for were not in the journal.

It was five-thirty, and I was finally finished.  I called Mr. Hurley and told him I was ready to give Mac the journal.  Mr. Hurley was amazed that I was able to learn a new language in such a short period of time.

I just laughed.  “Having a photographic memory has its plusses.”
Mr. Hurley instructed me to meet Mac at the restaurant on Fifth Avenue in twenty minutes.

 
* * * * * * * * *
 

I arrived at the restaurant at six o’clock.  Mac and Mr. Hurley were sitting at a table in the back waiting for me.  My heart was racing so fast I felt light headed.  I sat across from Mac, who had an angry expression on his face.  Obviously, Mr. Hurley told him about the journal and what I had been doing.  Without saying a word, I slid the journal across the table and with my hands shaking, I handed him a copy of the translation.

Mac, still looking angry, asked, “James, is this the only copy of the translation?”

‘Yes, Mac, it is the only copy other than the one I have in my head.  Sorry, but it’s there forever.  That’s how an eidetic memory works.”

Betty set a cup of coffee on the table.  I waited patiently while Mac read the translation.  When he was finished, he handed it to Mr. Hurley.

“James, it is obvious your grandfather was insane.  Unfortunately, nothing in this journal implicates your father or explains why he killed all those girls.”

“Mac, do you think he knew his sister was his mother?  Maybe that’s what triggered his anger toward women.”

“That’s a question I need to ask your mother and your aunt.  The only other person that could tell us is your dad, and I doubt he’d be willing to talk to us.”

“What about the cabin?  The journal lists all the bodies Dad’s father buried there.  Maybe one is Alfina 3, Dad’s mother.  Have you received any information on the DNA of the skull and bone I found?”

Mac’s expression softened.  “Yes.  The bones have been identified as belonging to Alicia.”

My heart sank.  As much as I wanted to know what happened to her, I was still hoping she was alive.

“Have you informed her family?”

“Alicia’s parents were killed in a car accident three years ago.  The only family member left is her grandmother.  I spoke to her yesterday.  She was devastated but relieved to finally know her granddaughter can now be buried beside her parents.”

 
“Have they found the other bodies?  Alfina 1, Alfina 2 and the babies?”

Mac shook his head.  “What difference would that make?  According to the journal, they died in childbirth.”

Feeling myself on the verge of screaming, I took a deep breath before asking, “Have you found any information on Lucian, Dad’s father’s death?  Why is there no death certificate or a burial record?  Is there a possibility he may still be alive?”

Mac nodded.  “Yes, but unlikely.  He would be extremely old.”
Under my breath I mumbled, “Damn it.”

Mac leaned back and in a tone vibrating with frustration said, “What are you up to?  Why is this so important to you?”

"Damn it, Mac.  I just need to know everything."

Mac leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.  "I did learn that your father took the name of a student in the class ahead of him.  The student's name was John Mathews.  He died in a strange accident.  He fell out of a tree.  Apparently, your father just took his name.  For some reason, no one caught on, and he has been John Mathews ever since."

I wanted to ask about the real John Mathews death but my head was spinning and I honestly didn't think I could handle one more unexplained death.

Mr. Hurley interrupted.  “Before you guys come to blows, I have some information.  James, your father is scheduled to appear in court in two days for sentencing.  I have no idea what he is up to, but he has asked that you speak in his behalf at the sentencing.”

My head began to race at the speed of light.  I looked at Mr. Hurley and asked, “Does the press know about Alicia yet?”

Mac answered.  “No.  The prosecutor hasn’t released that information yet.”

I grinned.  “Whatever you do, don’t let anyone know about her until after the sentencing.”
 
Mac looked at me curiously.  “What are you up to?”
 
“Does Snohomish County have to honor Dad’s plea agreement in King County?”

Both Mac and Mr. Hurley laughed, and then Mr. Hurley said, “No.  If he killed Alicia in Snohomish County, they can try him for murder there and this time they can ask for the death penalty.”

Mr. Hurley grinned again.  "Part of the deal was he tells the truth about ALL the murders he committed.  If he killed her in King County the plea agreement won't stand, and if he killed her in Snohomish County, either way, he's screwed."

“Tell Dad’s attorney, I’d be more than happy to speak at his sentencing.”

It took all the energy I had to keep from jumping up on the table and dancing.  I wasn't happy Dad might get the death penalty; I was thrilled he would finally face the system he worked so hard to manipulate.

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 28
When is Too Much Too Much?

By Sasha

Warning: The author has noted that this contains strong language.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains strong sexual content.

Author's Note:  I made a change in the previous chapter.  James asks Mac to hold off putting anything his mother tells him into the official file.  He does not want his father or his attorney who has access to all evidence, to know what they know.  Mac agrees.
 

* * * * *

I hesitated before opening the door.  Anticipating an unfriendly welcome, I was surprised to find Mom sitting on the couch drinking a cup of coffee.  I glanced around the room and seeing no one else, I realized she was alone.  Curious, I asked, "Where is everyone?"
 
Mom took a sip of coffee and not looking at me, said, "Em and Martin are at the house overseeing the movers.  Charlie's helping them."
 
As though reading my mind, Mom added, "I decided to wait here for you so we could finish our conversation."
 
I couldn't tell if she was serious or being sarcastic.  Dressed in her familiar sophisticated Barbie attire, something Dad would have chosen, I wondered who was sitting there, Mom or the robot.  I chuckled silently, realizing other than a few rare moments since Dad's arrest, the robot was the only Mom I knew.
 
I dropped my backpack onto the floor and slumped down in the chair across from Mom. Not knowing where to begin, I closed my eyes, buried my face in my hands, and tried to focus.  Like a kid playing a game of grab bag, I blurted out the one question lying on top of all the others.  "When and how did you learn about Dad and his sister?"
 
Mom placed her cup on the coffee table, sat up straight, and with her delicate hands folded in her lap, began to tell me what I needed but didn't want to know.
 
"A few months before your grandfather died, your father began acting strange—stranger than usual."

Mom paused as though distracted by the sound of traffic passing on the street below.
 
"For several weeks, he came home every night drunk, angry, and looking for a fight.  The change in his behavior began the day he received two letters."

Again Mom paused, this time stopping when she heard someone walking down the hall outside the room.  She continued when the voices faded.  

"One had no return address and the other was from Mary Louise Mathews; both had a postal stamp indicating they were from Blaine, Washington."
 
"Mom, Mac mentioned Dad's sister's name was Mary Louise, was the letter from her?"
 
"That's what I assumed.  I knew better than to open the letters but couldn't help noticing the one from Mary Louise appeared to be printed by a child.  Foolishly, I asked your father why his sister would be writing to him after so many years of silence.  My question infuriated him.  As you know, he has always been a difficult and demanding man, but until that day, he was never physically violent.  Enraged, he struck me across the face with a closed fist, knocking me to the floor, and began kicking me like a crazed animal.  All the while, screaming 'that bitch was my mother!'  Without any warning, he suddenly started ranting about your grandmother—the woman we thought was your grandmother, saying 'Dad was right to kill her. She was a stupid, weak coward.  She couldn't even protect her own daughter! She got what she deserved.'  Then with a frightening grin he said, 'She's rotting under the outhouse along with the first baby my pathetic sister gave birth to'." 
 
Mom was talking so fast I could hardly keep up.  If I didn't know her better, I would swear she was on speed.  Finally, she paused to catch her breath. 
 
Although hearing the words, I found it difficult to comprehend what she was saying.  Knowing Mom saw a side of Dad none of us had ever seen, I couldn't help asking her why she stayed with him. 
 
Mom looked at me with eyes pleading for forgiveness.  "Fear."
 
"Fear of him beating you again?"
 
"Yes, and also fear of the unknown.  You need to understand, the man standing in front of me was a complete stranger, telling me horrific, unbelievable things about the family that raised him. He terrified me."
 
Unable to wait any longer, I finally asked what I felt was a logical question, "Why did Grandpa kill Grandma—or whoever she was?"

"Your grandmother—sorry, I don't know what else to call her—died before your father was born.  She had to have known he was having an incestuous relationship with Mary Louise.  I can only assume fear of his violent nature prevented her from stopping it.  When Mary Louise became pregnant, your grandfather was thrilled.  He believed his daughter would finally give him the son your grandmother could not. However, the baby was a girl.  He was so angry he immediately took the baby away and no one ever saw her again. When she became pregnant again, he made it very clear this was her last chance to give him the son he wanted. Apparently, convinced he would kill them both, your grandmother finally found the courage to run away with Mary Louise.  But your grandfather caught them.  He killed your grandmother and kept Mary Louise locked in the house until your father was born".
 
Mom took a deep breath. "James, I know this sounds disjointed, but I don't know all the details, just what your dad told me in a drunken stupor."
 
I believed what Mom was telling me but at the same time, it sounded more like a poorly written soap opera destined to gather dust on an out of work writer's stack of rejections.
 
"Mom, when did Dad learn grandpa killed grandma? And, when did he find out his sister was his mother?"
 
"James, you have to remember that your father only spoke about this when he was drunk, which, over the years, became more and more frequent. However, it took a long time for me to put together all the bits and pieces and even now, I fear there is so much more I don't know."
 
Despite wanting to scream, I forced myself to remain outwardly calm. "Just tell me what you know."
 
Mom nodded.  "Whatever your dad knows about his mother—your grandfather's wife—came from his dad. He never knew her. He always thought she had died when he was a baby.  Your grandfather and your dad's sister lived like husband and wife.  She never went to school, wasn't allowed out of his sight, and had no contact with anyone other than your grandfather and your dad.  He beat her daily and carefully groomed your father into believing that women were ignorant and good for only one thing, perpetuating the species.  He raised your dad to view his relationship with his daughter as normal."
 
"But Dad got away.  He went to school and then to college.  At some point he broke free."
 
"That was the one thing your grandfather hadn't counted on.  By allowing your dad to be exposed to the outside world, he realized what everything his father taught him was a lie.  The world wasn't the dark, ugly place your grandfather described, but a place where you could become whatever you wanted."

Although I wasn't so sure about the world not being dark and ugly, I kept my opinion to myself.
 
"One day he confronted his dad and they had a violent argument. That is when his father told him he murdered the woman supposed to be his mother and that his sister was his mother.  I don't know why he told him, maybe he thought he could frighten or shame your dad into staying.  It had the opposite effect.
 
However, despite walking away and never going back, the damage had been done.  Just like his father, your dad viewed women as weak and pathetic. What little compassion he felt for his sister completely disappeared.  Women were stupid and needed constant guidance to prevent them from getting into what he called 'trouble'."
 
Mom's face suddenly turned pale and her bottom lip began to quiver. She opened her purse, pulled out two slightly yellowed envelopes and handed them to me.  "Your father tossed these into the garbage the day they arrived.  He doesn't know I kept them."
 
Holding the envelopes in my hands, I felt my heart begin to race.  I was the one that insisted on knowing everything.  I demanded to know the truth.  There was no turning back now.  As I opened the letter from Mary Louise, Mom and Mac's words echoed inside my head, "Some things are best left alone…."

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye. This may be a bit confusing, any and all suggestions will be greatly appreciated.

Chapter 29
Time For The Truth

By Sasha

I left Mac and Mr. Hurley at the restaurant.  As I walked back to the hotel, the high I was riding slowly descended into hell.  I realized that Mom and Aunt Em knew part of Dad’s dirty little secret, but not the whole story.  Clearly, Uncle Terry didn’t know anything.  The idea of telling Charlie and Susan made me sick to my stomach.  Susan was in no condition to deal with something so horrific, and I doubted Charlie was strong enough to hear his father’s mother was also his sister and that his grandfather was a sick, pathetic lunatic capable of kidnapping, murder, and rape.
 
I suddenly noticed it had begun to rain.  It started as a light mist then large, heavy pellets began to dance as they bounced off the cars, sidewalk and the street.  I sat on a bench in front of the hotel.  The water felt soothing, like a long overdue cleansing.  I don’t know how long I sat there before finally getting up and going inside the hotel.  I entered the elevator, pressed the button to my floor, and when the doors finally opened, I stepped out leaving a large puddle of water inside the elevator.  As I slid the key card through the slot, I realized it would be better if Charlie and Uncle Terry learned about Dad’s father and the journal from me than from the media. 
 
 
* * * * * * * * *
 
Charlie took the news far better than I expected.  His primary concern was whether his children would be born with six fingers and webbed feet.  I assured him that only repeated inbreeding caused birth defects, and none of us has anything to worry about.
Knowing Mom did not speak Romani, I asked Aunt Em how Mom knew about Dad’s mother being his sister.  Aunt Em stammered and stuttered for several seconds before answering my question.
“Your father was drunk, as usual, and he told Martha about his mother just to upset her.  To be honest, I thought he was just being cruel, but Martha knew he was telling her the truth.  After he died and the journal mysteriously appeared, we both knew it had to contain information about your Dad’s mother and his father.”
“Aunt Em, why didn’t you tell anyone about the journal after Dad was arrested?”
“Neither Martha nor I wanted anyone to know about his mother.  You can’t imagine… Knowing John was a murderer was distressing enough.  We just figured no one needed to know about his mother.  I’m sorry, James.  I know we should have said something sooner.”
I was too tired to be angry.  Tomorrow was going to be a big day.  I still couldn’t figure out why Dad would ask me to speak on his behalf.  I planned to go to the sentencing, but I doubted he would like what I had to say.
* * * * * * * * *
 
Aunt Em and Charlie went to bed early.  I was exhausted but knew I wasn’t going to get much sleep.  Uncle Terry stayed up with me.  We sat on the balcony and watched the sunset in silence.  Uncle Terry looked at me with concern in his eyes. "James, I'm worried about you. You are so focused on making things right, I'm afraid you are going to end up in the hospital along with Susan and your mother. I wish you would reconsider going to the sentencing."
 
I understood Uncle Terry's concern, but I had made my decision, and there was nothing he or anyone could say to talk me out of it. "I don't know how to explain it, but this is something I have to do."
 
Uncle Terry shook his head. "I am worried about the families' reaction to seeing you there. Some of them are not going to like you getting any attention, no matter what you have to say. This is their day. It is the only time they get to speak for the victim."
 
"Of course it is their day. I'm sure I'm the last person they want to see or listen to. However, it is my day too. I am not planning to speak for Mom, Susan, Charlie, Aunt Em, or you. I'm still not sure what I am going to say, but I have to face him. I want him to see me there, and I want him to know how I feel."
 
I didn't know how to put into words the desperate need I had to speak my mind. I felt if I didn't say something I was going to explode into a million tiny pieces and no one would ever be able to put me back together again.
 
Uncle Terry nodded. I doubted he understood, but he appeared to accept this was something that I had to do. He patted me on the knee then said, "When all this is over, whenever that is, would you, Martha, Susan, and Charlie consider moving to Miami and live with your Aunt Em and me?"
 
I couldn't speak for Mom, Susan or Charlie, but I knew at some point leaving Seattle was inevitable. I couldn't imagine continuing to live here with the legacy the man I once called Dad had left us. I smiled at Uncle Terry. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it."

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 29
James Pauses To Take a Breath

By Sasha

DO NOT READ.  CHAPTERS 29 THROUGH 33 HAVE NOT BEEN REWRITTEN YET.

A slimy, wet blanket of nauseating disgust clung to me like a horrific nightmare too heavy to remove.  Not ready to delve deeper into the sick, depraved world of the Mathews' family, I placed the letters on the coffee table.  I glanced at Mom who, to my relief, had drifted off into La la Land, the place she often hid when reality overwhelmed her.  I needed time, lots of time, to sort out and absorb what she had just told me. I didn't know what to feel; I was numb.
 
I tried to tell myself Mom was mistaken and Dad's drunken ramblings were nothing more than the sick delusions of an alcoholic.  But knowing he was sitting in prison guilty of brutally murdering twelve innocent girls, and the very real possibility there was a thirteenth victim, erased the one glimmer of hope I was grasping for.
 
Without faces, the people Mom was talking about seemed unreal, just a story, a horrible, ugly story.  On the surface, Dad appeared to everyone who knew him, as perfectly normal.  However, reality proved he was his father's creation. Years of meticulous grooming turned him into a monster.  Comprehending the horrors his sister, my grandmother, was subjected to, was way beyond my capability.
 
I desperately wanted to understand. I searched for the sympathy and compassion my brain told me he deserved, but my heart wanted none of it.  There was nothing in Dad's past that could ever excuse what he did.  I doubted the families of his victims would shed a single tear for him or his pathetic childhood.
 
I got up and walked past Mom, still safely ensconced in her private world, and went into the bathroom.  As I removed my clothes, I looked at myself in the mirror.  Shocked by what I saw, I asked out loud, "When did I get so old?"
 
I stepped into the shower, placed both hands against the wall beneath the showerhead, and closed my eyes.  I felt a lump begin to swell in my throat.  I tipped my head up and back, letting the water wash away the tears now streaming down my cheeks.  I reached for the bar of soap lying on the edge of the bathtub.  As I held it under the water, I doubted I would ever be able to wash away the thick layer of filth that was choking the life out of me.  I couldn't imagine ever again smiling at a beautiful sunset, appreciating the fresh, clean smell of the ocean, or laughing at a silly joke.
 
As my hatred for Dad grew, so did my fear that my life would never be the same.  I realized for the first time the word normal had never been, and probably never would be a word I could relate to.

I dropped the soap, sat down, and buried my head in my hands.  The lump in my throat made it difficult to breathe.  Slowly, the sobs I tried to ignore erupted in the form of a loud wail.  I don't know how long I cried, but I stayed in the shower long after the water turned cold.

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye.

Chapter 30
Confidentiality or Conscience

By Sasha

Not yet ready to read the letters, my hand trembled ever so slightly as I placed them into my backpack. The gentle rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.  Huge, dark clouds hovered ominously over the horizon signaling the approaching storm.  I grabbed my parka and quickly slipped it on.
 
Mom lay asleep on the couch curled up like a baby.  Careful not to wake her, I bent down, kissed her gently on the cheek, and whispered, "I'll be back later."   At moments like this I envied her ability to shut down after a stressful experience, something I had never mastered.
 
As the elevator descended, I glanced at my watch; it was three-fifteen, plenty of time before my meeting with Mr. Hurley. He knew something but the attorney client privilege he was bound to prevented him from telling me anything.  It was not going to be easy, but I had to find a way to get him to talk to me.
 
I arrived at his office twenty minutes early.  A wave of relief swept over me finding the door locked and the light inside his office turned off.  I sat on the floor, my knees touching my chest, and my head resting against the wall.  My brain, always in fourth gear, raced from thought to thought searching for what I could say to make Mr. Hurley open up to me.  Forty-five minutes later, I heard the elevator door open and a grey-haired, chunky man stepped into the hallway.  I stood up and watched as he waddled toward me holding his brief case in one hand and a large stack of manila folders in the other.  Without bothering to say hello, he handed me the folders in order to free up his hand so he could insert the key into the lock.
 
Inside, he plopped his briefcase onto the desk and I did the same with the folders.  He pointed to a chair silently telling me to have a seat. After removing his coat he sat down, and with his arms crossed, smiled and said, "James, I can tell just by looking at you, you are a man on a mission. Let's dispense with pointless chit chat and get directly to why you are here."
 
I chuckled; in one fell swoop, he eliminated three-quarters of my carefully planned speech.  I liked Mr. Hurley and his no nonsense approach eased the anxiety I felt over what I was going to say.
 
"I assume you heard about the cabin?"
 
Mr. Hurly nodded.  "Who hasn't?"
 
"You're a criminal attorney; can you tell me why Dad would be so stupid to leave so much evidence at the cabin?  He had to know he would be the number one suspect.  Even if they never find the body, it is obvious to the forensic specialists a homicide occurred."
 
"James, murder is committed for a variety of reasons.  The most common are jealousy fueled by anger and revenge.  Panic and fear are often the motivation as well as simply overreaction to what most view as a situation out of control. The people who fall into these categories are usually the ones who allow their emotions to override common sense.  Men like your father are complicated but all have one thing in common—arrogance.  They do not believe they will ever get caught. Their reasons for killing are not viewed by the public as logical.  Some can relate to a moment of uncontrollable rage but serial killers are beyond the understanding of  the average person.  To kill for the sake of killing is incomprehensible to people like you and me."

"So you are saying that arrogance is why he was so sloppy?"

Mr. Hurley smiled, but did not answer.
 
"If you have any information that would help find any yet unidentified victims of  Dad, you have an obligation to tell the authorities."
 
"James, you know I am bound by attorney client privilege and cannot tell anyone anything I know about this case prior to becoming your family's attorney."
 
"Just tell me what you know.  I won't tell anyone I got the information from you."
 
Mr. Hurley shook his head.  "Sorry, but that just isn't how it works."
 
Not ready to give up, I reached into my backpack, removed the two letters, and placed them on the desk in front of Mr. Hurley. "How about a trade, I show you the letters my dad didn't want anyone to see and you tell me what you know?" 
 
Mr. Hurley stared at the letters but despite his obvious curiosity, he again shook his head.
 
"Has it occurred to you that I may well already know what you are hiding?  If I do, then you aren't breaking any laws, right?"
 
Mr. Hurley smiled.  "It doesn't matter what you know, I still cannot confirm or deny it if it contains information I obtained prior to becoming your attorney."
 
I was losing my patience.  "Would you consider lying?"
 
Not sure what I was proposing, Mr. Hurley scratched his head then asked, "You want me to lie about what your father said?"
 
I burst into laughter.  "No, I want you to lie about telling me what he said.  I find it hard to believe that being a lawyer you have never lied before."
 
Mr. Hurley smiled. "You really know how to sweet talk a guy, don't you?  Tell me what you know and I'll consider your proposal."
 
I wasn't completely convinced he was going along with my proposition, but I really didn't have much choice. "Did you know Dad claims his father killed my supposed grandmother?  Did you know my aunt, Dad's sister was or is my real grandmother?"
 
Mr. Hurley didn't flinch.  The unchanged expression on his face told me what he wouldn't or couldn't say out loud. "Apparently, Dad's childhood was horrific.  His father was a monster.  Dad told Mom Aunt Louise gave birth to a daughter and grandpa buried the baby either under or near the outhouse. Sometime after, he is supposed to have killed Grandma when she tried to run away with Aunt Louise.  Dad said she's buried in the same place."
 
Mr. Hurley didn't question anything I said.  It was clear, he already knew.  However, hearing it from me opened up a door that until now had been locked to him.   In a voice filled with obvious relief, he asked, "Have you told any of this to Mac?"
 
"No, I thought you could earn the hefty fee Mom's paying you and tell him for me.  And you won't even have to lie when you say you got the information from me."
 
Mr. Hurley smiled.  He looked like the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. 
 
"I do have one question that I want you to answer.  Why did Dad tell his attorney about Grandpa and Aunt Louise?"
 
Apparently, the attorney client privilege no longer mattered.  "Shame.  He would rather be known as a sick serial killer than have anyone find out that his mother was really his sister."
 
"But Mom knew, he told her."
 
"Your father is convinced she is still under his control."
 
Mr. Hurley reached over and picked up the letters.  "Have your read these?"
 
I shook my head. 
 
"Well, I guess it's time we find out what your father didn't want anyone to know."

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye.

Chapter 30
Court Part 1

By Sasha

Choosing to wear a new pair of black slacks, a white shirt, and no tie seemed more appropriate than the formality of a suit. I hugged Charlie and Aunt Em and waved goodbye to Uncle Terry. I was relieved neither felt the need to remind me of their desire that I not go to the sentencing.
 

 
The walk from the hotel to the courthouse took less than ten minutes. I paused at the corner across the street when I saw the large crowd of spectators and television reporters gathered on the front steps. The knot in my stomach tightened knowing someone in the crowd might recognize me turning what I hoped to be a quiet, unnoticed entry into a reporter's wet dream. For a brief moment, I considered leaving, but my determination to be strong despite my growing anxiety outweighed my fear. I took a deep breath, stepped off the curb, and crossed the street.
 
Before I reached the first step, "There he is!" rang out from the center of the crowd. The feeding frenzy had begun. Questions flew at me like well-aimed bullets as cameras flashed and reporters shoved microphones into my face.
 
"Are you here to support your father?" "How does it feel to be the son of a murderer?" "Do you think he should have gotten the death penalty?" And, "Where is the rest of your family?"
 
I ignored the questions and pushed my way through the unruly crowd. As I entered the front door, I felt a terrible and frightening sense of being alone. I emptied my pockets into the plastic container placed on the conveyor belt that sat directly in front of the door, and patiently waited for the officer to tell me to pass through the metal detector. Although no bells went off, another officer asked me to step to the side as she scanned me with a hand-held wand. Finally, allowed to continue, I walked down the wide hallway toward the elevators where I found another large crowd gathered. I looked at each face, wondering if he or she was a family member of one of the victims or just someone here to pay a parking ticket.
 
Suddenly a loud voice silenced the crowd. "If you are here for the John Mathews case, please show me your official court notice to appear and proper identification. You will not be allowed to enter the courtroom without these items."
 
Angry moans echoed around me as at least thirty people turned and walked away, approximately twenty remained.  I pulled out my wallet and found my driver's license and permission slip.  One by one, we entered the elevator as the officer meticulously scrutinized everyone's identification, comparing the name to the one on the court order, and finally checking the name off a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard. No one spoke as the elevator rose, nonstop, to the eleventh floor. When the doors opened, I was surprised to see an even larger crowd in the hallway waiting to enter the courtroom. 
 
I glanced to my left and noticed a silver-haired gentleman staring at me.  He whispered into a woman's ear at his side.  She turned to her neighbor and pointed in my direction.  Her lips were pulled into a sneer of red across her flawless skin.  "Look, it's the murderer's son". 
A collective gasp rose from the crowd as they shuffled to the opposite side of the hall. My heart pounded frantically against my rib cage.  My greatest wish at that moment was to become invisible.
 
While scanning the crowd, my eyes came to rest on an older woman standing off to the side. I immediately recognize her, but unlike so many around her, she did not look at me with either hatred or anger. There was deep sadness in her gray-blue eyes. Dressed in a soft pastel blue suit combined with her silver-white hair, pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck gave her an air of quiet elegance. She stared at me for a moment, and then slowly walked toward me.
 
Not knowing what to expect, my heart began to race. Anticipating an angry outburst, I told myself to remain calm and no matter what she said, to say nothing that would upset her further.
 
With a forced smile, the woman took hold of my hand and gently stroked it. "Hello James. I am sure you don't remember me, I am Alicia’s grandmother."
 
My heart sank. I wanted to fall to my knees and beg her to forgive me for what happened to Alicia. Suddenly I realized she probably did not know her body had been identified, or that the prosecutor was going to announce the indictment immediately after the sentencing. Confused, I wondered why she was here. I was under the impression that only the victims' family members were permitted to attend the sentencing.
 
As though she had read my mind, she leaned forward and whispered into my ear, "He thinks he got away with it. But we know better, don't we. Because Alicia’s mother and father couldn't face the man who killed her, I felt I needed to represent her here today."
 
She gave me a soft kiss on the cheek, wiped the tears from her eyes, and turned and walked away. I realized the prosecutor wanted her here when he spoke to the media. He needed to put a face to the victim, who better than a grieving grandmother.
 
A firm tap on my shoulder startled me. I turned abruptly, expecting to face an angry family member, but I was relieved to see Mac and Mr. Hurley standing next to me.
 
Mac smiled. "We thought you could use a little moral support."
 
Unable to contain my relief seeing two friendly faces, I gave Mac and Mr. Hurley a gigantic hug. "Thank you. You don't know how much it means to me to have you here."
 
Suddenly two King County Sheriff's officers opened the double doors to the courtroom. Once again, each person was asked to show identification, his or her notice to appear, and scanned a second time with a hand wand. They were clearly serious about safeguarding their prisoner.
 
Mac, Mr. Hurley and I intentionally waited until last to enter the courtroom. All the seats were taken causing a large number of people, including us, to stand against the back wall. The prosecutor was standing at the front, in the center of the room, talking to the clerk. Behind him was a small wooden podium with a microphone attached to the side. I presumed that was where those choosing to speak would stand. Lining both sides of the room were several television cameras pointed at the closed door on the left side of the room hoping to get a clear, unobstructed view of the prisoner when he entered. Mr. Ross, the defense attorney, sat staring forward, with his hands resting in his lap, a large yellow pad of paper, and two pens lay on the table in front of him.
 
Without warning, the door opened, and a man I barely recognized entered the room. Two Sheriffs' deputies firmly holding each arm walked him over to the table before removing his handcuffs.  I couldn't take my eyes off him. Despite wearing an expensive suit, sporting a clean shave, and recent haircut, he looked ten years older. I closed my eyes and tried to remember him the way he looked just a few months ago, but my mind was blank. Everything about him reeked of evil.  His dead eyes, his smug facial expression, his arrogant posture, even his large, ugly hands made me sick to my stomach knowing what they had done.
 
The door to the Judge's chamber opened. The bailiff stood and facing the audience, said in a loud voice, “All rise, court is now in session."

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him. Free to pass go card is a card used in the game Monopoly...sort of a free pass. I'm off sightseeing today...a long overdue break. Won't be able to correct any spags &and sadly, there are always some) until I get back.

Chapter 31
Getting to Know Mr. Hurley

By Sasha

Mr. Hurley hung up the phone and wearing a 'we're in this together' grin said, "Mac will be here in twenty minutes.  He told us to wait before reading the letters."
 
I knew Mac would have to be told everything, but I had not anticipated being in the room when Mr. Hurley told him.  I hadn't thought about it before, but Mac and Mr. Hurley's relationship seemed to go beyond the professional.  With a few minutes to kill, I decided to pursue my curiosity.  "Mac told me you two go back a long way.  How did you meet?"
 
Mr. Hurley leaned back in his chair, bowed his head, and hesitated several very long, uncomfortable seconds before finally answering.  I knew immediately I had touched on a subject probably best left alone and regretted my foolish attempt at small talk.
 
"Mac and I met under awkward circumstances.  I was representing a young boy he arrested for murdering his girlfriend and her entire family; including their nine-month old baby.  The case against him was shaky, no weapon, no witnesses, just a lot of circumstantial evidence.  Jurors have grown up on CSI and forensic science. They like solid evidence they can neatly fit together like a puzzle, leaving no room for doubt."
 
Mr. Hurley's voice faded into silence.  Clearly deep into his thoughts, I waited a few moments before disturbing him.  "Did you win the case?"
 
He took a deep breath then slowly exhaled before responding.  "That depends on your definition of winning."
 
Not sure where this was leading, I pushed a little harder.  "Don't you mean it depends on 'your' definition of winning?"
 
Mr. Hurley smiled.  "The boy was your age.  However, unlike you, he was a crack addict, drug dealer, and had a long history of violence.  Knowing I could not repeat anything he told me, he found it amusing to brag about the two other murders he committed and even told me where he hid the gun.  He wasn't too smart.  Instead of tossing the gun, the fool kept it, claiming it brought him good luck."
 
Mr. Hurley stood up and walked over to the small refrigerator next to the row of four large file cabinets against the wall. He looked at me and asked, "Do you want a beer?"
 
I shook my head. " No thanks, I have an ulcer."
 
He laughed.  "Me too."
 
Holding the can in one hand, he sat down and as though there had been no pause in the conversation, he continued.  "A good attorney always puts his client's interest first.  Innocence or guilt only determines courtroom tactics. A smart attorney never asks his client if he or she is innocent or guilty because he knows it could lead to subordination of  perjury; an attorney cannot knowingly allow a witness or client to lie on the stand.  Ignorance provides us the necessary means to a clear conscience when presenting our clients as innocent.
 
"My client was an idiot.  He placed me in an unbearable position.  Knowing his propensity for violence I was convinced if found not guilty, it would only be a matter of time before he killed again."
 
Although I felt I knew the answer, I had to ask, "What did you do?"
 
"Mac is an excellent detective and he covered my potentially career ending indiscretion flawlessly.  No one ever knew the part I played in how he located the gun.  They not only matched it to the bullets used to kill my client's girlfriend and family, they were also able to match it to two unsolved murders."

He paused a moment, then added, "Did I win the case?  Yeah, I won it."
 
I doubted my opinion mattered, but I felt the need to say, "You did the right thing."
 
"That's exactly what Mac said."
 
The expression on Mr. Hurley's face was a combination of shame and guilt. Curious, I asked, "Why did you tell me this?"
 
He smiled again.  "James, you and I have a lot in common.  We both believe in the law and want justice to be served.  We also believe that sometimes the only way to achieve this is to occasionally bend the law."

I agreed completely.
 
Without warning, the door opened and Mac walked in with a big smile on his face. "I hope neither of you have plans for dinner, because you may have a lot to tell me, but I also have a lot to tell you."

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye. Yes, this is a short chapter. But I promise, you will learn what is in the letters in the next chapter!

Chapter 31
Court Part 2

By Sasha

The adrenaline raging throughout my entire body prevented me from hearing Judge Simmons address the spectators. The pounding of my heart inside my chest was so loud his words became unintelligible mumbling. Only when the defendant stood up was I able to calm down enough to focus on what was happening.
 
From where I stood, I could only see his profile. Despite trying, I was still not able to recognize the man I was sure every eye in the room was fixed on. He stood silently staring at the floor. The blank expression on his face hid any sign of remorse or guilt. I had seen storefront mannequins that showed more emotion than he did. Only when the Judge spoke did he finally lift his eyes.
 
"John Martin Mathews, you are charged with twelve counts of murder in the first degree. Are you aware that by pleading guilty, you are bound by the court's ruling today and forfeit all rights to appeal?"
 
Although the defendant remained expressionless, his voice trembled with the sound of unexpected fear when he said, "Yes, your honor."

The prosecutor stood up and walked over to a large aluminum easel positioned in the front of the court. On the floor, leaning against the easel I could see what appeared to be a large stack of white cardboard. When Judge Simmons began to speak, Mr. Douglas picked up the top sheet of cardboard, turned it over, and placed it on the easel. It was a photograph one of the victims.
 
"Mr. Mathews, count one reads as follows: In King County, Washington, sometime between June 5, 2007 and June 7, 2007, with premeditated intent to cause her death, You, John Martin Mathews stabbed and strangled Elsa May Loft, age sixteen, to death. You picked her up on her way home from school, planning to kill her. After killing her, you placed her body in the trunk of your car and drove to Belltown where you left her body next to a dumpster located behind a convenience store on Southeast Brighton Street around two p.m."
 
The silence in the courtroom was unnerving. Unable to take my eyes off the photograph staring at me, I felt her hand reach into my chest and squeeze my heart. The Judge stared at the defendant for several seconds before asking, "Mr. Mathews, is that a true statement?"
 
His voice still trembling, the defendant responded.  "Yes, your honor."
 
"How do you plead to charge one, murder in the first degree of Elsa May Loft?"
 
Staring down at his feet, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "Guilty, your honor."
 
The heartbreaking sound of sobbing floated up over the courtroom.
 
Mr. Douglas picked up another photograph and placed it on the easel.
 
"Mr. Mathews, count two reads as follows: In King County, Washington, sometime between August 9, 2007 and August 12, 2007 with premeditated intent to cause her death, You, John Martin Mathews stabbed and strangled Sharon Allison Evens, age fifteen, to death. You picked her up on her way home from church, planning to kill her."
 
Desperately fighting the urge to cry, I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and silently said the Lord's Prayer, hoping the words in my head would block out the sound of the Judge's voice.
 
When asked if this statement was true, the answer was again yes.
 
"How do you plead to charge two, murder in the first degree of Sharon Allison Evens?"
 
"Guilty, your honor."
 
The sight of tears streaming down his face angered me. I knew in my heart that they were not tears of remorse. I had no doubt they were nothing more than self-pity. How pathetic. What was it about people like him? They can commit the most horrendous crimes then, when facing judgment, have the audacity to cry.
 
As the Judge read each count of the ten remaining charges, the prosecutor placed the victim's photograph on the easel. The questions, "Is this statement true?" and "How do you plead?" received ten tearful yes and guilty responses. I wondered if I was the only one who noticed that he refused to look at a single photograph. Although the process seemed to take hours, time also flew by so quickly that I was not prepared when the Judge asked the defendant if he had anything to say before pronouncing sentence.
 
Glancing over at Mr. Ross then back to the Judge the defendant nodded. "Yes, your honor. I have a prepared statement I would like to read."
 
I felt a cold shiver run up my spine. Mac must have sensed my nervousness. He placed his hand on my shoulder and whispered into my ear, "Do you think anyone would care if I pulled my gun and shot him in the foot?"
 
Completely unprepared for Mac's absurd comment, I found myself choking on the giant, inappropriate ball of laughter suddenly stuck in my throat. 
 
I leaned back against the wall and returned my focus to what was going on in front of the court. Mr. Rosshanded his client a folded sheet of paper. With both hands shaking, he opened the paper and began to read it aloud.
 
"I know there is nothing I can say that will ever take the pain I have caused away.”
 
In an unsympathetic and sarcastic tone, Judge Simmons abruptly interrupted, "Mr. Mathews, It would be more appropriate if you turned to face the families your cruel and sadistic actions have affected."
 
With his hands still shaking and tears staining his face, he turned to face the courtroom, and began again. "I know there is nothing I can say that will ever erase the pain I have caused all of you. I hope…" He paused again as he tried to swallow the sobs preventing him from speaking. Mr. Ross handed him a handkerchief. After wiping the tears from his face, he took a deep breath and continued, "I hope you believe me when I say I am sorry for what I have done."
 
He paused a third time to catch his breath and wipe more tears from his face. "I also hope someday you can find it in your hearts to forgive me."
 
He dropped the paper, buried his face in his hands, and began to sob uncontrollably. I was shocked. Was that all he had to say?  Did he actually think those few pathetic sentences would console the families he had devastated? Saying nothing would have been kinder. 
 
Obviously unmoved by his feeble excuse for an apology, the judge tapped his gavel several times, and in a voice filled with disdain said, "Save your tears for someone else, Mr. Mathews."

Pausing to pick up a piece of paper, he stared at the spectators for a moment, and then turned to look at the defendant.   
 
"In my twenty years as a judge, I have never had a more despicable man stand before me in this court. Mr. Mathews, you are beyond evil. It is my opinion you are the devil incarnate. Were it within my power, I would not hesitate to sentence you to death for your crimes. However, I am bound by law to honor your plea agreement."
 
Judge Simmons cleared his throat before proceeding, "John Martin Mathews, this court finds you guilty of twelve counts of premeditated murder of Elsa May Loft, Sharon Allison Evens, Ursula Teresa Young, Catherine Tori O'Brien, Holly Evelyn Uhlman, Georgia Rita Anderson, Rosa Tatiana Romero, Ellen Holly Everest, Angel Antonia Anderson, Tonya Nancy Holden, Francis Yolanda Eden, and Una Olga Aasland."
 
Judge Simmons stopped abruptly after speaking the last name.  He looked at the defendant with nothing less than hatred he continued. "Despite how disturbing this may be to me as well as hundreds of angry citizens, who sent this court letters expressing their displeasure over someone like you, and I am quoting here, "getting away with murder", I sentence you to twelve consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole. You will immediately begin serving your sentence at the conclusion of today's proceeding at the Washington State Prison located in Walla Walla, Washington."

The defendant's entire body trembled violently as he stood with his head bowed. The heart wrenching sobs coming from the spectators, Mac, Mr. Hurley and me drowned out the sound of his pathetic blubbering.   

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him. When a plea agreement is agreed upon, the District Attorney, Defense Attorney, Defendant and the Judge must sign off on it. This is often done in chambers prior to the sentencing. There are rare occasions when even after signing off on the agreement, a judge can and has decided to void the agreement. Example: Daniel Keyser plea agreement denied by judge, Pacific County Courthouse, South Bend, Wa. 2011. Reasons vary, but the most common is that the defendant did not comply with his portion of the agreement. Despite knowing the defendant, John Mathews did not comply with his agreement, the District Attorney chose not to ask the judge to void the agreement. The reason will be explained later.

Chapter 32
An Unexpected U-Turn

By Sasha

 
Please note I have made a few changes in previous chapters.   Because of her husband's violent reaction when questioned about the letter from his father, James's mother never gave him the letter from Louise.  Although she kept both letters, she never read them.
 
* * * * * * *
 
Mr. Hurley offered Mac a beer.  I settled for a glass of ice water hoping it would put out the anxiety-induced fire raging in my stomach; it didn't.  I impatiently waited to get down to the business of reading the letters but was forced to watch two grown men exchange pleasantries like long-lost friends that hadn't seen each other for years.
 
Convinced both had forgotten I was in the room, I tapped Mac on the shoulder and in an intentionally sarcastic tone, asked, "If I figure out the secret hand shake, can I join your little club?"
 
Mac laughed.  "Sorry, James, it's been a long day and I'm afraid it's going to get a whole lot longer."
 
I assumed he was referring to the letters but the serious expression on his face told me he had more on his mind than the two envelopes lying on the desk.
 
He sat down beside me and spoke in a noticeably official voice.  "James, I cannot emphasize enough how important it is that you understand that what I am about to tell you must stay here in this room."
 
"You mean like what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?"  My attempt at humor was not well received.
 
"Damn it, James.  I am serious.  If anyone and I do mean anyone, knew I was discussing classified information with you, it could potentially blow the case we are trying to build against your father, out of the water."
 
Clearly the time for jokes and sarcasm had passed.  I nodded, indicating I understood.  For the first time, I noticed Mac's disheveled appearance.  The circles under his eyes, his unshaven face, and his rumpled suit told me he either slept in his clothes or had been up all night.  Realizing the letters would have to wait, I sat annoyed, but quietly waiting to hear what Mac had to say.
 
"Whatcom County Police discovered three skeletons on your grandfather's property in Blaine.  Although they have not yet been identified, we are fairly confident one is your grandmother and the other is your aunt.  The third skeleton is that of an infant, most likely a newborn."
 
Hearing his words, my heart began to race, pumping so much adrenaline throughout my body I thought I would pass out.  I gripped the armrest on my chair so hard, my fingers tuned white.  Knowing I wanted to tell Mac what I knew, Mr. Hurley placed his hand on mine and shook his head.
 
Beginning to sound like a robot, Mac continued.  "They are running DNA tests on all three skeletons, but we have requested a forensic anthropologist from the FBI to determine the cause of death and hopefully help with the identifications.
 
"We have also obtained a court order to exhume your grandfather.  While we have no evidence to suggest foul play, we learned he was buried without the required autopsy.  I don't know what light this will shed on the case, but we can't leave any stone unturned."
 
Mac stood up and walked over to the refrigerator.  He grabbed a second beer. "Tom, do you want one?"  Mr. Hurley shook his head.
 
Mac sat down and placed his unopened beer on the desk.  "Last but not least, Snohomish County has officially confirmed through DNA that the blood in the cabin belongs to Mary Ellen."
 
No longer able to remain silent, I ignored Mr. Hurley and asked, "Is that enough to charge Dad with murder?"
 
Mack shrugged.  "Charging anyone with murder without a body is usually impossible.  However, with his fingerprints on the plastic bag containing jewelry positively identified as belonging to Mary Ellen combined with the DNA evidence, they have a pretty strong circumstantial case.  The prosecutor hasn't made an official statement, but he plans to file charges, probably the day your Dad is sentenced in King County for the Belltown murders."
 
"Will they go for the death penalty?"
 
"Under normal circumstances, I'd have to say no. However, because they will be allowed to use your father's guilty plea in King County as evidence of a continuous pattern of criminal activity, I am sure they will ask for the death penalty."
 
I knew I should feel sad hearing Dad could be put to death, but I didn't.  In theory, I had always been against the death penalty.  But what angered me the most was knowing he manipulated the system by using six of his victims to avoid facing a jury.  I seriously doubted Snohomish County would take the chance of incurring the wrath of an angry public by offering him a plea bargain. Even if he decided to plead guilty to the murder of Mary Ellen, the death penalty would surely stay on the table.
 
Mac looked exhausted.  He pulled out two surgical gloves from his coat pocket and put them on.  As much as I wanted to know what the letters said, I felt it was important to tell Mac what I knew first.  Again, reading my mind, Mr. Hurley finally nodded.
 
Taking my time and making sure not to leave anything out, I filled Mac in on what Mom had told me.  As I spoke, I watched intensely as the expression on Mac's face changed from surprise, to curiosity, to 'I already knew that', and back again to surprise.  What Mac said next knocked the wind out of me.
 
"That may explain who the three skeletons belong to, but I doubt anything your father told your mother can be used as evidence in a court of law."
 
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "What the hell are you talking about?"
 
Mr. Hurley leaned forward and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Spousal privilege cannot be violated.  Not only that, his attorney could claim everything he said was just the ramblings of a man under the influence of alcohol."
 
"That's absurd."
 
Mr. Hurley shook his head.  "No, James, that's the law."
 
Angry, dumbfounded, and speechless, I sat silently as Mac placed two large plastic bags on the desk next to the two envelopes.  He picked up the envelope from Grandpa first. Holding it in his hands, he read the date and origin of the postal stamp out loud.  "Blaine, Washington, April 3, 2002."
 
An icy shiver raced up my spine knowing I was only nine years old in 2002. The Belltown Murders began five years ago and the homicide at the cabin was less than two years ago.  My burning gut told me Dad's killing spree did not begin in Belltown.  I prayed I was wrong.
 
Mac carefully removed the crudely folded sheet of paper from the envelope, laid it on the desk so we could all see it.  My heart was racing again as Mac began to read the letter out loud.
 

My Dear Son,
 
Over the past twenty years, I have written you several letters, but you have chosen not to answer any of them.  This has both hurt and angered me.
 
I am sure this letter will finally get your long overdue attention.
 
When you left, I told you it wouldn't matter how far you ran or how hard you tried to hide, I would always find you.  I also told you the day would come when I would make sure you regretted turning your back on me.
 
I am so pleased to tell you, your day of reckoning has arrived.
 
Do you remember those fun weekend hunting trips we went on?  Do you remember how much you liked to take your time with the pretty, young ones with long hair?  In case you have forgotten, you will be happy to know I kept a written record, meticulously documenting every luscious and tantalizing detail of each and every one of our kills. I've included a detailed map of where we buried every skeleton.
 
Do I have your attention now?
 
I have instructed your dear, sweet, obedient, but stupid sister and mother, to give this information to the police should anything happen to me.
 
Why don't you come home for a visit and we can reminisce over the good old days.
 
Just remember, I brought you into this world, and I will decide how you will be remembered when you leave it.  I never believed in God or Heaven, but I have made damn sure you and I will meet again in Hell.
 
Your loving father,
 
XXX
 
P.S.  Give my love to Martha and the kids.  By the way, it is amazing how much Susan looks like Louise when she was seven.  I am sure she will be a knockout in ten years.

 
 
Mac folded the letter, placed it back into the envelope, opened the plastic bag, and dropped it inside.  He put the bag on the desk, slumped in his chair, closed his eyes, and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.  "Why in the name of God would your grandfather send this to your dad?  Why would he intentionally provoke him?"
 
All I could think of to say was, "Arrogance breeds arrogance.  I think he planned to kill Dad.  I'll lay ten-to-one odds that Dad killed him."
 
I paused, and then added, "I bet he killed Aunt Louise too."
 
The three of us sat stunned for several minutes.  Finally, Mac broke the silence.  "Do you honestly believe your mother never read this?"
 
I understood Mac's doubt.  But I knew Mom.  She was the Queen of denial. She believed that if you ignore something long enough, it would eventually go away.  "You'll just have to take my word for it, Mac.  Mom never read the letter."
 
I pointed to the letter from Aunt Louise.  "As you can see, that one has not been opened."
 
Mac picked up the unopened letter and placed it into the second plastic bag.
 
Shocked, I yelled, "What the hell are you doing?  Aren't you going to read it?"
 
Mac shook his head.  "Not before forensics goes over it. Both letters need to be tested for fingerprints, looked at by a handwriting specialist, and hopefully they'll find some DNA."
 
Mac could see my frustration. "Listen, James, this is more than a smoking gun.  Just your grandfather's letter alone changes the direction of this entire case.  I know how you feel.  You feel you're in a car moving at a hundred miles an hour and suddenly forced to make a u-turn without slowing down."
 
Mac was wrong.  I felt like I had just slammed into a brick wall.

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye. I know what I am trying to say but I am not sure if I have conveyed it clearly. Any and all suggestions are welcome.

Chapter 32
Court Part 3

By Sasha

The closure I hoped today's proceeding would provide had not yet appeared. I stood staring at the pathetic little man who destroyed the lives of those left to mourn the death of their loved ones. The realization there was nothing I could say that would ever take away their pain was heartbreaking. The feeling of helplessness fueled the anger raging through my body.
 

Judge Simmons banged his gavel, and in a voice filled with both sadness and compassion, he spoke directly to everyone in the courtroom. "We have reached the most difficult part of today's proceeding. Several members of the victims' families have requested to address the court. I ask that those wishing to speak line up in an orderly fashion behind the podium. You may speak directly to the defendant. However, at no time are you permitted to approach him. I am sympathetic and understand how difficult this is for all of you, but I must ask that you refrain from the use of foul language and that you keep your statements to a maximum of five minutes."
 

The judge then turned and pointed at the cameramen standing on the right side of the courtroom. "Prior to each person speaking, they will signal you with a nod or a shake of their head indicating whether they wish to be filmed or not. You will abide by their wishes. If I later discover you disregarded this request, I will not hesitate to hold you in contempt of court and, I promise, the punishment will be severe."
 

Once again, Mac placed his hand on my shoulder. "Are you going to be alright? Are you still up for this?"
 

I nodded. I looked into Mac's eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "Yes, I'll be fine." However, the truth was I still didn't know what I was going to say, and my fear that the families would not appreciate my intruding on their moment frightened me.

 
After a few seconds of silence, a young girl, not much older than Susan, stood up and slowly made her way up to the podium. Then, one by one, several more stood, and the line quickly turned into six, then finally eight extremely nervous, frightened looking people stood waiting for their turn to speak. My heart was beating frantically. I looked up at Mac, whose eyes were riveted on the young girl. The prosecutor shook her hand then walked over to the stack of photographs lying on the floor.  He shuffled through them, found the one he was looking for, and then placed it on the easel.
 
I immediately noticed the resemblance of the young girl and that of the victim. They both had long brown hair, large brown eyes, and faces of angels. She looked at the cameramen and shook her head indicating she did not want to be filmed. Turning to face the defendant, she paused a few seconds before speaking. "Mr. Mathews, I am Sharon MacDonald, Margaret Mary MacDonald's younger sister. I was eight years old when you murdered her. Every day since the police found her body, tossed like a piece of garbage, onto a dark, cold, wet slab of cement behind a bar in Belltown, I have cried myself to sleep. The last time I saw my sister was Sunday August 10, 2003, when she waved goodbye to me after church. She wanted to walk home alone. I was angry with her because she told me I could not come with her. Every day I wonder if she would be alive today if I had gone with her or, if I had gone with her, would my picture also be among those on display in this courtroom today. God tells me I should forgive you, but I cannot. What I can tell you is that when I walk out of this room today, I will never think of you again. You may have been sentenced to life in prison, and you may think you got a terrific deal. But to me you are already dead."
 
Wiping the tears from her face, Sharon MacDonald turned and walked back to her seat. The defendant sat motionless, staring at the floor. Only he and God knew what he was thinking.
 
A tall, tired looking, gray-haired man stepped up to the microphone. He cleared his throat several times before finally being able to speak. He glanced at the men holding the cameras and gave them a quick nod. Like the young girl before him, he did not read a prepared statement. Also like Sharon, he turned to face the defendant.
 
"My daughter Monica Anderson was my only child. Her mother died of cancer when Monica was five years old, leaving me alone to love, care for, and protect her. After my wife's death, Monica gave me the will to go on.  The day you murdered my daughter, you took away my reason for living. I have come here today to tell you that I hate you with every fiber in my body. I wish you misery, pain, and a slow death. I pray you get the punishment in prison that this court was prevented from giving you today. And when you do die, know that an eternity in hell awaits you."
 
With tears in my eyes, I watched the frail old man slowly walk down the aisle and out of the courtroom. The pain in my stomach was intense, but I knew it was nothing compared to the pain experienced by everyone in the room.
 
One by one each person in line spoke. The prosecutor placed the photograph of each victim onto the easel; giving an eerie sense of watching as their mother, father, sister, or brother spoke. Some agreed to be filmed, while others chose to remain just a name. My heart ached for all of them. Some forgave him, but most chose not to. Despite the heart wrenching words each family member spoke, the defendant remained stoic. From where I stood, I didn't see a single tear, any sign of emotion on his face, or in his body language. He just sat quietly staring at the floor.
 
Suddenly Mac tapped me on the shoulder. He winked at me and said, "Show time, kid."
 

I looked around the room before slowly walking up the aisle toward the podium. I could hear the buzzing sound of whispers as I passed each row of spectators. By the time I reached the podium, the room sounded like a beehive. Between the bees buzzing and my heart pounding, I could barely hear myself think. I looked over at the cameras and nodded.
 
I gripped the edges of the podium, hoping to hide my trembling hands. I closed my eyes for a moment, tried to slow my breathing, then looked at the judge. "Would it be alright for me to address the spectators before making my statement?"
 
The Judge nodded as he said, “Yes.”
Staring at the room full of strangers, I wondered if I was making the biggest mistake of my life but also knew it was too late to change my mind. I silently counted to ten then leaned forward and spoke into the microphone. "Some of you may already know my name is James Martin Mathews.  I am the son of John Mathews, the defendant."
 
I glanced over at the table beside me and saw the defendant looking at me with an expression of fear on his face.
 
"I have spent the past twelve weeks trying to understand how someone I thought I knew could do something so horrific. I finally concluded the answer is in the question. I cannot understand because I do not know the person who did this. That man does not exist. He is not the father, husband, son, brother-in-law, neighbor, coworker, or friend he claimed to be. That man was nothing more than a facade to everyone who thought they knew him. The real John Mathews is an empty, unfeeling, selfish, cruel man incapable of caring for anyone except himself. Some call him a sociopath; others say he is a psychopath. Personally, I prefer to describe him as a cruel, sick, pathetic, sadistic loser." 
 
I paused to catch my breath.
 
"I came here today hoping to say something that would help you deal with what he has done. I realize that is impossible, and for that, I apologize. No matter what I say, I know when some of you look at me you can only see him, and because you can only see him, my words will mean nothing. This is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life."
 
I turned to face my father. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his bottom lip was quivering and his hands lay trembling in his lap. I was unmoved. "I disagree with Judge Simmons' statement that you are evil. You are worse.  How is it possible for a person to murder someone then use that horrific murder to avoid facing the justice your actions demand?  Yes, you are a sick, pathetic, sadistic, loser but worst of all, you are a coward.  The shame I feel for you and because of you is beyond words.  You are no longer my father and more important, I am no longer your son."
 
I felt tears well up in my eyes, and a lump start to swell in my throat. I tried to swallow, but the lump continued to grow. I had so much more I wanted to say to him, but I couldn't speak. My heart pounded like a sledgehammer in my chest. My stomach was on fire, and I felt lightheaded. I suddenly realized I was sobbing uncontrollably. I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder, and I turned to see the beautiful, sweet face of Alicia’s grandmother. She put her arms around me and whispered into my ear, "I am so proud of you James. I know Alicia is proud of you too."
 
After handing me a handkerchief, she looped her tiny arm through mine and gently guided me toward the back of the room. As we passed the first row, I felt a hand pat me on the shoulder. As we moved further down the aisle, people continued to stand and pat me on the shoulder. Suddenly, Sharon MacDonald stepped in front of me. With tears streaming down both our faces, she smiled, put her arms around my neck, and gave me a hug. "James, you are the bravest person I have ever met. I don't blame you for what your father did and I don't think anyone else does either."
 
Hearing her words lifted the weight of the world off my shoulders. I rested my head on her shoulder and began to sob. Somewhere in the background, I could hear Judge Simmons' gavel banging as he tried to bring order back to the court.  However, everyone in the room was once again too busy crying to pay any attention.

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 33
James Asks Mac for Help

By Sasha

Knowing a crowd of reporters, television cameras, and spectators awaited me outside on the steps of the courthouse, filled me with dread. Mac sensed my apprehension.  "Follow me, James; I know a back way out of the courthouse." 

 
Mr. Hurley nodded. "You guys go ahead. I'll speak to the reporters." He gave me a hug and before walking away said, "I am proud of you, James. I don't know many people who would have walked into a lion's den and been able to come out of it still in one piece." 

 
I knew Mr. Hurley meant well, but I didn't feel like a winner. Despite finally saying publicly what I needed to say, the peace I had hoped for eluded me. Even knowing the prosecutor was about to announce Dad would be charged with the kidnapping and murder of Alicia, I still didn't feel justice had been served. My heart ached for all the victims of the Belltown Murderer. I was pleased the police had been able to identify the victims of Dad’s heinous crimes. However, I knew I would never be able to rest until all the bodies were found at the cabin.  
 “Mac, is Snohomish County still looking for the bodies of the three Alfina’s, the three babies, and Dad’s father?”

“James, they haven’t been able to find anything.  The property covers a large area.  It could take months of searching and even then, there is no guarantee they will find anything.”

“Mac, that is not acceptable.  Two young girls were kidnapped.  The families had to make a police report.  There has to be something to go on. Where were they camped when their daughter went missing?  The journal tells us the day of the first abduction was June 6, 1935 and the second abduction was on August 15, 1940.  It also states that both were taken in Bellingham.

Mac and I walked in silence. My head was reeled trying to imagine where to start. I knew no one expected me to have the answer, but I felt a painful, self-imposed need to find a way of discovering who and where they were.
 
 
Mac finally broke the silence. "You want to get a cup of coffee before going back to the hotel? You look like you need a shoulder to lean on."

“No, Mac, I don’t need a shoulder, I need a cop with the desire to find the young girls that were taken from their families.  Don’t you think the families have a right to know what happened?”
 
“James, I am certain the parents deceased.  What point would it serve to pursue this after so much time has passed?”
 
“If your sister, cousin, or niece had disappeared, wouldn’t you want to know what happened to them? Wouldn’t you want to give them a proper burial?”
Mac shook his head. “You’re not going to quit until they are found, are you?”

“No, Mac, I am not.”
 
We walked a while in silence.  Finally Mac spoke.  “How about that cup of coffee and maybe some lunch before we formulate a plan to find your Dad’s father, the three Alfinas and the babies.” 



* * * * * * * * *



Before getting out of the car, Mac reached over and patted me on the shoulder. "I'll do what I can, but I can't make any promises."

I had no idea what Mac could do.  Without the bodies, I knew I would never sleep again.  All my life everything came easy for me.  I always had the answer to all the hard questions.  Now, facing the prospect of failure terrified me.

I forced myself to concentrate on what was awaiting me in the hotel room. My gut told me I was not going to be welcomed with open arms. No one, not even Uncle Terry, wanted me to go to the sentencing. I had no doubt they watched it all on television. I walked up to the elevator, pressed the button, and took a deep breath before stepping inside. I received small comfort being the only one on the elevator. I chuckled to myself. Even if it were packed, I was sure I would still feel completely alone.

I swiped the card through the slot, waited for the green light to flash, and then opened the door. Aunt Em, Uncle Terry, and Charlie sat on the couch as though expecting me. Their faces were void of any expression whatsoever. Feeling as though I was facing a firing squad, I sat on the chair across from them impatiently waiting for someone to pull the trigger. After several long minutes of painful silence, I finally spoke. "Okay, spit it out. After this morning, I'm pretty sure I can take just about anything."

Uncle Terry stared at me a moment before saying, "James, I am proud of you."

I know he meant well, but the words stung like a slap on the face. What had I done to warrant such praise? The word proud' seemed so inappropriate. Not knowing what to say, I forced a smile of acknowledgment.

Charlie continued to stare at me as tears welled up in his eyes. He leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, and rested his chin in his cupped hands. "I have tried to convince myself this whole thing was just a terrible nightmare and any moment I would wake up. We'd all be waiting for Dad to come home from work. Mom would be in the kitchen fixing dinner, Susan would be boring me to death telling me how much she loved Billy, and you would be pissing me off again bragging about how you just aced another exam."

Charlie paused to wipe the tears from his face. "Funny, isn't it? You never appreciate what you have until it is gone." Charlie paused again. "And, it is gone, isn't it, James?"
I got up, walked over to Charlie, and put my arms around him. Still crying, Charlie hugged me back. I wanted to cry too, but I knew I had to be the strong one. The job of holding the family together had fallen onto my shoulders. It was a job I didn't want, and one I wasn't at all prepared for.

To my surprise, the prosecutor did not announce the new indictment and only commented on Dad’s conviction.
 Aunt Em, who had remained silent until now, stood up and said, "James, what's next?"

When I didn't immediately respond, she asked again, "You guys can't stay in this hotel forever. We can move into the rental until Martha and Susan are better.   Then we need to figure out what to do. Terry and I want you to consider staying with us for a while in Miami. God knows you need to get away from this mess. You need time to relax and sort everything out."

I nodded. "I agree. We have a conference with Susan's doctor tomorrow to discuss her release from the hospital.  That will be an appropriate time to talk about what we should do next."

To my surprise, Charlie agreed. "My only concern is Mom. She isn't doing much better and I doubt taking her to Miami would be a good idea at this time. James, you can talk to Dr. Martin, but I'm sure he will want her to stay here longer."

Aunt Em and Uncle Terry nodded.

"I think it would be best if both Charlie and Susan spend some time with you, away from all this. I will stay here with Mom."

Uncle Terry looked at me suspiciously. "James, what are you not telling us?"

Charlie stared at me a moment and then added, "You are still playing cops and robbers, aren't you?"

I sighed in frustration. My promise not to keep anything from them stuck in my throat. "Listen, this isn't over yet. I know you don't approve, but I have something I need to do before I can finally close the book on this."

Uncle Terry shook his head. "James, you are going to make yourself sick. What is it that's so important? Why can't you just let this go?"

The knot in my stomach tightened, sending a sharp pain up into my chest.  I knew Uncle Terry was right, but the ache in my heart prevented me from listening to him.

"There’re still victims unaccounted for.  Where is Dad’s dad? Is he still alive? Where are the bodies of the young girls he abducted?  Where are their babies buried?

How can I possibly walk away from that?"

Obviously frustrated, Uncle Terry placed both hands on my shoulders. "James, let the police handle it. It's their job, not yours."

The sound of the phone startled me. 

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 33
James In Charge

By Sasha

The tension in the room was so thick it left little room for air, I was surprised we could still breathe. Mac and Mr. Hurley sat in silence staring at the floor. I had no idea what they were thinking about but common sense told me they were still trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. However, knowing so many pieces were still missing, I found it a waste of time playing silly guessing games. Facts were all that mattered to me. Until I knew what was in Aunt Louise's letter, if Grandpa died of natural causes, and most important, the identity of the three skeletons, it was pointless to focus on anything other than what I already knew.

Triggered by an unfamiliar flash of emotion, my mind drifted into a different direction. Confirmed by Mom and then Grandpa's letter, it seemed more than likely Aunt Louise was my Grandmother. With nothing to go on, no birth certificate, marriage certificate, school records, not even a death certificate, I wondered if we would ever know the true identity of the woman I had always assumed was Grandma. DNA would determine Aunt Louise's relationship to Dad, her connection, if any to Grandma, and determine if the infant was in fact Grandpa's and Aunt Louise's. But knowing the question of who Grandma was could possibly remain a mystery forever sent waves of sadness through my entire body.

A strange and unexpected anger came over me as I thought about the woman who had never been anything more than a word to me, a woman who, in reality, wasn't even related to me. Tossed away like a piece of garbage, as far as I could tell, no one knew her, came looking for her, and except possibly Aunt Louise, grieved for her. At that moment, I decided she would always be Grandma and Aunt Louise would continue to be Aunt Louise.

Feeling Mr. Hurley's hand on my shoulder startled me. "James, you're crying. What's wrong?"

Embarrassed, I wiped the tears from my face with my shirtsleeve, and feeling an uncontrollable rage building inside me, I slammed my fists onto the desk and yelled, "This is all just so damn wrong!"

Mac tried to comfort me. "I know it is hard to wait, but we have to follow proper police procedure..."

"No, Mac, that's not what's upsetting me. How is it possible that one man can cause so much pain?"

"James, I understand. Your father..."

"I'm talking about Grandpa, not Dad. How could he spend so many years on that shitty little piece of property and no one notice anything strange about him?"

As soon as I spoke the words, I realized the absurdity of what I had said. I laughed and then shook my head. "Mac, you told me everyone gave him a wide berth because they thought he was a strange and scary guy.  That's how he kept people away."

I paused to catch my breath. "He was obviously a smart guy, too. He certainly wasn't the illiterate bumpkin we thought he was. But where did he come from? Where did he grow up? Who were his parents? Who was Grandma? Where the hell did she come from? She was someone's daughter, someone's friend; she didn't just magically appear one day."

Unable to keep up, Mac finally raised his hands and said, "Whoa, James, slow down. You're making me dizzy."

I ignored him and continued to follow my train of thought. "That's it, don't you see? She didn't just magically appear; think about it."

Mac shook is head. "Think about what, James?"

"It's in Grandpa's letter. He said, 'You weren't a collector like me'. What that meant Grandpa took his victims home?   What if Grandma was one of his victims? That would explain why no one knew her and why there was no record of her."

I could see the wheels turning inside Mac's head.

"We know Grandma died before Dad was born in 1966 and Aunt Louise was at least thirteen when he was born. This would mean that Grandma had to be with Grandpa at least thirteen years. There has to be a way of looking for young girls missing between 1950 and 1953."

"For God's sake, James, that's a long time ago and we don't even know where to start. I'm not sure records go back that far in some cities."

"I don't care. It's worth a try. What the hell have you got to lose?"

"James, it's a long shot. Don't get your hopes up. Even if she was kidnapped, it is unlikely she has any family still alive. Even if we find a name, it is doubtful we can ever make a positive identification."

"Mac, we owe it to her to at least try."

Clearly knowing it was pointless to argue, Mac agreed.

My heart was racing again. I fought desperately to keep up with the thoughts popping up in my head like wild mushrooms after a rainstorm. I turned to face Mr. Hurley. "You said that Mom's conversation couldn't be used in court, but we have Grandpa's letter confirming most of what she said."

Mr. Hurley shook his head. "If your Dad did kill your grandfather and your aunt, I feel it is safe to assume he destroyed the list too, leaving us with nothing more than the ramblings of a lunatic."

Mac added,  "Even though we found the remains of three victims, and it is determined all three were murdered, it is doubtful we can prove your grandfather killed them. I also doubt there was a list. For all we know it never existed and was just a ruse to bait your dad."

I was getting frustrated. "Don't you see, it doesn't matter as long as Dad thinks there is a list?"

Mac sat forward and with 'I don't get it' written on his face, said, "You lost me on that one, James."

"Okay, I will try to speak in words less than three syllables."

Both Mac and Mr. Hurley laughed.

"Mr. Hurley, when I asked you why Dad told his attorney about his father's relationship with his sister, you said it was motivated by 'fear and arrogance."

Mr. Hurley nodded.

Feeling a little smug, I smiled and in a voice filled with a touch of my own arrogance said, "Dad never found the list. If he did, he would have destroyed it, leaving him with nothing to be afraid of. Maybe you're right, Mac, and the list doesn't exist. But tell the Whatcom County police to go back over every inch of the house and look for it even if they have to tear it apart board by board."

Mac started to speak but I interrupted. "How long do you think we have before they identify the skeletons and determine Grandpa's cause of death?"

I could tell Mac had no idea where I was going with this. He shrugged and said, "This is the biggest case in the State and it is receiving top priority. The FBI is fast tracking it so I can only presume we'll know something in less than a week.  They may be able to determine the cause of death but I doubt they will ever identify your Grandmother."

"When is Dad scheduled to be sentenced for the Belltown Murders?"

Both Mac and Mr. Hurley sat up straight and unable to contain their curiosity any longer, spoke in unison. "Why?"

"Please, just answer the question."

Mr. Hurley responded with, "In four days, next Tuesday. Why?"

I ignored his question and turned to face Mac. "Are you certain that Snohomish is going to charge Dad with Mary Ellen's murder the same day?"

Mac nodded. "Yes, they are going to charge him immediately after the sentencing.

Clearly confused and frustrated, Mac raised his voice to get my attention. "Damn it, James, where the hell is all this going?"

Mr. Hurley added his two cents too, "Yeah, what's going on in that oversized brain of yours?"

I laughed. "Don't take this personally, but your little brain would explode if it tried to comprehend what's rattling around in mine."

Not giving either a chance to respond, I continued. "Is there any chance Snohomish County will find Mary Ellen's body before Whatcom County identifies the skeletons?"

Mac leaned back in his chair. "I wish I could say yes, but to be honest I think it is unlikely they will ever find her body. I don't believe she is buried on the property."

Mac paused a moment then added, "You're not going to tell us where this is going, are you?"

"No, not yet. I do have one last question. What are the chances of keeping Dad and his attorney in the dark about the letters or anything Whatcom County has found on Grandpa's property?"

Mac was quick to answer. "Actually, pretty good. This is the biggest case they've ever had and they are keeping a tight lid on it."

"Good, because I just may have figured out a way to get him to tell me where he buried Mary Ellen."

Mac looked at me in disbelief. "And, just how do you plan to accomplish that?"

I grinned at Mac and winked at Mr. Hurley. "Mr. Hurley gave me the answer. I think I can use Dad's fear to my advantage."

I could tell neither had the slightest idea of what I was talking about.

"Mr. Hurley, can you get me in to see Dad after Snohomish charges him with Mary Ellen's murder?"

"He'll have to be arraigned in Snohomish County, so you'll probably have to drive up there, and that is only if he agrees to see you."
 
I laughed.  "Work your magic, Mr. Hurley, I know you can do it."

I picked up my backpack, stood up, and walked toward the door.

Mac took hold of my arm then asked, "Where are you going?"

"

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye.

Chapter 34
Very Busy Day

By Sasha

 I listened to Mac but found it hard to believe what he was telling me.  The Snohomish County Police finally found the gravesites.  It contained Alfina 1, Alfina 2, the three babies, and Dad’s Dad.  A second gravesite contained Alicia.

“What about Alfina 3?  Where is she?”

Mac paused before responding.

“Meet me after the conference with Susan’s doctor.  I have a lot to tell you and we need to talk in person, not on the phone.”

Confused, but unable to argue, I agreed to meet him at 3 o’clock at the restaurant.
 

* * * * * * * * *

 
Unable to sleep, I climbed out of bed and tiptoed over to the door. As I reached for the doorknob, I glanced over at Charlie's bed and realized it was empty. Apparently, he couldn't sleep either.
 
The living room was empty, but I could see Charlie's silhouette on the balcony. I poured myself a glass of milk and debated whether to join him or leave him alone with his thoughts. I took a sip of milk and stepped out onto the balcony. "Hi, kiddo, I guess you can't sleep either."
 
Charlie turned to look at me. In the moonlight, I could see his eyes were red and swollen. I sat beside him and waited for him to speak first.
 
"James, sometimes I wonder if I will ever get a decent night's sleep again."

Charlie sighed, leaned forward, and with his elbows resting on his thighs said, "Why do I still love him? I desperately want to hate him but I can't. God knows I hate what he did, but I cannot forget he is still my father. I wish I could be like you. Does hating him make this more bearable?"
 
It broke my heart to see the sadness and confusion on Charlie's face. I wanted to say something profound, something that would lift the painful burden he was carrying. But we were two different people, each searching for our own way to survive this. I reached over and placed my hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"There is no right or wrong way to feel. Yes, I admit I hate him, but that doesn't take away the pain he has caused. All I can tell you is hatred is not the answer. For me, I pray for the day when I can say I feel nothing."
 
Charlie sighed. "I feel as though the world hates us. People still blame us for not knowing what he was. Sometimes I get so angry I want to scream. Yet other times, all I can do is cry. I miss my friends. I miss my life."

Charlie wiped the tears from his eyes. "James, I am terrified I am going to feel like this forever. Please tell me we will get through this."

Ignoring the tears streaming down his cheeks again, Charlie looked at me with eyes pleading for an answer.
 
"Charlie, we will get through this. However, it is going to take time, and we have to do it as a family. The best thing you and Susan can do is get away from here. Go to Miami with Uncle Terry and Aunt Em."
 
Charlie nodded. We sat silently staring at the beautiful skyline. I had no idea what Charlie was thinking, but I wondered, is there anyone out there in the vast darkness of this city that understands the hell we are going through? Does anyone even care?
 
Charlie abruptly changed the subject.

"What have you and Mac cooked up? That was him on the phone wasn't it?"
 
I didn't feel comfortable telling Charlie the details of what the police found. "After the meeting in the morning with Dr. Perez and Susan, Mac and I are getting together to talk."


Charlie chuckled. "James, you didn't answer my question."
 
"I'll tell you more after Mac and I talk. Right now, I honestly don't know what's going to happen."
 

 
* * *
 

 
Marilyn greeted us at the front desk. Although we were a few minutes early, she quickly ushered us into the large conference room at the end of the hall. After she left the room, the silence was awkward. During breakfast, we avoided talking about Susan, the case, or Mom, focusing instead on mundane subjects such as the weather and taking another one-day ferry trip to Victoria. Although no one said anything, it felt as though talking about Susan was suddenly taboo.
 
The door opened, and Susan walked in with a big smile on her face. Before today, I hadn't given it much thought, but I was suddenly struck with awe at how pretty she looked. Her sky blue eyes sparkled, and her thick, long blonde hair bounced with each step as she rushed across the room. Wearing a pink blouse with ruffles down the front, and what appeared to be a new pair of blue jeans, Susan looked much younger than her sixteen years. Obviously excited over her impending release, she hugged all of us enthusiastically. The joy she projected was infectious. It felt good to see her so happy.
 

When Dr. Perez, Marilyn, and Dr. Martin entered the room, we all quickly sat down. Dr. Martin sat at the head of the table with Marilyn on one side and Dr. Perez on the other. Susan sat beside Marilyn. She continued to smile but I couldn't help noticing she was holding Marilyn's hand in a viselike grip.
 
Dr. Martin cleared his throat before speaking. "You are all aware that Dr. Holden was originally Susan's attending physician assigned to oversee her treatment here. However, because your mother and Susan's cases overlap, we felt it best I take over. Dr. Perez, Marilyn, and I have discussed Susan's progress at considerable length, and we feel she has made significant progress."
 
Susan smiled and giggled much like a child receiving a good conduct award. Dr. Martin spent a few minutes discussing the importance of Susan continuing to take her prescribed antidepressants.  He emphasized her need to participate in outpatient therapy at least twice a week, and encouraged her to verbalize any frustrations of the difficulties she may experience. Looking directly at Susan, Dr. Martin said, "You have made remarkable progress in the month you've been with us. But I caution you to be aware that once you leave the security of the hospital, the outside world will present many challenging situations."
 

Susan nodded. "Yes, I know that. I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared. But this is something Marilyn and I have talked about at great length, and we both think I am ready."
 

Marilyn smiled and gave Susan an affectionate hug. Looking around the room, Dr. Martin asked, "Do any of you have any questions or concerns you want to talk about?"
 

I glanced at Uncle Terry and Aunt Em. I knew they had questions and was surprised they chose to remain silent. I definitely had concerns, but not sure where to begin, I waited a few seconds before speaking.
 
"I don't want to be the one to burst anyone's bubble, but I feel it is necessary to ask Susan how much she knows about Mom's hospitalization and if she is aware of the events at the court yesterday."
All eyes suddenly focused on Susan. She shifted in her chair, leaned forward, and placed both hands on the table. "James, I think I know as much as everyone here does about Mom and Dad."
 

Susan sounded defensive, and I made a point to allow her continue speaking without interrupting her.
 

"I know a body was found at the cabin. I also know that Mom is having difficulty dealing with what Dad did and is in the hospital at Harborview.” 

 
Tears streamed down Susan's face. Had my questions opened a wound she might not be ready to talk about?I knew this was difficult, but I also knew once Susan left the hospital, it was important she know what to expect. Pretending nothing happened and hiding the truth from her would be impossible. If she was going to have a hard time with the truth, I had to know now and so did everyone else.
 
Susan wiped the tears from her face. "I know Dad will spend the rest of his life in prison. I also know he has been charged with another murder and this time he could get the death penalty."
 
Susan paused briefly to regain her composure. "Am I able to handle this? All I can say is I don't have much of a choice, do I? I will not pretend it isn't hard, nor will I pretend this doesn't make me both angry and sad. However, staying here isn't the answer. I don't want any of you to think you have to talk in whispers around me. The worst thing you can do is to treat me like a child. If something is bothering me, I promise to tell you. I will take my medication and continue outpatient therapy with Dr. Martin."
 

Susan leaned back in her chair. "I honestly don't know what else I can say to reassure you that I am ready to be released."
 
I smiled at Susan. "That's good enough for me."
 

However, in the back of my mind I felt a nagging itch. I wondered how Susan would feel about learning what Dad’s dad did, and the grave the police found. Although not sure I was making the right choice, I decided not to bring up the subject.
 

The meeting ended with Uncle Terry and Aunt Em asking about the possibility of taking Charlie and Susan back to Miami with them.  Both Dr. Perez and Dr. Martin agreed a change of scenery would be good but advised that it would be best to wait a few weeks to see how well Susan adjusted to the pressures of the outside world.
 

To my surprise, no one asked Dr. Martin about Mom.  I made a mental note to schedule an appointment with him to discuss Mom's progress.  I glanced at my watch.  I was relieved to see I still had an hour before my meeting with Mac.

* * * * * * * * *
 
I arrived early at the restaurant, and to my surprise Mac was already there, but not alone.  Sitting across from him was Alicia’s grandmother.  When he saw me, Mac stood up and said, “I know you’ve met Angela, Alicia’s mother.  I hope you don’t mind, but I asked her to join us.”

Angela stood and gave me a warm hug.  “Hello, James, it is so delightful to see you again.”

I wanted to ask why she was there, but words totally failed me. 

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 35
Alfina 3

By Sasha

I stood frozen a moment, not sure which side of the booth to sit on.  Mac tapped the seat beside him and solved my dilemma.

With Angela, Alicia’s grandmother sitting across from me, I felt painfully uncomfortable.  Why is she here?

Seeing my nervous behavior, she spoke first.  “I’m sure you are wondering why I’m here.  Mac is the one who told me you found Alicia.”

She paused, took a sip of water, and then continued.  “I knew she was dead for a long time.  However, hearing the words did not bring the closure I anticipated.  The hatred I felt for your father is beyond my ability to describe.  Yet, when I saw you in court, I realize the extent of his cruelty had reached so much further than I could imagine.  When Mac came to me and asked for a favor, I was happy and eager to assist.
 
“You must know Mac thinks quite highly of you.  He describes you as a strong, intelligent, determined young man with an amazing sense of right and wrong.  He also told me how your father’s heinous behavior has nearly torn your family apart.  Susan’s attempted suicide, your mother’s hospitalization, and Charlie’s anger problems.  James, tell me, how do you cope with all this? How do you keep your sanity?”

I had no idea where all this was leading and my patience was wearing thin.  What favor was she talking about?  Why did Mac ask her here?  If one of them didn’t explain soon, I would certainly explode.
 
Mac finally spoke.  “As you know we found your grandfather…”

“Don’t call him my grandfather!”
 
“Okay, James, calm down.  We found your dad’s father, what appears to be Alfina 1, Alfina 2, and three infants. We obviously have to wait for the autopsy and forensics to confirm your dad’s father’s identity.  However, we can say it appears he died from blunt force trauma to the head.”

“Mac, I don’t want to be rude, or offend anyone.  Why is Alicia’s grandmother here?  What does she have to do with any of this?”
 
“James, I have to tell you this in my way.  You will just have to be patient.  We have been able to locate two missing person reports.  One made in 1935 and the other in 1940.  Both were young girls taken in the middle of the night while on a camping trip with their family in Bellingham.  We are currently trying to find living members of the families to obtain DNA for comparison.  I’m going to be honest, James, with the amount of time that has passed, finding members of either child’s family is not going to be easy.”

Mac glanced at Alicia’s grandmother who had remained perfectly silent while Mac spoke.  She sat with her elbows on the table and her chin resting on her clasps hands.  She ignored the tears streaming down her cheeks as Mac continued to speak.

“Yesterday a woman walked into the Snohomish County Police Station.  She was an old, poorly dressed, badly beaten woman.  She confessed to killing your father’s dad.  She showed the police where she buried the body.  Then she told the most unbelievable story about being severely beaten when she was a little girl and forced to have two babies.  She told the police that a man she called Adain beat her again and she hit him with a piece of wood and killed him.  The police are having a difficult time figuring out who the woman is.  The only name she gave them was Alfina.  She barely speaks English, just enough to get by.

 “She must have been out in the woods for months hiding and living off the land.  Exhaustion and starvation are the only reason she turned herself in. James, I think she’s your father’s mother.”
 
Angela took hold of my hand.  “James, this woman has been through hell.  She has never been to school, never associated with anyone other than your dad and his father and can barely speak English.  You’re the only one we know that can communicate with her.  She needs your help.”
 
Mac interrupted again, “The Snohomish Police wants to put her in jail.  I’ve contacted Mr. Hurley and he is working on getting her released to Angela’s custody while we try to get the mess sorted out.”
 
My head was spinning so fast I thought I was going to pass out.  This was just too much to absorb.  I honestly didn’t know if I could meet my father’s mother.  She was part of a world I didn’t want anything to do with.
 
I buried my face into my hands and began to cry.  Mac patted me on the back and Angela gently stroked my head.
 
Dear God tell me what to do.  Please tell me what to do!

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 36
James Meets his Grandmother

By Sasha

Angela did her best to comfort me.  “James, you can’t blame her.  She’s as much a victim as the others.”

Betty gave Mac a harsh verbal lashing followed by a well-placed swat to the head with a wet towel.  “Damn it, Mac, I warned you to be nice to this kid.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I couldn’t help but burst into laughter hearing Mac exclaim in an extremely loud voice, “Ouch!  That really hurt.”

Betty grinned, ruffled his hair, and said, “Good, you deserved it.”

Betty then handed me a dry, clean towel to wipe the tears from my face.

She returned a few minutes later with a large glass of milk.  “No coffee for you.  You have enough on your mind without your ulcer throwing a temper tantrum.”
 
I pushed the glass aside, sat back, and closed my eyes.  Thinking about Alfina as a frightened little girl at the mercy of Dad and his dad made me sick to my stomach.  I couldn’t begin to imagine what she must have gone through.  I felt tears welling up in my eyes again.  Ignoring them, I turned to Mac and asked, “Do you think Mr. Hurley will be able to get Alfina released?”
 
Mac smiled.  “Yes, if anyone can, it’s Mr. Hurley.”

Angela, remained silent, but her smile told me she knew I would meet with Alfina.

 
* * * * * * * * *

 
As if by magic, Mac’s phone rang.  It was Mr. Hurley.  After speaking for a few minutes, he hung up the phone and signaled Betty for the check.
 
“Mr. Hurley just checked Alfina into Harborview Medical Center for a complete physical.  James, are you ready to meet your grandmother?”

Unable to speak, I feigned a smile and nodded.

Angela, Mac and I drove to the hospital in complete silence.  We met Mr. Hurley in the lobby.

Angela could tell how nervous I was and kept telling me, “James, you are doing the right thing.  She needs you now.  You are the only person that can communicate with her.  Can you imagine how frightened and confused she must be?”

Mac immediately asked Mr. Hurley, “Did you have much trouble getting Snohomish to release her into your custody?”

“No.  Once I confirmed her story about being held captive, the DA declined to press charges.  They will need her for the court case, which makes James our only means of talking to her.”
 
Mr. Hurley walked over to me and placed his hands on my shoulders.  “I know how hard this must be for you, but we need your help.  Alfina is terrified and doesn’t understand what is happening.  We need you to talk to her and get as much information you can about what she remembers.  Can you do that?”
 
Knowing I had no choice, I said, “Yes.”

Mr. Hurley went on to say, “She’s in pretty poor shape.  Forensics is with Alfina right now.  They are collecting whatever evidence she may have on her.  She is so frightened she has had to be restrained.  This is only adding to her fear.”
 
Dad’s father died or disappeared five years ago.  Where has Alfina been hiding all that time?  It is possible she stayed in the cabin for a while but must have moved out when Dad started using it.  Every question I came up with brought another.  Mr. Hurley and Mac were right.  I had to talk with Alfina directly to get the answers we needed.

 
* * * * * * * * *
 
 
Mac, Mr. Hurley, Angela, and I stood outside Alfina’s room.  We waited until the forensics crew was finished collecting evidence.  The nurse came out and told us we could go in.  I looked at Mac and asked him to let me go in alone.  He agreed.
 
My heart pounded as I entered the room.  The thin, frail woman lying in bed had long fire red hair in desperate need of washing.  She stared at me with eyes filled with terror.  Her arms and legs were strapped to the bed, preventing her from moving.  I turned and asked the nurse for two bowls of warm water, two washcloths and some soap.  She left the room and returned immediately with the items.  She placed them on the table beside the bed.

After a few seconds, Alfina stopped shaking and in a soft voice said in Romani, “Cine esti tu?

I smiled, and in Rumanian said, “I’m James, your grandson.”

Her bottom lip quivered and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Am un nepot?"

“Yes, you are a grandmother.  You have two grandsons and a granddaughter.”

I picked up the washcloth, dipped in the warm water, lathered it with the bar of soap and began to wash the dirt from her face. I dipped the other cloth into the second bowl of water and gently rinsed off the soap.
 
In Romani, I began to talk to her.  “You are not in any trouble.  No one is going to arrest you.  You will not be punished for what you did.  We just need to know what happened.  Would you be willing to answer a few questions?”


“Da.”
 
“First, would you like me to have them remove the straps on your arms and legs?”
 
Again, Alfina said, “Da.”

“Would you like something to drink?”

She smiled and said, “Da.”
 
I asked the nurse for a glass of water.
 
I couldn’t believe how frail she was. I could tell she had numerous healed broken bones, scars, and several injuries that looked like they had been caused by a knife.  Her arms and legs were like thin sticks.   There was no muscle.  I continued to wash her arms and legs, all the while, terrified I might break them.  Speaking in Romani, she told me Adain, always called Dark, my dad’s father, was a cruel and spiteful man.  He beat her every day.  She was often punished by not being allowed to eat for as many as three days.  It was her job to chop wood, sew clothing from scraps of material Dark brought home, cook and wash clothes.  She told me about Dad.  He was beaten every day and taught to kill animals for food.  He was forbidden to show any affection for Alfina.
 
At this point, Alfina paused. Tears welled up in her eyes and she turned to face the wall.  “You see, I am your father’s sister too.  All his life he thought I was his sister because that what Dark tell him.  Tears still streaming down her cheeks, she went on to say, “Yes, I be his sister, but I also be his mother.  I love him as a mother.  I made the mistake of telling him the truth, and your father never forgave me. Dark was so angry he nearly beat me to death.  Your father never spoke to me again.  When you father leave, Dark blame me.”
 
I could tell she was getting tired and needed to rest.
 
When I told her I had to leave, she asked if I was coming back.  I smiled and said, “Da.”

I paused before leaving.  I had one more question. "Would it be alright if I called you grandmother?"

Alfina smiled and with tears in her eyes said, "Da!"

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns Jamess life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 37
Getting to Know Grandmother

By Sasha

After leaving Alfina’s room, Mac, Angela, Mr. Hurley and I walked slowly and silently down the hall toward the nurses’ station.  I introduced myself as Alfina’s grandson and asked to speak with her doctor.  A few minutes later, a Young man, not much older than me, introduced himself.  “Hello, I am Doctor Smyth, Alfina’s doctor.”

I immediately began firing questions at him like an angry Gatling gun. “How much experience have you had? Are you qualified to treat my grandmother? What is her current medical condition?”

Mack interrupted.  “James, give the doctor a break.  I am sure he is more than qualified, and if you give him a chance to speak, he will be a happy to answer all your questions."

Dr. Smyth smiled and said, “Your grandmother was brought in with multiple medical issues.  Her inability to speak much English has hindered our progress significantly.  That aside, x-rays show multiple broken bones that over time have healed without medical attention. She is blind in her right eye most likely from a severe blow from a fist or heavy object.  Her left foot has been repeatedly placed in what I believe to be a vise.  She will always require a cane to be able to walk.  She has permanent scars around her ankles and wrists indicating long-term restraint.  Most likely they are from a chain. When she arrived, her blood pressure was dangerously high and she suffers from malnutrition and long-term exposure.  My greatest concern is the terror she exhibits.  Unless this is addressed, I can almost guarantee she is a candidate for a stroke.

“The good news is she has a strong heart.  We plan to run a full series of tests to get a better picture of her health.  This, I am sorry to say, will not be cheap.”

I immediately informed the doctor that money was not an issue.  “Just send the bill to me.”

Mac laughed.  “I bet you've wanted to say that your whole life.”

Without answering, I turned to speak to Mr. Hurley.  “Can you contact Dr. Williams and schedule a family meeting? I think it would be best if he is there when we tell Mom, Susan and Charlie about Grandmother.”

Mr. Hurley nodded.  He then looked at Dr. Williams.  "James speaks Romani and can translate for you when necessary.”

Suddenly, a loud scream came from Grandmother’s room.  I ran down the hall and found her on the floor crying.  “Grandmother, what happened?”

”They want to put me in that chair.”

“Grandmother, it is called a wheelchair.  It will help you get around so you won’t have to walk on your injured foot.”

I helped her into the chair.  I told Angela, Mac and Mr. Hurley that it was probably best if I stayed with Grandmother until she felt less confused.  They all agreed.
* * * * * * * * * *

 
Everything frightened grandmother.  The catscan, even the scale frightened her.  When the nurse tried to use the stethoscope to listen to her heart and lungs she refused to cooperate.  My ability to speak Romani was severely challenged and limited to standard conversations.  My pronunciation was not the best and occasionally grandmother would smile and correct me.

The entire afternoon was spent taking grandmother from one test to another.  By the time we were finished we both were exhausted.  I knew Mac and Mr. Hurley wanted me to question her about Dad and his father, but I had to wait until after dinner to find the time to talk.

At first she was the one with all the questions.  She wanted to know about Charlie and Susan, what I was studying in school and what type of woman Dad married.  It took a while before she asked about Dad.  I dreaded the question but felt honesty was the only way to go.  When I told her he had been arrested for murdering twelve women and sentenced to life in prison, she didn’t react the way I had expected.

”Dark be a cruel man.  He taught Alexandru to kill small animals when he still be a child.  When you raise a child to be cruel, why be surprised he grow up and go after bigger game?”

I was unprepared for grandmother’s calm response to learning her son was a murderer.  I stopped asking her about Dad and focused on his father.

“Do you remember anything about Dark?”

"Da.”

“What do you remember?”

”He be a mean man.  He treat me like an animal.  I sleep in the shed with a heavy chain around my neck.   Sometimes he forget to give me a blanket.  He beat me if I speak to Alexandru.”

“I am so sorry you had to go through that.”



The question I dreaded asking still had to be asked.

“What happened the day Dark died?”

Switching back and forth from English to Romani, Grandmother answered.

“We have terrible fight.  I pick up a large piece of wood and hit him in the head.  When I see he be dead, I plant him where all the others be planted."

But that was almost five years ago.  How did you survive?”

Grandmother smiled.  “Dark taught me well.  I stay in cabin after Dark be dead.  When Alexandru come back, I hide in cave near the river.  I live off the land. I catch fish, eat wild berries and fruit, and after I sure Alexandru no come back, I move back into the cabin. Then I move back to the cave when you and the police come to the cabin.”
I had one more question.

“Why did you go to the police?”

“There be no food to eat and I afeard of dying.”
 
“Grandmother I think it is time you get some sleep.  Don’t worry; I will stay here with you all night.”

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him. Evil Eddie doesn't like Romanian so just ignore the funny symbles...... As in the previous chapter, I am not translating the Romanian and hope James's responses are enough to convey what grandmother is saying.

Chapter 38
Dad's Secret

By Sasha

 
Unable to sleep, I lay awake all night in the chair beside Grandmother’s bed.  Even asleep, the sounds of car horns honking, doors opening and shutting, phones ringing and nurses talking in the hallway frightened Grandmother.  Every unfamiliar sound woke her with a startled response. It was difficult for me to imagine a life living entirely alone.  Never seeing a kind face, hearing a kind word, working from sun up to sun down and forced to eat God knows what.  Behind the cabin, there was an old, filthy outhouse that smelled so foul it made me gag.  There was no running water in the cabin.  All washing and bathing were done in the river that was freezing no matter what time of year it was. Even sleeping in a bed was a new experience for Grandmother.

Looking at the woman lying in the bed next to me, it was hard to believe she was seventy-one years old. Grandmother was born on August 15, 1940 but looked like she was in her middle nineties. She spent her entire life hidden from the world. It seems her only purpose in life was to give Dark a son.  Once she fulfilled her duty, he had no use for her.  I knew we would never know how old Dark was, but he had to be at least 20 years older than Grandmother, which would make him in his early nineties. 
I suddenly realized Grandmother was awake and looking at me.

“James, go home and get some sleep.  You no need to stay here with me.”

“I am fine, Grandmother.  Don’t worry about me.  Besides, you’re not getting much sleep yourself.”

I paused before asking, “Why are you speaking in English and not Romani?”

Grandmother smiled.  “Not many here speak Romani. I need to practice my English.”

“If Dark only spoke Romani and you never went to school, how did you learn English?”

“Alexandu learn English when he go to school.  He and Dark argue all the time about Alexandu no speaking English at home. He was a strong boy and he refused to listen to Dark.  Dark get very angry when he hear Alexandu speak English to me.  It make him mad and he punish me.  But Alexandu no care.  He keep talking to me in English.”

“Grandmother, your English is very good. My Romani isn’t very good.  My pronunciation is terrible.”

“No, James, you speak it good.”  Grandmother started to laugh.  “Okay, maybe not so good but still I understand.” 

We both laughed.

“Grandmother, I notice you are nervous here.  I know you are seeing and hearing things that must seem terribly strange.  Seattle is a big city, not like the small farm where you lived.  There are many things that will seem strange to you.  It will take time for you to get used to everything.  But I will help you.”

Grandmother looked at me curiously. She shook her head and said, “Why I no go back and live in the cabin?  It always be my home.”

I didn’t know what to say.  Her request caught me off guard. I thought about it for a moment and then reminded her,” You must know why the police are searching the cabin and the land around it.”
 
Grandmother nodded. 

“Dark did some terrible things and they are looking for more bodies.  Alexandru did some terrible things too, and they are looking for evidence of what he may have done.”
 
“I know Alexandru hurt that girl, the one you call Alicia.  He no know I be there.  I see him hurt her.”
 
This was something Mac needed to know right away.  It is one thing to find Alicia’s bones but to have a witness to her murder is a major breakthrough.  I wondered if Dad’s attorney would try to discredit Grandmother by convincing the court she was crazy.  I quickly put that thought aside.  I knew Mr. Hurley would know what to do.
 
“What did Dad do after he hurt Alicia?”

"He dig a hole near the rose garden and put her into it.  I remembered Dark planting Alfina 2 and her baby.  When Alexandru plant that young girl, I feel the same sadness.  I wait a long time after Dark die and plant a wild purple rhododendron to remember Alfina 2 and her baby.  I plant a yellow rose bush to remember Alicia.  I think they would have liked that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I am sure they were very pleased you did that for them.”

The thought of Grandmother living at the cabin made me sick to my stomach.  I know it was the only place she ever called home, but somehow, I knew I would have to convince her that living with us was a much better idea.  I also knew Mom, Susan, and Charlie would have to agree but I didn’t think that would be a problem once they met Grandmother.
 
I looked over at Grandmother and she was sound asleep.  I still wasn’t tired.  My mind was racing.  I still had so much to do.  I needed to talk with Mac and Mr. Hurley.  I wanted to talk to Grandmother’s doctor about the results of the tests.  I wanted to visit with Mom, and Friday, Susan was coming home and I wanted to be there when she arrived.  Aunt Em and Uncle Terry were busy moving everything into the rental house.  Just thinking about everything I had to do made me sleepy.  I closed my eyes and fell fast asleep.

* * * * * * * * *

I woke to the sound of Grandmother screaming my name.  “James, help me!”

There were several nurses and an equal number of aides surrounding the bed, trying to get Grandmother to sit up.  I immediately pushed my way through the crowd and discovered they were trying to change her sheets and yelled, “Everyone back away!”

I took hold of Grandmother’s hand and tried to explain what they were doing.  She interrupted and said, “No, they want to wash my hair too.  No one allowed to wash my hair.”
 
Pointing to the large sink in the corner, she said, “That not Gypsy way.  No use water from container that be tainted.  I see them wash their hands there.  I no use that water.  It be marime’!!”
Most Gypsy society relies heavily on distinctions between behavior that is pure, vujo, or wuzho, and polluted, or marime'. Marime' has a duel meaning to the Gypsy. It refers both to a state of pollution or defilement as well as to the sentence of expulsion imposed for violation of purity rules or any behavior disruptive to the Gypsy community. Pollution and rejection are thus closely associated with one another. Gypsies define themselves in part by their adherence to these cleanliness rituals.
Many of the traditional laws of hygiene deal with water. For example, Gypsies must wash only in running water. A shower would be acceptable, but a bath would not be, for the person would be sitting or lying in dirty stagnant water. Dishes cannot be rinsed in the same sink or basin that is used for washing personal clothing. The kitchen sink is used only for washing one's dishes and therefore, cannot be used for washing one's hands.


I looked at her hair and agreed it needed to be washed.  Washing it in the sink was out of the question.   I suggested she get a haircut.  Grandmother tipped her head to the side then back again.  “Yes, cut it off.  Cut it all off.”


One of the aides left the room and returned with a pair of scissors. They cut it very short and after several minutes of convincing, I was able to talk Grandmother into letting them wash her hair in the shower.  She agreed.  After looking at herself in the mirror, she smiled.  She didn’t say anything, but I knew she liked how she looked.

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 39
Grandmother Meets Angela

By Sasha

I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for Angela to meet Grandmother, considering the reason for their connection.  However, Angela was insistent, and I knew there was nothing I could say to change her mind.

In just a few days, Grandmother had improved significantly.  Noise frightened her less.  She was sleeping much better, and her English was improving daily.  She loved her new haircut and continually looked at herself in the mirror, always smiling.

It was almost 9:00 and I impatiently waited for Dr. Smith to do his morning rounds.  I wanted to know the results of the multitude of tests they had done on Grandmother.  I was surprised to see Angela enter the room.  I wasn’t expecting her until 10:00.  I hadn’t had a chance to tell Grandmother she was going to have a visitor.

Not sure where to start or what to say, I simply blurted out, “Grandmother, I would like you to meet a dear friend of mine.  Her name is Angela.”

I stepped back giving both some space to talk with a little privacy.  Grandmother smiled, extended her hand, and said, “How nice to meet one of James’s friends.”

Angela took her hand and said, “I am so pleased to meet you too.”

I silently prayed Alicia’s name would not be mentioned.

Grandmother seemed sincerely happy to meet Angela.  Maybe it was the similarity in their ages.  Grandmother giggled and asked, “How do you like my hair?  Yesterday James had them cut it all off.”

Angela gently stroked Grandmother’s hair.  ”I think you look lovely.”

Grandmother smiled and asked, “How did you and James become friends?”

I could feel my heart race frantically, not knowing what Angela would say.

Angela sat on the side of Grandmother’s bed and held both of her hands gently in hers.  With tears streaming down her cheeks she said, “James is your grandson.  He is the one who found Alicia grave.  Alicia was my granddaughter.”

Grandmother’s bottom lip began to quiver as she searched for what to say.

Obviously aware of the shock and shame Grandmother felt knowing who she was, Angela took the lead.  “Please don’t cry, and please don’t apologize.  I am here to thank you.”

Grandmother wiped the tears from her eyes.  She looked confused. “Why would you want to thank me?”

“Because you cared for her when she was all alone.  Did you know yellow was her favorite color?  I am sure the yellow roses gave her hope that she would be found.”

Grandmother continued to cry.  “Thank you for not hating me. Alexandru was a stranger to me. Dark taught him to hate me.  He was never allowed to show me any affection, and if I showed Alexandru any, Dark would beat me.”

Angela put her arms around Grandmother and whispered into her ear, “How could I possibly hate the person who cared for my granddaughter?” God answered my prayers and blessed you with a kind and generous heart.”

Again, Grandmother looked confused.  “Who is God?  Is he your grandson like James is mine?”

The reality of the dark empty world Grandmother lived in became too much to bear.  With tears in my eyes, I turned, and left the room to allow them privacy to talk.
 
 
* * * * * * * * *
 
 
Fortunately, Dr. Smyth was late, giving Angela and Grandmother a few precious minutes to talk.  He entered the room followed by a large group of residents, interns, and medical students.  Harborview is a teaching hospital and is known to be one of the best in the country.  Many patients do not like being seen by so many at one time.  Grandmother liked the attention.

“Good morning, Alfina.  How are you feeling today?”

“I feel very good.  I have a new friend, her name is Angela, and she is the grandmother of Alicia, the young girl my son Alexandru killed.”

The bluntness of Grandmother caught Dr. Smyth off guard.  Not sure what to say, he stuttered and simply said, “Hello, Angela, it is nice to meet you.”

Eager to move past the awkwardness of the situation, Dr. Smyth began telling her about the results of the tests they ran.

“Your foot has been seriously damaged. The orthopedic surgeon that looked at your foot says it can be partially repaired with surgery.  You will be able to walk, but a cane will always be necessary.  The dietitian has prepared a special diet for you, which should get your weight back up where it belongs.  You will require physical therapy every day to build up your muscles and physical strength.”

I could tell Grandmother didn’t understand anything Dr. Smyth said.  Angela patted Grandmother on the shoulder and said, “I’ll explain it all to you later.”

With a sigh of relief, Grandmother said, “Thank you.”

I decided to leave Grandmother in the hands of Angela.  I still had to meet with Mom and figure out how to tell Susan and Charlie about Grandmother. I still planned to meet with Mac and Mr. Hurley this afternoon.  It was going to be another long and tedious day.
 

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 40
Why Did Alfina Lie?

By Sasha

Before leaving, I made a quick trip up to the ninth floor to speak with Dr. Williams. I abruptly asked him, “When do you think Mom will be ready to come home?”
 
“Assuming the meeting with Alfina goes well, I think both Susan and your mother can go home on Saturday.”
 
“So, you think Susan will want to see her grandmother?  Do you remember telling her she was going home on Friday?  Does Susan know she has to wait one more day?”
 
Dr. Williams sighed softly and then shook his head. “Dr. Perez and I have spoken with Susan and informed her it would be best if she stayed here one more day.”
 
“I’m sure she wasn’t happy hearing that.  Did you tell her why?”
 
Again, Dr. Williams shook his head.  “James, Susan is extremely angry with your father, but she is also terribly defensive of him.  She hates what he did, but her love for him has not diminished.  I am concerned about how she will react to hearing about her father’s cruel childhood and that his mother is alive.”
 
I agreed.  Susan was Dad’s little princess.  He may have been over protective, but he worshiped her as much as she worshiped him.  “Dr. Williams, can I ask you a question?”
 
“Sure, James, ask me anything.”
 
“Dad is a narcissistic sociopath and is incapable of caring for anyone other than himself. If this is true, can you explain his obsession with Susan?”

“James, the term antisocial is over used and completely misunderstood.  Not all persons with antisocial disorder have all the criteria listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.  Some, including myself, feel that, in the attempt to rely only on objective criteria, the DSM has been broadened to include too many individuals.  The antisocial personality disorder category includes people who commit illegal, immoral or self-serving acts for a variety of reasons and are not necessarily psychopaths.”

 
While Dr. Williams’s response didn’t really answer my question, I wasn’t in the mood to pursue it any further.  I said, “Goodbye” and headed to Mr. Hurley’s office for my meeting with him and Mac.

 
* * * * * * * * * *
Mr. Hurley looked pleased with himself when I entered his office.  He sat in his high back leather chair, puffing on a smelly cigar, and sipping his coffee like it was 200 year-old cognac.  “Good afternoon, James.  How are you on this fine summer afternoon?”

Before I could answer, the door swung open, and Mac entered carrying a large stack of manila folders.  His mood was the opposite of Mr. Hurley’s.  “For God’s sake, Tom, put that foul smelling thing out before I choke to death.”
 
Mac dropped the files onto Mr. Hurley’s desk with a loud thud.  He stumbled over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup.  Only after he sat down did he acknowledge I was in the room.  “Hello, James, hope your day is going better than mine.”
 
Feeling as if I was in a Laurel and Hardy movie, I laughed and said, “I’d like to say it is, but something tells me it’s going to get worse.”
 
Mr. Hurley did as instructed and put out his smelly cigar.  His it’s a perfect day expression disappeared too.  “Mac, what’s wrong with you?”
 
Mac took a big gulp of coffee.  He placed the cup on the edge of Mr. Hurley’s desk, and slumped back into his chair.  “We have a tremendous problem, guys.”
 
I had no idea what Mac was talking about.  Mr. Hurley leaned forward, patted Mac on the shoulder, and said, “Take a deep breath, relax, and start at the beginning.”
 
Mac let out a loud moan and looking at me, said, “I just finished talking to the medical examiner, and Alfina’s story doesn’t match his findings.  It seems Dark WAS hit on the head, but that's not what killed him. The medical examiner found a stab wound to the chest was the fatal wound.”
 
Mac paused to catch his breath.  “Do you know what this means?  If Alfina murdered Dark, she is in a shit load of trouble.  Her credibility is down the drain if she lied about how he died.  The defense can claim she is unreliable, a liar, possibly a murderer and any testimony against your dad about Alicia’s death will be worthless.”
 
I was unprepared for what Mac was saying.  If Grandmother lied, I was sure there was a reason.  But my opinion didn't matter.  I looked at Mr. Hurley in the hope he would have something to say that would help.  Unfortunately, he looked as shocked as I felt.
 
“Okay, Mac, what’s next?”
 
“Snohomish County is going to want to talk to her again.”
 
Suddenly, Mr. Hurley spoke up.  “Have you forgotten that I am the family attorney and no one interrogates Alfina until I talk to her first?”
 
With his elbows resting on his knees, Mac rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.  “Let’s hope you can get the right answers from her…  Otherwise, we’re screwed.”
 
Mr. Hurley started barking orders. “Mac, you need to get me copies of the Medical Examiner’s Report, Alfina’s statement to the police and any other information on Dark and Alexandru you can. I don’t care how you do it I need it yesterday.  I can’t talk to Alfina blind.  I need to know exactly what she said before I talk to her.”
 
Mr. Hurley turned and pointed at me.  “James, you need to talk to her psychiatrist and find out if she’s nuts, in shock, especially what he considers her mental age level?  After being on her own for so long with that lunatic, I doubt she’s had any education, or experience interacting with society.  But most important, you need to be there with me when I talk to her.”
 
Mac got up and left without saying a word.  I told Mr. Hurley all that I knew about Alfina and that I didn’t think she was crazy, just socially inept.
 
“James, do you know why she would lie about Dark’s death?”
 
“The only thing I can think of is fear of punishment.  If it’s something else, I couldn’t say what it is.”
 
Mr. Hurley obviously had his work cut out for him. Watching the chubby little man ruffle through law books and all while writing frantically on a yellow pad of paper, impressed me.  He seemed to know what he was doing, even if I didn’t.

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His eidetic memory* has turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 41
Family Meeting

By Sasha

Mom was in the psychiatric ward two floors up.  Just like Susan’s ward, it was locked.  I pressed the button and was let in by a young nurse who asked for my identification and the name of the person I was there to see.  When I told her I was there for a family conference with Mom, I was quickly ushered into the conference room at the end of the hall. 
 
Aunt Em, Uncle Terry and Charlie were already seated at the table.  Uncle Terry, not one to avoid confrontation, didn’t wait for me to sit down before asking, “James, we haven’t heard from you for nearly thirty-six hours.  Where have you been and what have you been doing?”
 
Charlie, in an apparent sarcastic mood, didn’t wait for me to answer before adding, “You’ve been playing detective with Mac, haven’t you?”
 
Despite feeling defensive, I simply smiled and nodded.  “Can’t fool you, can I, little brother?”
 
Not seeing the humor in my response, Uncle Terry snapped his fingers to get my attention.  “Why did Mr. Hurley ask for this meeting?  James, just tell us what the hell is going on.”
 
Knowing Mom and Dr. Williams would be arriving at any moment, I began to speak as fast as I could about the police identifying Alicia’s body and that Alfina, our grandmother, was also found living on the property.  All three just stared at me in complete shock.   Finally, after several very long seconds, Charlie said, in a soft voice, “Dad’s mother has been living on Dad’s father’s property all this time?  How is that possible?”
 
I looked at Aunt Em and then at Charlie.  “Charlie, it’s a long story that began with a journal Aunt Em and Mom had that belonged to Dad’s father.  The journal is written in Romani an ancient form of Romanian.  Romani is the language of the gypsies, related to Sanskrit, which is an Indo-European language that came from India with the gypsies when they started their westward trek…  Sorry, I know I am starting to ramble.  It took me two days to translate it.  It is written by Dad’s father, Adain Popescu better known as Dark.  He tells about kidnapping a young girl in 1935, so he could raise her to be the mother of his children.  But she died in 1939 in childbirth.  Her name was Alfina.  Alfina 2 was kidnapped in 1940, as a replacement for Alfina 1 and gave birth to a baby girl in 1945.  The baby was later named Alfina 3.  Alfina 2 died in 1948 in childbirth.  Alfina 3 is our grandmother.  She gave birth to Dad in 1957.  Dad’s real name is Alexandru Popescu.”
 
Charlie rolled his eyes and released a painful sounding moan.  “James this is all just too confusing.  When did Dad become John Mathews?  Who gave Mom the journal? And, where is grandmother?”
 
I ignored the first two questions and told Charlie, “Grandmother is here at Harborview.  I just left her with Angela Campbell, Alicia’s grandmother.  Dr. Williams is also her psychiatrist.”
 
Charlie just shook his head. “Why would Alicia’s grandmother want anything to do with the wife of the man who killed her granddaughter?”
 
I knew this was not the time to tell Charlie that Dad killed Alicia.  This was a lot of information to digest, and I knew a thousand questions were lining up in his head, each fighting for first place on the list of what to ask next.

“Angela Campbell is a remarkable woman.  She does not hate Grandmother.  She knows about Dark’s cruelty and the terrible life Grandmother was forced to live.  We could all take a lesson from her compassion.  Charlie, let’s just take it one day at a time.  Grandmother has been through a living hell and the fact that she survived is nothing less than a miracle.  I promise all your questions will be answered, but I can’t handle all of them right now.”
 
As if suddenly roused from a deep sleep, Aunt Em spoke.  “Martha and I knew about John’s ugly childhood, his cruel father but nothing about his mother.  Neither of us could read the journal, and to be honest we didn’t want to know what was in it—and for that I am so, so sorry.”

Aunt Em burst into tears.  Uncle Terry cradled her and reassured her.  “Sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong.”



Charlie sat slumped in his chair, staring off into space.  The door suddenly opened and Mom and Dr. Williams entered the room.

 
* * * * * * * * *
 
Mom looked a lot better than she did the last time I saw her.  She looked rested, relaxed and had an enormous smile on her face.  She gave Aunt Em, Charlie, Uncle Terry and me a hug before sitting down.  I didn’t know what Dr. Williams had told Mom about Grandmother.  I decided it was best to be direct.
 
“Dr. Williams, have you had a chance to speak with Mom about recent events?”

Mom answered.  “Yes, James.  He has told me all about Alfina.  That poor woman has been living out there alone all this time.”

I felt a wave of relief softly sweep over me knowing I didn’t have to go through the whole story again.  I was also pleased to hear Mom’s compassionate words.
 
“Dr. Williams.  When do you think Grandmother would be up for a family visit?”
 
Dr. Williams smiled. “Alfina is pretty weak right now. Give her a few days to build her strength.  I’m sure meeting her grandchildren will do a lot for her mental health.  Just remember, she has been alone most of her life, and I don’t want to overwhelm her with too much too soon.”
 

“Dr. Williams, one last thing.  What about Susan.  I think it would be best if you and Dr. Perez told her about Grandmother while she is still in the hospital.”
 
Dr. Williams agreed. 

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him. This is a complicated chapter. I would appreciate any suggestions on how to make it less complicated.

Chapter 42
Preparing Grandmother

By Sasha

The office door opened with a loud bang as it slammed against the wall.  Mac entered, red-faced, and panting.  He handed Mr. Hurley several folders before sitting down to catch his breath.  “You really have to get someone to fix that damn elevator, Tom.”
 
Mr. Hurley ignored Mac’s comment and immediately began reading the first folder.  I didn’t know what he was reading but could see the label on the edge read, “Adain Popescu AKA Dark”.  He quickly flipped through several pages before speaking. “This is interesting.  The ME describes several deep knife wounds to the chest, in addition to the blow to the head.  The person wielding the knife would have to be pretty strong to penetrate the ribcage.”
 
Mac seemed to know what Mr. Hurley was talking about.  “That could only mean he was unconscious when she stabbed him.”
 
Mr. Hurley nodded.  “But why did Alfina lie about stabbing him?  I find it unlikely that anyone else was there…”
 
Mr. Hurley slid into silence as he thought about Dark’s death.  “Is it possible that someone else killed him?”
 
Mac quickly responded, “Only someone that he knew could get that close to him.  Possibly someone that Alfina would want to protect.”
 
Both Mac and Mr. Hurley looked at me.   I knew what they were thinking, and they were right.  Dad was the only other person that could have gotten close enough to Dark to attack him.  “But why would Grandmother try to protect Dad?”
 
Mr. Hurley rubbed his forehead with his pudgy hand.  “Only Alfina can answer that question.”

Mac bowed his head and said, “James, you may be the only person that can get your grandmother to tell you what really happened, and you need to get to her before the Snohomish Police do.
 
Mr. Hurley agreed.  “We also have to prove she is not crazy.  The defense will do its best to prove that she is nothing more than a wild animal after spending a lifetime in captivity.  With no education and no contact with the outside world, it will be difficult to prove she has the mental capacity to understand right from wrong. Her credibility is shaky at best.”  Mr. Hurley paused briefly to collect his thoughts.  “We have to be careful.  Although I am sure the defense will challenge her sanity, we don’t want to open a can of worms.”
 
He paused again, weighing his words carefully.  “I know Dr. Williams.  He is a top rated and well-respected psychiatrist.  The defense will want to use one of their psychiatrists, but Dr. Williams’s evaluation will be hard to refute.”
 
I couldn’t remain silent any longer.  “What if Dr. Williams says Grandmother is crazy?”
 
The look on Mr. Hurley’s face told me he disagreed.  “James, do you think she’s crazy?”
 
“No, I don’t.  But no one cares what I think.”
 
Mac laughed.  “That would be a first for you, wouldn’t it?”
 
Mr. Hurley laughed too, but I didn’t find the comment amusing.  “Very funny, guys, very funny.”
 
I quickly brought the subject back to Dad.  “What motive would Dad have to kill Dark?”
 
Mr. Hurley sighed and said, “The ME’s report estimates the time of death as between three and five years and Alfina told the police that she witnessed your Dad kill Alicia…  Alicia went missing five years ago.  There is no way John would take her to the cabin unless he already knew Dark wouldn’t be there.  What we need to find out is, whether or not John knew that his mother was still living there.”
 
“I don’t think Dad knew she was there.  There is no way he would leave behind a witness, even if it was his mother.”
 
Mac agreed.  “If Alicia died five years ago, Dark had to already be dead.  That means Alfina has been living in the shadows for a long time. It is definitely possible your Dad did not know she was still there.”
 
“Mac, Dad left more than twenty-five years ago.  I doubt he would recognize Alfina after so long.”
 
Mac nodded.  “All the more reason to believe she was hiding, even from him.”
 
Mr. Hurley chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds.  “If we can pin Dark’s murder, as well as Alicia, on your Dad, the Snohomish County DA will go for the maximum.”
 
In a concerned voice, Mac asked, “James, can you live with that?”
 
I was getting tired of everyone placing Dad’s punishment on my shoulders.  “Listen, guys, I am not trying to get Dad executed.  I just want him to face the legal system.  The system can decide what the punishment should be. No more plea bargains.   That’s all I want.”
 
Still concerned, Mac asked, “Will your family see it the same way?  If he gets the death penalty, will they blame you?”
 
“The person they need to blame is, Dad.  He’s the murderer, not me.  I’ll deal with my family when the time comes.”
 
I turned and looked at Mr. Hurley, “Shouldn’t we get over to the hospital before the Snohomish Police gets to her?  They’ll scare the shit out of her.”
 
“Yes, I need to speak with Dr. Williams too.  Mac, I want you to go back over all these files and see what you can find.”
 
“Sure thing, Tom.

 
I turned and followed Mr. Hurley out the door.  When we walked past the elevators and toward the stairs, I couldn’t resist saying, “You know you do need to get that damn thing fixed.”

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His eidetic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him. Sorry for the delay in posting this. I've had the flu.

Chapter 43
Time to Talk to Grandmother

By Sasha

Author Note:

James asks the tough questions

Mr. Hurley told me to go on ahead to Grandmother’s room while he found Dr. Williams and Dr. Smyth.  Still unsure of what I was going to say to Grandmother, the giant knot in my stomach did a back flip sending a sharp, stabbing pain up into my throat.  As I entered Grandmother’s room, I could see she was sleeping with her tiny body curled into a fetal position.  Angela sat snoozing loudly in the chair beside her.  I couldn’t help but smile, seeing the two most unlikely friends sleeping soundly with smiles on their faces.  They looked so content I didn’t want to wake them.  I turned to leave when Angela’s gentle voice startled me.
 
“Just where do you think you’re going, young man?”
 
I placed my finger against my lips and softly whispered, “Shush.  Don’t wake Grandmother, she needs her sleep.”  I signaled with a wave of my hand for her to follow me into the hallway.  Just like Grandmother, I didn’t handle social situations particularly well.  But until Dad’s arrest, stress had never been a problem.  I leaned against the wall, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.
 
“James, what’s wrong?  You look terrible.”
 
“I have to talk to Grandmother.  The police have questions about her statement that don’t agree with the evidence.  That makes her testimony about seeing Dad kill Alicia, shaky, to say the least.  In addition to casting doubt on her credibility, her sanity may become an issue.  I honestly don’t know how to talk to her without upsetting her.  I am concerned that her English isn't that great, and she just won't understand.”
 
I paused, took another deep breath and then blurted out, “There is a real possibility she may not have killed Dark.  Mac and Mr. Hurley now think Dad may have killed him.  Dark didn’t die from a blow to the head.  He was stabbed in the chest.  That takes a lot of strength; strength Grandmother just doesn’t have.”
 
Angela put her arms around me and whispered into my ear, “James, Alfina isn’t crazy.  She’s just overwhelmed and frightened.  And don't worry about her English.  We've been talking non-stop and her English is just a little rusty.”
 
I stared into Angela’s big blue eyes and wondered where her remarkable strength came from.  My father brutally killed her granddaughter, yet she felt no animosity or hatred toward my family or me.  Her concern for Grandmother was sincere.  She has remained by her side since meeting her yesterday.  Now she is defending her.
 
I felt tears well up in my eyes.  The weight of the horrific damage Dad and Dark’s evil caused everyone they touched was crushing me.  I slowly slid down the wall and sat on the floor, desperately fighting the need to scream. However, all I could do was cry.  Cry for the victims, the families of the victims, Angela, Grandmother, Mom, Susan, and Charlie.  None of us would ever be the same.  I buried my face in my hands and sobbed silently.
 
Angela sat down beside me.  She laid my head onto her lap and gently stroked my brow.  “James, you can’t do everything.  I know it has only been a day, but Alfina and I have become friends.  She trusts me.  Let me help.”
 
Angela handed me a handkerchief and told me, “Now blow your nose and wipe those tears off your face, young man.  You don’t want to scare your grandmother, do you?”
 
I did as I was told.  Angela ran her fingers through my hair then took my hand, and we walked back into the room.  I was surprised to see Grandmother sitting up.  When she saw me, she began waving her hands wildly with excitement.  “Hello, James, hoping I was to see you today.”
 
I pushed passed the fear telling me to run away and forced myself to smile.  “Hello, Grandmother, how are you feeling today?”
 
“I sleep good.  I cannot count the number of plantings that passed since I sleep in bed.  And the food here is… ...is...  James, cumspun, delicioase?
 
I couldn’t help but smile.  “Grandmother, you think hospital food is delicious?”
 
Grandmother giggled, “Da, the food is delicioase. All people here so kind to me. Mai alesprietenul meunou, Angela.”
 
“I am pleased you have a new friend too, Grandmother.”

Grandmother leaned over and gave Angela a hug, then patted the bed several times.  “James, sit, sit.  Cândpoatem-am întâlnitderestulfamiliei?"

I wasn’t prepared for her question.  Again, I just smiled.  “Soon, Grandmother, I promise you will meet the rest of the family soon.”
 
At least that was what I hoped.  Despite Dr. Williams’s assurance, I hadn’t heard a definite yes from Susan yet.  A nurse entered the room, she replaced the empty IV’s with new ones, took Grandmother’s temperature, and told her dinner would be served soon.
 
Just like a little child at Christmas, Grandmother giggled.
 
Without warning, Angela took hold of Alfina’s hand and said, “James has some questions for you.  Don’t be alarmed by them, he has been terribly busy working with the police and that lovely man I told you about, Mr. Hurley.  Just remember, it is extremely important you answer them as honestly as you can.  Do you understand what I mean when I say honest?”
 
“Da.  My English speaking no good, but I understand.  I understand honest.  Dark become with me very, very angry when he think I not be honest.  It be okay, James, ask me questions.”
 
“Grandmother, before I ask them, I need to explain a few things to you.  If you don’t understand what I am saying, just tell me and I will try to be clearer, or speak in Romani.  Okay?”
 
Grandmother nodded.

As I spoke to Grandmother, I switched from English to Romani when the confused expression on her face told me she did not understand.  When answering, she did the same.
 
“There are laws to protect people.  The police rely on the truth to do their job.  Laws are a lot like rules.  I am sure Dark had lots of rules.”
 
Grandmother stopped smiling and just nodded.
 
“Well Dark’s rules are different than real laws.  Laws are rules that all the people must obey.  There are laws against stealing, or taking something that does not belong to you.  There are laws against hurting someone.  Many things Dark did may have been his rules, but he was breaking the law.  When he hurt you, he was breaking the law.  Do you understand what I am saying?”
 
“Da.”
 
“Killing someone is against the law, and lying to a police officer is against the law.  It is always important to tell the truth, no matter how hard it may be.”
 
Grandmother’s bottom lip began to quiver.  She pulled her knees up to her chest.  “I be sorry.  I no want to lie, but the policeman make me afeard.  I afeard to tell them too much.”
 
“It’s okay, Grandmother.  We all get scared and confused.  I want to ask you some questions and hope you will trust me and tell me the truth.  Is that okay?”
 
Grandmother relaxed her grip on her legs and nodded.
 
“How did Dark die and when did he die?”
 
“James, I can count but time is hard for me.  Dark taught me the seasons, but I no read one of your fancy clocks and have no need for a watch.  I only know when it be morning, afternoon, or night.  I know when it be time to plant garden, time to pick the fruit, time to prepare the garden for the next planting, and when it be too cold to go outside.  It was five plantings past, that Alexandru came back.  He and Dark have terrible fight.  I hear loud screaming, punching, and even broken furniture.  I hide in the shed behind the house, but I still hear them yelling.  Then quiet it suddenly become.  Alexandru no know I was in the shed, and when he come out to the backyard, I am afeard.  That is when I knew something mighty bad happened.  He washed much blood off his hands and face at the pump and then go back into the house.  I stay in shed for a long, long time, way past dark before I go inside to go see what happened.”
 
“Grandmother, how do you know it was Alexandru?”
 
Grandmother’s lip began to quiver again.  “James, a mother always know her child.”
 
“What did you find when you went back inside the cabin?”
 
“It was tore up something terrible.  Dark he be on the floor, he be dead.  There be blood everywhere.  I think Alexandru hit him on the head with a piece of broken chair.”
 
“Why do you say that?”
 
“There be a chair leg on the floor beside his head and it covered in blood.”
 
“How did you manage burying him?  You’re so small and he was so much bigger.”
 
Grandmother shrugged. “I no plant him.  Alexandru came back the next morning to plant him and clean up cabin.  I hear him coming and I hide inside shed again.”
 
“Why didn’t you tell this to the police?”
 
“It be a long time since Dark allow me to speak English.  I afeard.  I know if I tell police Alexandru killed Dark, he would come after me.  I afeard he hurt me.  I know not until I talk to you, Alexandru be in jail and no can hurt me. James, I sorry I lie, I just afeard.”
 
“It’s okay, Grandmother.  I understand.  Now, I have some more questions for you about the girl Alexandru killed.”
 
Grandmother looked at Angela and in a voice shaking with shame said, “I afeard of him. I can no stop him.  I want to help, I really do, but Alexandru kill me too if he know I be watching.”
 
Grandmother paused a few seconds and then continued.  “Alexandru planted her in the rose garden.  I plant yellow rose so the child know someone care she be there.  I no know her name until yesterday.”
 
Angela patted Grandmother’s hand and said, “Alfina, no one blames you.  I know there was nothing you could do.”
 
“Was that the first time Dad brought someone to the cabin?”
 
“Da.  That be the only time he come back after killing Dark.”
 
“When was that, do you remember?”
 
Grandmother closed her eyes for a few seconds to think.  “Dark die when the snow begin to melt.  So it be near the time of planting Alexandru bring poor young girl to the cabin.”
 
Alicia went missing in May 2006 so that meant Dark died around February 2006.  The snow lasted through the middle of February.  I planned to double check the weather reports, but I distinctly remember it snowing until mid February 2006.
 
Grandmother looked very tired, and I thought it best to let her eat her dinner and get some rest.  I wanted to talk to Mr. Hurley and Dr. Williams before I left.  I kissed Grandmother on the cheek and promised to come back in the morning.  Angela walked me to the door.
 
“Angela, I know that had to be hard for you, I am so sorry.”
 
“James, I’ve waited five long years to know what happened to my granddaughter.  Believe me when I say I am stronger than you think."

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His eidetic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him. Let me know if you feel the dialogue between James and his grandmother needs improvement.

Chapter 44
Putting The Puzzle Together

By Sasha

Author Note:

Alfina has a friend

Angela gave me a hug and then returned to be with Grandmother.  I could see Mr. Hurley standing at the nurse’s station down the hall, talking with Dr. Williams.  As I approached, Dr. Williams extended his hand and said, “Hello, James, how’d it go with Alfina?”
 
Unsure of what I should or should not say, I responded with, “Pretty good.  She looks a lot better today than she did yesterday.”
 
“We have Angela to thank for most of her amazing progress.  Alfina was nothing more than a hungry, frightened little mouse when she arrived.  Angela is an angel.  She and Alfina bonded instantly.  Under ordinary circumstances, I would insist visitors leave when visiting hours are over, but it seems Angela has become the one and only stable relationship Alfina has ever had.  It is quite amazing to watch them talk and laugh.  They are like a couple of teenagers on a sleepover.”

Dr. Williams suddenly laughed.  "Do you know what Mrs. Campbell did last night?  I walked into the room after dinner and found her reading The Three Little Pigs to Alfina.  Alfina's eyes were as big as saucers as she flipped through the pages.  As soon as Angela was finished, Alfina begged her to read it again. She is like an eager child ready to soak up everything she comes in contact with.  I can't wait to find out what Angela is going to read to her tonight."

Knowing Grandmother was in such capable hands gave me hope that she would get through this.
 
“Dr. Williams, what is my grandmother’s prognosis?  Will she ever adapt to living in today’s world?”
 
Dr. Williams smiled reassuringly.  “Yesterday I would have said that is doubtful.  But your grandmother is incredibly intelligent, and I believe in a year she will be well adjusted, and with intensive therapy, she should be on her way to a full recovery from the emotional scars from living like an animal all her life.  The brutality of Dark has left many physical scars too.  Only time can tell us how long it will take for them to heal.”
 
“When will she have surgery on her foot?”
 
“Not until she is physically stronger; probably in a week of two.”
 

“Will she be able to testify against my father, in a court, in front of a room full of strangers?”
 
Again, Dr. Williams smiled.  “Alfina is easily frightened and it doesn’t take much to overwhelm her.  As long as the process is thoroughly explained to her and you and Angela are in the front row, I am comfortable in predicting she will do fine.”
 
Mr. Hurley signaled with a subtle jerk of his head that he wanted to speak with me privately.  We said goodbye to Dr. Williams and walked toward the elevator.  I was a little irritated with Mr. Hurley.  “I wasn’t done talking with Dr. Williams.  I had questions about Mom and Susan.”
 
“James, you can do that later. Right now, I need to know what she told you.  We don’t have much time.  Dr. Williams has agreed not to allow the Snohomish police to speak with Alfina unless you and I are present.
 
I had to laugh.  “You better include Angela.  Without her, I doubt Grandmother will cooperate.  They are like two peas in a pod; neither goes anywhere without the other.”
 
Mr. Hurley grinned.  “That could work to our advantage.  Let’s get a cup of coffee, and you can fill me in on what she told you.”

 
* * * * * * * * * *

 
My stomach wasn’t in the mood for coffee, so I got a large glass of milk instead.  Mr. Hurley and I went outside of the cafeteria and sat on a bench on the patio.
 
I took a sip of milk, and then told Mr. Hurley what I learned.  “You and Mac were right.  Grandmother didn’t kill Dark, Dad did.  He was killed around mid-February 2006.  Grandmother was hiding in the shed, but she heard the fight.  Dad left, and then came back the next morning and cleaned up the cabin and buried Dark.  Alicia disappeared in May 2006, which coincides with what Grandmother said.  Dad didn’t know Grandmother was there.  She was out back in the shed and heard the murder.  She says she lied to the police about killing Dark because she was afraid Dad would come back and kill her.”
 
I paused to take another sip of milk.  “I honestly think Dad thinks Grandmother is dead.  I also think that Alicia was Dad’s first victim and the only one he knew.  He couldn’t chance leaving her body in Belltown because of his connection to her.  Grandmother says she never saw Dad again, so it is unlikely he took any of the other twelve victims to the cabin.  Of course, six acres covers a lot of property, and it is possible, he found another secluded spot to kill them.”
 
Mr. Hurley shook his head.  “He could have buried them anywhere on the property. Why dump them in a public place?”
 
“Dad has an enormous ego.  I am sure he thought he was too smart to get caught.  Playing a game with the police was just his way of toying with them.”
 
“Did Alfina say why your dad went to the cabin the first time?  There had to be a reason.  I am sure he didn’t show up out of curiosity.”
 
I looked at Mr. Hurley and grinned.  “Maybe he was searching for the journal.”
 
Mr. Hurley nodded.  “That’s a piece of evidence he wouldn’t want anyone to read.”
 
 “Have you talked to Mac?  Maybe he has found something that will give us another piece of the puzzle.”
 
Mr. Hurley said, “No.  I’ll meet with him later tonight.”
 
I looked at Mr. Hurley and asked, "What did Dr. Williams say about the defense trying to say Grandmother is crazy?"

Mr. Hurley smiled, "He says that will not be a problem.  In fact, he said, in his opinion the jury will not only find her credible, but fall in love with her."

Mr. Hurley and I climbed into a taxi in front of the hospital.  We sat silently for several minutes.  I thought about Grandmother and suddenly started to laugh.  “You know, Mr. Hurley, I've always wondered where my red hair came from, now I know."
 
Mr. Hurley gave me a friendly punch in the arm.  “James, something tells me that’s not all you got from your grandmother.”

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His eidetic memory* has turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 45
Grandmother Tells a Joke

By Sasha

Saturday morning came all too soon.  Mom and Susan were scheduled to be released after a mandatory family meeting with Dr. Williams at Harborview.  Marilyn and Susan were already sitting at the table in the conference room when I arrived.  As expected, Susan looked great.  She wore a yellow dress with tiny daisies.  Her hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail at her neck.  Anxious to go home, she sat fidgeting with a pencil.  She looked like a nervous canary sitting in an open window ready to take flight.
 
Before I had an opportunity to say hello, the door opened and Dr. Williams, Mom, Charlie, and to my surprise, Angela and Alfina, sitting in a wheelchair, also entered the room.  Unprepared for either Angela or Alfina, I remained silent as I tried to understand what Dr. Williams was up to.  I didn’t have long to wait.  Dr. Williams immediately began to speak.
 
“After talking with Mrs. Campbell and Angela, we decided it was best to conduct the first family reunion here, under my guidance.  All of you have been through a horrific experience.  One that few are experienced to deal with.  This is why one of my stipulations for discharge is that you all participate in therapy as a group, twice a week.  I will leave it up to you to decide whether or not to include Angela.  However, I personally encourage you to do so.”
 
Dr. Williams paused long enough for everyone to absorb what he just said.  Susan looked confused, and Charlie had his usual I am pissed expression on his face.  Mom was smiling and holding Grandmother's hand.  Grandmother looked terrified.
 
Aware of the tension in the room, Dr. Williams continued.  ”The connection between each of you is directly linked to John Mathews, also known as Alexandru Propescu. Martha, you are John’s wife; James, Charlie and Susan you are his children.  Angela, you are the grandmother of Alicia, one of the young girls John murdered. And lastly, Alfina you are Aleksandru’s mother and sister, Martha's mother-in-law and sister-in-law, and James, Charlie, and Susan's Aunt and Grandmother.”
 
Alfina feigned a brief smile.  Dr. Williams stared at all of us before continuing. 

“Your grandfather, Adian Propescu, also known as Dark, was a mysterious and evil man.  Almost nothing is known about him; where he came from or who his parents are.  However, his cruelty knew no limits.  Susan, I noticed you wince when I said Alfina was your grandmother.  Charlie, your face showed anger.  I must ask, is your anger directed toward your grandfather or toward Alfina?”
 
Both Charlie and Susan blushed.  Charlie said, “It is embarrassing that my grandfather had sex with his daughter.”  Susan nodded agreement with Charles’s comment.
 
Your grandfather was mentally deranged.  He kidnapped the first potential mother of his children in 1935.  He named her Alfina.  Alfina died in childbirth in 1940.  The baby was stillborn.  Dark kidnapped the second child in 1940 and it is assumed she was about eight years old.  He named her Alfina 2.  Alfina 2 gave birth to a baby girl on June 21, 1945.  Dark wanted to kill the child but Alfina 2 talked him out of it by promising a boy child the next time she became pregnant.  She kept her promise and in 1948 gave birth to a boy, but he and his mother died a few hours after he was born.  Dark decided to use the girl child that was now three years old as the mother of his next child.  He named her Alfina 3, your grandmother.  We do not know why he named all three Alfina.
 
Alfina 3 was forced to live in a small shed behind the cabin.  Her job was to cook, hunt, clean, and feed Dark.  She was not allowed to speak English and learned Romani, a not well-known gypsy form of Romanian.  Alfina never went to school.  She never had other children to play or communicate with and never received any form of kindness or affection from Dark.  In 1957, Alfina gave birth to a healthy baby boy, named Alexandru Propescu, your father. 
 
The day he was born, Dark took him from Alfina.  She was not allowed to care for him.  Dark raised Alexandru to believe Alfina was his sister and told him his mother died in childbirth.  He was not allowed to speak with Alfina, show her any affection and if he did, they both were severely punished.  Your father was told his sister was a crazy, filthy animal and to be avoided.

Detective Mac is currently looking for information on locating the living relative of Alfinas 1 and 2.  To blame her for giving birth to your father is wrong.  What choice did she have?  Who was she supposed to turn to for help?  I ask that you take all this into consideration when deciding whether to include Alfina into your family.”
 
Aside from the barely audible sobs, the room was silent.  Dr. Williams sat down and patiently waited to see what we would do.
 
Mom hugged Alfina; Charlie stood and extended his hand.  “Hello, Grandma.  I am Charlie, James’s brother and your grandson.
 
Susan got up and walked around the table to where Grandmother was sitting.  She gave Angela a gentle hug, and then turned to face Alfina.  “Hello.  My name is Susan.  I am so proud to be your granddaughter.”
 
Grandmother put her arms around Susan’s neck and gave her a long, and affectionate hug.  Everyone in the room was crying.  Although he tried to maintain his professionalism, I noticed Dr. Williams wipe tears from his eyes.  I was crying too.  For the first time since the day I found the evidence against Dad in the garage, I felt that the family would survive.  We were destined for years of therapy, but we would survive.
 
Angela interrupted to announce, “I’ve been teaching Alfina some nursery rhymes.  I am hoping to teach her how to read too.”
 
Alfina blushed and said, “Da.  My friend teach me many ‘sery rhymes.”
 
Angela looked at Alfina with pride and said, “Why don’t you recite one of your favorites?  I am sure they would love to hear it.”
 
Alfina's cheeks turned bright crimson.  “I no speak good English.  I make many mistakes.”
 
“Alfina, your English is fine.  Don’t be shy; you know you can do it.”
 
“Okay, I try.”
 
Alfina stood and leaning on the table for support began to recite the following:
 
“Humpity Dumpity he sit on a wall
 Humpity Dumpity had a big fall.
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men
Not able to put Humpity Dumpity gether again”
 
Alfina quickly sat down but not before everyone in the room clapped until their hands were tired.
 

Alfina smiled and looked at Dr. Williams.  “Too bad Humpity Dumpity didn’t have Dr. Williams cause he surely wouda fix him up just fine.”
 
Now it was time for Dr. Williams to blush.  We all laughed at Alfina’s amusing joke.
 
I watched everyone laugh and hug as a dark cloud slowly entered the room and hung over me.  The Snohomish County Prosecutor was going to announce the charges against Dad on Monday.  I had no doubt he was also going to announce he would be seeking the death penalty.  I felt certain the family would once again look at me as the bad guy.  I wanted to believe it was over, but reality told me it was not.
 

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His eidetic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 45
Mom Fesses Up

By Sasha

Mac and I stepped into the elevator, and after the doors closed, I turned to face him before asking, “Why do you think people lie?  I’m not referring to the bank robber caught with the money, or the kid at the 7-11 seen on video with his hand in the till. I’m talking about the little white lies that, on the surface, seem pointless.”
 
Unsure why I asked the question, Mac raised his eyebrows and asked, “Why?  Do you have something to tell me?"
 
I laughed out loud.  “No, I’m not trying to confess anything.  I just wonder why people tell so many transparent and unnecessary lies.”
 
 
Still not sure where I was heading, Mac did his best to answer.   “People usually lie for the obvious reason, to hide the truth.  But the seemingly pointless lies are often based on fear, shame and concern they will be judged or misunderstood.”
 
I paused to gather my thoughts.  “Mac, I believe Gradmother is hiding something.  I am concerned about pushing her too hard but I need to know everything she knows.”
 
“James, the only way to find out the answer is to speak to her directly.”
 
“I really hate the idea of doing that.  I’m just beginning to build trust with her and am afraid she’ll see me as the bad guy; everyone sees me as the bad guy.”
 
“James, you’ve just proven my point. Your fear of being perceived as the bad guy is causing you to lie to yourself and to your grandmother by allowing her to think you believe what she is telling you is the whole truth. Take my word for it, false presumption has been the downfall of many a man, and woman.  Don’t let yourself become one of them.”
 
When the elevator door opened, Mac and I stepped off and walked down the hall in silence.  I pressed the button beside the door.  A few seconds later a nurse opened the door and I told her, “We are here to see Martha Mathews.”
 
Mom was sitting in the Day Room waiting for us.  We entered the room, and she immediately stood and said, “Hello.”
 
We hugged and I told her, “How are you doing today? You look great.”
 
Mom smiled.  ''I’m doing fine.  Dr. Williams is marvelous and the nurses have been so kind.  He told me I can go home tomorrow.”
 
Dr. Williams suddenly appeared in the doorway.  “Good morning, James.  Who's your friend?”
 
Mac extended his hand and said, "I’m Detective Mackinnon, but everyone just calls me Mac.”
 
Dr. Williams shook Mac’s hand and before releasing it, he reminded him, “You do know you cannot interrogate Martha as long as she is a patient under psychiatric care.”
 
Mac nodded.  “Yes, I am well aware of the rules.  However, there are no rules preventing her son, James, from asking a few questions.”
 
Dr. Williams smiled. “Would you mind if I stay while he asks his questions?”
 
Mom shook her head. “I don’t really think that’s…”
 
I quickly injected, ''Yes, as a matter of fact, I think that would be a good idea.”
 
My concern over how Mom would react when I asked about Dad worried me.  Having Dr. Williams present to help her deal with the inevitable stress was a must, as far as I was concerned.
 
Looking a little nervous, Mom asked, “James, would you and Mac like a cup of tea or coffee before we begin?”
 
We both declined.  Dr. Williams sat in the large chair next to the door, Mom sat on the couch, and Mac and I sat on the couch by the window.  I felt there was no reason to put off the unavoidable and began to speak.
 
“Mom, are you aware I was able to translate Dad’s father’s journal?”
 
Mom nodded.
 
“Were you told what was in the journal?”
 
Again Mom nodded.  “Yes, Mr. Hurley told me.”
 
“Did he tell you about Alfina, Dad’s mother and sister?”
 
Mom bowed her head as if to hide some unexplained shame. “Yes, he told me she is here and that she told the police that Dad’s father is dead.  She claims to have killed him.  He also told me he didn’t believe she did it, but he believes she is hiding something.”
 
“Did he tell you about Alicia and that Dad killed her?”
 
Mom took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and still refusing to look at me, said, “No, but I believe he did.”
 
“Mac, Mr. Hurley and I suspect Dad went to the cabin to get the journal.  He had to know its contents would make him a suspect.”
 
Mom didn’t respond.
 
“Mom, when you found the journal and confronted Dad with it.  Is that what happened?”
 
Mom sighed again, leaned back, and asked, “James, why is this so important?  What difference does it make?”
 
“Mom, it could explain why Dad went to the cabin and why they fought. Please, tell us where you found the journal.”
 
“Okay, okay.  I found it under the passenger seat of your Dad’s car a few weeks after his father died.  It was in a foreign language and I couldn’t read it.  I was curious so I foolishly asked your dad what it was.  He was drunk, as usual, and he told me it belonged to his father.  That’s when he told me his mother Alfina was also his sister.”
 
Tears began to stream down her cheeks.  “I will never forget the sound of his voice when he told me.  It reeked of cruelty and sarcasm.  He only told me because he knew how I would react.  I was disgusted and horrified.  All he did was laugh.”
 
“Why didn’t he destroy it?  Why did he let you keep it?”
 
“He tossed it into the garbage. I don’t know why, but after he went to bed, I removed it from the garbage and hid it where he couldn’t find it.”
 
Mom looked at me with sad mournful eyes. “When you told me you knew Em and I were keeping a secret, I became frightened.  I didn’t want you, Charlie or Susan to ever learn the truth.”
 
“Why?”
 
Mom hesitated before responding, “You already know he killed those twelve girls. I was afraid you would think he did something to his father to get it.”
 
At that point, Mac joined the conversation.  “So you suspected that John might have killed his father.”
 
Poor Mom looked like a beaten puppy.  “Yes, but only for a few seconds.  I knew he hated his father, but not enough to kill him.”
 
Mac had one last question.  “Did he mention seeing anyone else at the cabin?”
 
“He didn’t talk about anything but the journal.  He didn’t even mention his father.”
 
Dr. Williams stood up and walked over to Mom.  “Would you like to take a break, Martha?”
 
“No, I’m fine.”
 
I got up and walked over and sat beside Mom.  “Other than Aunt Em, did you tell anyone else about the journal?”
 
“No.  There was no reason to.  Then when he was arrested, I just thought it was best to keep that part of his life a secret from you, Charlie and Susan.  Telling you his mother was also his sister seemed pointless.”
 
Mom looked tired but I had one last question.  “Would you like to meet Alfina?  She would like to meet all of the family.
 
"I’m not really sure.  What is she like? I hear she has been living like a wild animal.”
 
I hugged Mom.  “Believe me, you’ll love her.  Everyone who has met her just adores her.  Even Angela, Alicia’s grandmother, has become friends with her.  All I ask is that you at least think about it.  Okay?”

Dr. Williams added, "I am also treating Alfina.  She is delightful, charming, and very, very sweet.  I think it would be a good idea for you to meet her.
 
Mom nodded.

Now, all I had to do was convince Charlie and Susan it was in their best interest to meet Grandmother.


* * * * * * * * * *

Luminiti - Adrian's Mother
Adian Propescu - aka Dark/James' grandfather/John Mathews father
James Mathews  -  18 year old genius
John Martin Mathews  AKA Alexandru Popescu – Father and Serial Killer
Martha Mathews - Mom
Charlie Mathews – Brother 13
Susan Mathews -  Sister 16
Detective MacKinnon  ‘Mac’ – Head of Belltown Killer Task Force
Thomas Hurley – Criminal Attorney representing the family and Alfina
Dr. Perez – Susan’s Psychiatrist
Marcy – James’s ex-girlfriend
Marilyn- Susan’s Day Nurse
Dr. Williams – Mom’s Psychiatrist also Alfina 3’s doctor
Alfina 1 – Kidnapped June 6, 1935  died in childbirth in 1940 –female child stillborn
Alfina 2-  Kidnapped August 15, 1940 age 8 gave birth to Alfina 3 June 21,  1945
                 Alfina 2 died giving birth to stillborn male child in 1948
Alfina 3-  aka Bunica – child of Alfina 2 born in 1945.  In 1957 at age 12 gave birth to Alexandru (Mother of John Mathews)
Alicia Campbell – Babysitter missing for nearly 5 years found buried at the cabin
Angela Campbell- Alicia’s Grandmother
Rachael – Mr. Hurley’s assistant

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His eidetic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 46
Making Vegetable Soup

By Sasha

The sound of the phone ringing woke me from a long overdue deep sleep.  Not happy about being disturbed at 7:30 in the morning, I didn’t hide my displeasure when answering.  “Whoever you are you better have something important to say, or I am hanging up.”
 
“Good morning, James.  Time to get up.  I’m taking Alfina’s deposition today and want you, Mac, and Angela to be there.”
 
“Mr. Hurley, I thought because Grandmother was under psychiatric care no one could interrogate her.”
 
Mr. Hurley laughed.  “James, that’s the beauty of playing the game.  Dr. Williams is a psychiatrist, but Alfina is under the care of Dr. Smyth, an orthopedic surgeon and on the orthopedic ward.”
 
“Doesn’t that mean that Snohomish County Police can also talk to her?”
 
“Yes, but they are under the assumption she is under psychiatric care and haven’t asked to speak with her yet.  Now get up, get dressed and meet me, Mac, and Angela in Alfina’s room at 9:30.”
 
Mr. Hurley hung up the phone without waiting for my answer. Of course, I would be there. Mac and Mr. Hurley were going to ask her some tough questions, and I knew she needed my support.
 
 
* * * * ** * * * *
 
 
I arrived at Grandmother’s room at 9:00.  Mr. Hurley, Mac and Rachael, Mr. Hurley’s assistant were already setting up the video camera and recorder.  I hadn’t seen Rachael since our wild escape from the media at the Holiday Inn.  She was even prettier than I remembered.  My heart skipped a beat when she smiled and said, “Hello, James, how have you been?”
 
Unable to speak, I just smiled.
 
Grandmother was sitting up in her bed enjoying all the attention.  Rachael sat on the bed, held Alfina’s hand, and said, “Mr. Hurley and Mac are going to ask you some questions.  All you have to do is answer them honestly.  If you do not know the answer, just say you don’t know.  Mac or Mr. Hurley will try to make this simple.  Do you understand?”
 
“Da…I mean yes, I understand.”
 
Suddenly, Grandmother saw me standing beside Mac.  “James, how good to see you.  I’m so happy you be here with me.”
 
“It’s good to see you too, Grandmother.”
 
At that moment, Angela appeared with two cups of coffee.  Seeing the room full of people, she grinned and said, “Sorry, guys, these are for me and Alfina. If you want any, you’ll have to get your own.”
 
I tapped Mr. Hurley on the shoulder.  “Have you explained to Grandmother what you are doing and why you are doing it?  More important, does she know what all that equipment is?”
 
“James, don’t worry.  I think she understands what is going on.”
 
“I hate to burst your bubble, but I doubt she has the slightest idea what you are doing and why.  Give me and Angela a few minutes alone with her before you ask your questions.”
 
Mr. Hurley looked at Mac who reluctantly nodded. “Okay, do your magic.”
 
Mac, Rachael, and Mr. Hurley excused themselves saying they were going to the cafeteria for some coffee.
 
Angela sat on the bed beside Grandmother, and I sat on the chair.  “Grandmother, how much of the world outside this room have you seen?”
 
Grandmother looked at Angela then bowing her head, said, “Not much, James.”
 
“Aside from the ambulance ride here to the hospital, what have you seen?”
 
Grandmother looked at Angela and said, “We’ve watched some television that’s all.”
 
“All this must be very confusing to you.”
 
“Da, it is, James.”
 
“Do you remember when I talked to you about the law, police and being honest?”
 
 “Da, I remember.”
 
“Do you know why Mac and Mr. Hurley want to ask you some questions?”
 
“Mr. Hurley say he want me to tell him what I know about Dark and Alexandru.”
 
“Yes, that’s right.  But do you know why?”
 
“I think maybe because Dark and Alexandru both be very bad men.”
 
“Yes, that is correct.  However, the law says before they can be punished, there must be proof that they are bad men.  Dark is dead.  So there is nothing anyone can do about him.”
 
Grandmother interrupted to say, “Angela, tell me about God and the Devil. She say to me, God is good, and the Devil be bad.  Good people go to a place called Heaven and bad people go to a place called Hell.  I think Dark be in Hell.  He do many, many bad things.  Angela say she going to teach me to read a book called the Bible.”
 
“You mean the Bible. I think that would be a wonderful book to read.”  Considering I hadn’t decided myself if God was real, I felt like a hypocrite saying that.  But if anyone could find comfort in God, it certainly was Grandmother.
 
“Grandmother, think of the law as making vegetable soup.  There are many steps needed to make soup.  First you must pick the vegetables, wash them, cut them up, put them into a pan of hot water and cook them.”
 
 “Don’t forget the spices.” Grandmother enthusiastically added.
 
Both Angela and I laughed.  “Of course, we won’t forget the spices.”
 
I paused to allow my analogy to sink in before proceeding. “Just like soup, the law has many steps that must be followed.  First, there must be a crime.  Do you know what a crime is?”

“Da, that be when you do something bad.”
 
“That’s correct.  When a crime is committed, it is the job of the police to collect evidence.  Evidence is proof of the crime.  Evidence can be anything.  A dead body, fingerprints, stolen property found in someone’s house, pocket, or car.  Another form of evidence is witness testimony.  If a person witnesses a crime, they tell the police and what they say is written down or taped on a special machine that records their voice.  That is what Mr. Hurley and Mac want to do today.  They want to talk to you about what you saw and heard at the cabin on the days Dark and Alicia died.  This is called a deposition.  It is just a fancy word for talking to a lawyer.  This can be used in court.  Do you understand what I am saying?”
 
“Da, James, I understand.”
 
There are two types of lawyers.  One for the defendant, the person accused of a crime.  The other is the District Attorney, or Prosecutor, who tries to prove the defendant, is guilty of the crime by using the evidence the police has collected.”
 
Grandmother nodded that she understood.
 
“Dad killed twelve young girls and dumped their bodies in a part of town called Belltown.  Everyone referred to him as the Belltown Killer.  I found evidence that proved he was guilty of killing six.  Dad knew going to court would mean he might get the death penalty.  His lawyer told him that if he confessed to all twelve that he could talk the prosecutor into not asking for the death penalty by sending him to jail for life instead.   But that crime was in King County.  He killed Dark and Alicia in Snohomish County.  They can try Dad in court and charge him with murder and sentence him to death.”
 
Grandmother sighed and looked extremely sad.  “James, I know Alexandru think for a long time that I am his sister.  I always think I be his mother.  Dark take that away from me.  I do not know Alexandru as a brother or a son.  I do not know him at all.”
 
Grandmother covered her face with her hands and began to cry.  Angela put her arms around her and together they cried.  I felt tears well up in my eyes because I knew exactly how Grandmother felt.  He was my father and I didn’t know him either.
 

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His eidetic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 47
The Meaning of Forgiveness

By Sasha

Author Note:

There's always time for love

We each took a moment to regain our composure.  Angela kissed Alfina’s hand and in a soft voice, asked, “Do you understand what James means by the death penalty?”
 
Alfina nodded.  “Da.  I understand death very well.  Dark tell Alexandru and me many times he kill us if we no do what he say.”
 
“Grandmother, Dark was talking about murder.  Murder is not the same as the death penalty.  Murder is intentionally causing the death of someone. The death penalty is only used to punish someone who is found guilty of murder.  This does not include a death by accident. I am telling you this because Dad admitted to intentionally killing twelve girls.  With your testimony about him killing Dark and Alicia, that brings the total to fourteen intentional murders.  The punishment for this may be death.  Can you live with that?”
 
Grandmother’s expression changed to one of curiosity.  She turned to Angela and said, “You tell me God is good. You say He forgive all sins.  If God forgive all sins, then why does man need to punish the sinner?”
 
I couldn’t help but be impressed by Grandmother’s question.  Behind those big green eyes, and beneath her thick red hair, was a brain more capable of reasoning than any of us gave her credit for.
 
Angela smiled. “A person must be repentant or sorry for what they have done and promise to never do it again, to receive God’s forgiveness.  Man’s law and God’s law are similar.  Man can forgive, and God can forgive, but God’s forgiveness determines if you go to heaven or hell.
 
Grandmother put her arms around Angela and in a voice trembling with fear and sadness, and tears in her eyes, asked, “Do you forgive Alexandru for murdering your granddaughter?”
 
Angela placed her hands on Grandmother’s cheeks, looked her directly in the eyes, and softly said, “No, Alfina, I cannot forgive him yet.  The pain of her loss is still too strong.”
 
Once again, tears flowed freely. Mac, Rachael and Mr. Hurley came back into the room and our tears quickly disappeared.  Dr. Williams and Smith, Alfina’s orthopedic surgeon, followed a few steps behind.
 
“Good morning, Alfina.  How are you today?’ Dr. Williams smiled and softly patted Alfina on the head.
 
“I no be too good. Mr. Hurley want me help him put Alexandru to death for killing Dark and Alicia.  That make me sad, but it also make me angry with Alexandru.  He be my son, but he also be a bad man like his father.”
 
At a complete loss at what to say to Alfina, Dr. Williams gave Mr. Hurley a very strong look of disapproval for upsetting his patient, and said, “Well, I certainly hope the rest of your day goes much better.”
 
Grandmother smiled.  “Me too.”
 
Speaking to Mr. Hurley, Dr. Williams said, I won’t take up much of your time, but I just wanted Dr. Smyth to explain to Alfina the surgery he will be performing on her foot tomorrow.”
 
Without introducing himself, Dr. Smyth began speaking.  "In most cases, a broken ankle or broken foot is a common injury. The seriousness of a broken ankle or broken foot varies. Fractures can range from tiny cracks in your bones to shattering breaks that pierce your skin.
 
“Alfina, treatment for a broken ankle or broken foot depends on the exact site and severity of the fracture. A severely broken ankle or broken foot may require surgery to implant wires, plates, rods or screws into the broken bone to maintain proper position during healing. Your foot has been repeatedly broken by impact from a heavy weight.  My primary concern is the nerve and blood vessel damage to your foot.  Lack of blood flow can cause a bone to die and collapse.  I am hoping the surgery can correct this condition.”
 
Alfina listened intently to Dr. Smyth, but obviously did not understand what he was saying.  “Do all them fancy words mean I can go for walks with Angela and my grandchildren after the surgery?”
 
Dr. Smyth smiled and said, “Yes, with the help of a cane you should be almost as good as new.  But I must tell you that recovery will take several months.”
 
Grandmother looked at me, “What do that mean?”
 
“You will have to be very careful not to injure your foot again and do everything the doctor tells you to do.”
 
Alfina grinned.  “I always be good at doing what people tell me to do.”
 
Drs. Williams and Gunzel said goodbye and left the room.  Mac and Mr. Hurley set their chairs beside Alfina’s bed.  Rachael handed them two manila folders containing the list of questions they were going to ask Alfina.  I felt uncomfortable.  I knew Grandmother needed me there for support, but I was not looking forward to listening to the details of Dark or Alicia’s death.  I glanced over at Angela, and could tell she felt the same way.
 
Without warning, Rachael tapped me on the shoulder.  She leaned close and whispered into my ear, “Don’t worry, James, Tom has taken hundreds of depositions, and he is always gentle.  He knows what he’s doing.”
 
The smell of Rachael’s perfume distracted me. 
 

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His eidetic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 48
The Deposition Part 1

By Sasha

“Alfina, just remember to relax.  I am going to ask you a list of questions.  If you don’t know the answer, just tell me.  Some of the questions may seem strange, some confusing, and a few may be embarrassing.  Just do the best you can.”
 
Mr. Hurley smiled, stepped back behind the camera, while Alfina looked at me with eyes pleading for everyone to go away.  My heart told me to put a stop to her torture, but common sense reminded me this was necessary if justice was to be served.  Dad had already manipulated the system, and this was the only way to set it right.
 
Angela stood beside me doing her best to reassure Alfina with a big smile that everything would be fine.
 
However, seeing the fear in Grandmother’s eyes, all I could think of was what an idiot I was to believe my own foolish bravado.
 
Mr. Hurley adjusted the camera, tested the microphone, and then proceeded to say, “This is a deposition of Alfina Propescu in the case against John Mathews.  It is Monday, June 21, 2011 and we are in Alfina’s hospital room at Harborview Medical Center in Seattle, Washington.”
 
Mr. Hurley then asked his first question.
 
 
“Please tell us your name.”
 
Grandmother hesitated for a moment then said, “Dark named me Alfina 3.”
 
Mr. Hurley asked, “Does that mean there was an Alfina 1 and 2?”
 
“I think so.”
 
“Do you remember Alfina 1?”
 
“No.  She die before I be born.”
 
“Do you know Alfina 2?”
 
“Dark tell me she be my mother.  He tell me she die birthing a baby boy.”
 
“Alfina, who is Dark?”
 
“Dark be the man that tell me what to do.”
 
“What relation is he to you?”
 
“Dark be my father.”
 
“Alfina, how old are you?”
 
“James, my grandson, tell me I be seventy-one. But numbers have little meaning to me.”
 
“Alfina, can you read?”
 
“No, Dark say reading be wrong, and he tell me I too stupid to learn.”
 

“Alfina, can you tell time?”
 
“Yes, but not in the way you do.  I know when it be morning, afternoon, and night.  I know when to prepare the ground for planting.  I know when to plant, and when it time to…  James, what is the word I look for?”
 
I looked at Mr. Hurley who nodded. 
 
“The word is harvest, Grandmother.”
 
“Yes, yes, that is the word.  I know when to harvest the garden. Dark tell me there is no reason to know more about time.”
 
Mr. Hurley paused, turned off the camera and told Alfina, “Now, I am going to ask you some questions about Alexandru.  We—pointing to me and Angela—know him as John Mathews.  When I ask you about John, I am actually asking you about Alexandru.  Do you understand?”
 
“I only know him as Alexandru.  You want me to call him Alexandru or John?”
 
Mr. Hurley patted Grandmother on the shoulder.  “You call him what you want.”
 
Mr. Hurley turned the camera back on.  “Alfina, do you know a man named John Mathews?”
 
Alfina nodded.  Mr. Hurley said, “You have to answer out loud.”
 
Alfina blushed and said, “Yes, I know John Mathews.  His father, Dark, name him Alexandru Propescu.  I call him Alexandru.”
 
“Did you and Dark live as husband and wife?”
 
Alfina didn’t answer.  Mr. Hurley asked her again, “Did you and Dark live as husband and wife?”
 
“I do not know the words husband or wife.  What do husband and wife mean?”
 
I could tell this was going to be an unusually long day. There was so much Grandmother did not know or understand; things we all took for granted.
 
Mr. Hurley immediately tried to explain what husband and wife meant. “When a man and woman get married, they become husband and wife.”
 
Grandmother’s blank expression told me she did not understand.
 
“James, what does married mean?”
 
Without waiting for Mr. Hurley’s approval, I told Grandmother, “When a man and a woman meet, sometimes they like each other.  In time, like becomes love and they decide to spend their lives together.  They get married.  Married is an official proceeding done performed by a preacher, or official of the state.  The woman becomes the wife and the man becomes the husband.  They then live together and start to have babies.”
 
I knew my explanation was oversimplified, but Grandmother was easily confused and with her, simple was always better.
 
“Oh, I understand.  No, Dark not be my husband.  He be my father, but he called me his woman.  It be my job to clean the cabin, make breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Work in the garden.  Catch and kill rabbits or squirrels and make babies.  But, we never be married.”
 
“In the time you lived with Dark, did you ever meet other people?”
 
“No.  Dark no like anyone to visit the cabin.  He put up signs telling people he shoot anyone who come on his property. He told me to always hide in the shed behind the cabin if anyone come to the cabin.  He told me he beat me if I no obey.  I always obey. But, not many people ever come to the cabin.”
 
“When you and Dark talked, did you speak in English?”
 
“No.  Dark say English be the Devil’s language.  He never tell me who the Devil be.  He only say that he be very, very bad.  I was ascared of him, especially at night.”
 
“What language did you speak when talking to Dark?”
 
“I think he call it Gypsy speak.”
 
“If you only spoke Gypsy, how did you learn English?”
 
 
“I learn English from Alexandru.  He go to school and learn it there.”
 
“Who is Alexandru?”
 
Grandmother’s expression changed to one of shame.  Her faced was flushed and she turned her eyes away when she spoke.
 
“Alexandru be my son.  But Dark tell him I be his sister and say he beat me if I tell Alexandru I be his mother.”
 
Grandmother seemed to drift into another world.  She continued to talk.  “Dark very, very angry when the man come to the cabin and tell him Alexandru had to go to school.  He say it be the law.  They argue but the man tell Dark he have no choice.  Alexandru go school or Dark go to jail. So, Alexandru go to schoolhouse.  Dark very, very angry.  When Alexandru speak in English, he beat him with a belt.  Alexandru and Dark not like each other.  They fight all the time.  When school end, Alexandru tell Dark he leaving the cabin to go to a bigger schoolhouse to learn to be a doctor.  He also tell Dark he change his name to John.   Dark not happy.  They have a terrible fight.  Alexandru leave the cabin and I no see him again for maybe twenty or twenty five plantings.”
 
“What happened when you saw John again?”
 
“When he come to the cabin, I hear the car.  I be in the garden.  I do what Dark tell me; I run to hide in the shed behind the cabin.  I hear loud shouting and then furniture breaking. I be very ascared.  I leave the shed and go to the back of the cabin and look in the window.  I see a tall man.  I know he be Alexandru.  He and Dark fight like mad dogs.  Alexandru hit Dark many times with a piece of wood.  When Dark stop moving, Alexandru sit down beside him.  I no see him, but Alexandru make a loud noise and I hear Dark scream.  Alexandru get up, run out the front door and leave.  I be very ascared and go back into the shed.  I stay in the shed a long, long time.  It be very dark when I finally go inside the cabin.  There be blood everywhere.  The table upside-down, the chair in many pieces on the floor, and Dark be dead.  I not know what to do.  
 
“I sit on floor a long time then I hear a car.  I ascared and run and hide in the shed again.  I wait a long time, and then I see Alexandru go into the woods with a shovel.  He come back and then leave again with Dark over his shoulder.  He plant Dark in same place Dark plant Alfina 1, Alfina 2 and their dead babies.”
 
“Did Alexandru see you?”

“No.  He no see me.”
 
“How do you know he didn’t see you?”
 
“If Alexandru see me, I no be here.  I be dead.”
 
“What did you do after John left?”
 
“I stay in the shed all night and all next day before I come out.  I go into the cabin, and it be clean.  The table is upside, the chair be gone, and there be no more blood.  Alexandru clean everything very good.”
 
“What did you do then?”
 
“I afeard Alexandru come back, so I sleep in the shed every night for a long time.
 
“When he no come back, I go back into cabin and sleep.  But one night I hear a car.  I run to hide in the shed.  I no see who go into the cabin.  When I hear a girl scream, I want to be strong and help the girl but I so ascared I no can move.  The scream go on all night.  It be terrible.  I can still hear the girl scream when I sleep.”
 
Alfina’s voice began to tremble and it was obvious this was an opportune time to stop and take a break.  Mr. Hurley felt the same and told Alfina to take an hour to rest, and he would continue after lunch.  As we left the room, I looked back and saw Angela and Grandmother hugging each other.  They were both crying.



 

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His eidetic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 49
The Deposion Part 2

By Sasha

Mr. Hurley and I went downstairs to the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee and a stale ham and cheese sandwich.  Neither of us spoke until Angela appeared with red eyes and a runny nose.  I couldn’t think of anything to say, so a hug was all I could offer in the way of comfort. Mr. Hurley pulled out a chair, and Angela sat down.  He handed her his handkerchief and said, “Let me get you a cup of coffee.”
 
In a shaky voice, she said, “Thanks, but I’d prefer a cup of tea; green tea if possible.”
 
I knew it must have been very difficult to listen to Grandmother talk about Alicia.  I also knew Mr. Hurley wasn’t done questioning Grandmother about what she witnessed.
 
“Angela, it really isn’t necessary for you to be there when Mr. Hurley questions Grandmother. I think it is too hard for you to hear the details of what happened to Alicia.”
 
Sounding a little less shaky, Angela shook her head.  “Yes, it is hard, but I have to be there for both Alfina and Alicia.  Your grandmother told me she feels guilty for how John turned out.  She believes that because Dark wouldn’t allow her to show any affection that she is now responsible for what he became.  I’ve told her she is not the cause of what happened, but she doesn’t believe me.  It is going to take a long time for her to understand that the blame belongs to Dark.
 
 
Angela paused to put some sugar into her tea.  Mr. Hurley sat in the chair beside her.  “James, your grandmother has lived her entire life without any contact with the outside world.  Dark controlled her every move.  She couldn’t do anything without his approval.  Television and radio confuse and frighten her.  After she has her surgery, I want to take her out and show her the waterfront, a trip to Mt. Rainier, and take her to a grocery store; something she has never seen.  I want to teach her how to read and write.  She is really very smart, a lot smarter than you or anyone else thinks.”
 
“No, Angela, I know she is very smart.  Just look at how fast she has learned English.  But I still don’t think you need to hear all the ugly details.  It just isn’t good for you.
 
Angela smiled and patted my hand affectionately. “Sorry, there is nothing you can say to change my mind.”
 
Mr. Hurley leaned back in his chair with a look of concern on his face.  “Snohomish County plans to convene a grand jury in two weeks, so we don’t have much time to get this deposition to them.  They will need it if they are going to call Alfina as a witness.”
 
“What grand jury?  Dad didn’t have a grand jury?”
 
“James, that’s because he pleaded guilty, there was no need for a grand jury.”
 
Obviously confused, Angela asked, “What exactly is a grand jury.  Why isn’t Alfina’s taped deposition enough?  Why does she still have to testify?”
 
Mr. Hurley sat forward and looked directly at Angela.  “A grand jury usually includes sixteen to twenty three people.  The prosecutor presents evidence against a person suspected of committing a crime.  The defendant can appear in his own defense, but neither witnesses nor defendants are allowed to have their attorney present.  After listening to the evidence, the grand jury votes to decide if there is enough evidence to require a trial.  It is not their job to decide guilt or innocence. And with what we’ve got on James’s father, I have no doubt they will vote for a trial.”
 
“Why can’t they just use the taped deposition?”
 
“Angela that is only done in rare instances.  Taped evidence of the person actually committing the crime can be presented, but if there is a witness the jury, and in court, the defense must have the opportunity to cross-examine them.  You cannot cross examine a tape.”
 
The idea of Grandmother having to sit in a courtroom filled with strangers being cross examined by a man trying to make her look like a liar or worse, a crazy woman who can’t be trusted terrified me.  “Does she know she will have to testify at the grand jury and at Dad’s trial?”
 
Mr. Hurley shook his head.  “No, that is something I was hoping you’d help me with.”
 
“It is going to take a lot more than a pat on the back and a vote of confidence to prepare her for this.  She’s going to fall apart on the stand.  I won’t be there to help her with the words she doesn’t understand.  In addition, Angela won’t be allowed to hold her hand.  Damn it, Mr. Hurley, we need more time to prepare her.”
 
“I can speak to the prosecutor and see if I can talk him into calling Alfina as a witness last.  That’s the best I can do, James.”
 
 
I didn’t feel the least bit confident that Grandmother could hold up to an interrogation by the Grand Jury.  I was going to have to work with her every day and even play devil’s advocate.  She had to know what to expect before she walked into that courtroom.
 
 
* * * * * * * * * *
 
 
Grandmother was just finishing her lunch when we entered the room.  I laughed out loud when I saw her tray filled with several plastic cups of red Jell-O and even more cups of what had to be tapioca pudding.
 
 
Holding a plastic cup of pudding in her hand, Grandmother said, “James, you have to try this.  It be so good.  I like the red Jell-O too but this be my favorite.”  She ate the pudding and licked the spoon.  “Oh yes, I like this the best.”  She immediately picked up another cup and consumed the contents in a matter of seconds.
 
Mr. Hurley was busy setting up the camera and testing the microphone.  He then turned to Alfina and said, “We need to finish with our questions.”
 
Grandmother nodded and grabbed a third cup of pudding downing it as fast as she could.  “Okay, I be ready.”
 
Angela giggled and carefully moved the tray to the side.
 
Suddenly Grandmother sat up and with a big grin on her face said, “James, Dark was wrong when he say the world be a bad place where the devil live.  Dark be wrong, the devil live in the cabin, not out here with you.
 
Grandmother’s smile disappeared and large tears raced down her cheeks.  Looking away from me, Grandmother said, “James, I think Dark be the Devil and he take Alexandru and make him a devil too.  Her bottom lip began to quiver.  “James, if they be devils, what do that make me?”
 
“Grandmother, that makes you a victim and a survivor.  Do you understand what I am saying?
 
She nodded, wiped the tears from her face and looked at Mr. Hurley.  “You can ask me your questions now.”
 
He turned on the camera and repositioned the microphone.  After tapping it several times to make sure it was working, he said, “Okay we’re ready.
 
 “This is part 2 of the deposition of Alfina Propescu in the case against John Mathews.  I am Thomas Hurley, Ms. Alfina Propescu’s attorney.  It is Monday, June 21, 2011 and we are in Alfina’s hospital room at Harborview Medical Center in Seattle, Washington.
 
“Alfina, I would like to pick up where we left off.  You were telling us about the night someone came to the cabin with a girl.  You were hiding in the shed when you heard her scream.”
 
Alfina bowed her head.  “Yes, I still hear her scream today.”
 
“What happened when the screaming stopped?”
 
“The scream stopped and I wait long time before the back door open and a man come out.  He picked up the shovel lying against the cabin, walked past the small shed, and begin to dig a hole in the rose garden.  He dig a big hole.  He go back into the house and come out with the girl over his shoulder.  He put her in the hole and cover her with dirt.”
 
“Did you recognize the man?”
 
Grandmother took a deep breath and with tears in her eyes said, “Yes, it was Alexandru, my son.  You know him as John Mathews.”
 
“Are you sure it was John?”
 
Sounding defensive, she said, “Yes, I tell you before, a mother always know her son.  It was Alexandru that I see.”
 
“What happened next?”
 
“Alexandru go back into the cabin.  He stay there a long time.  He finally leave, I hear the car drive away.  I still ascared and I stay in the shed until the sun come up.  I go into the cabin and it was clean.  There was no blood, no broken furniture.  Everything be exactly where it should.  My heart be pounding hard.  I still ascared.  I go outside to the rose garden.  I look at the place he plant the body.  I no know her name.  I call her ‘Little Flower’.  When Alexandru dig the hole, he dig up a rose bush that lay beside ‘Little Flower’.  I plant the rose over the body and close my eyes and tell ‘Little Flower’ I be sorry my son, Alexandru hurt her.  I light a small fire near the rose bush.  I start the fire with one light and no add more fuel.  I place thyme, sage, and rosemary into the fire.  I no know the little girl’s name so I repeat ‘Little Flower’ seven times, while walking backwards around the fire.  I sit by the fire until it burn out.
 
Mr. Hurley asked, “Why did you do that?”
“The dead person be caught between the world of the living and the world of the dead.  They stay there until planted. In order to ease their stay there, and to prepare them for the journey to the world of the dead, there is a ritual that is performed by the shuvani.  There be no shuvani, so I perform the ritual for ‘Little Flower’.”  I help her go to the world of the dead.  So she no longer be trapped in between.  I no perform this ritual for Dark.
“What is the significant of saying Little Flower seven times?”
Grandmother smiled.  “Seven is a powerful number.  All rituals be said seven times to make sure they work.  Seven is very special number.”
I looked around the room and everyone, including myself, was looking at her with expressions of admiration.  Dark broke my father but not Grandmother.  She had a heart full of compassion and love.  And at the worst moments in time, it was that love that got her through it all.  I no longer saw her as a victim.  She was most definitely a survivor and best of all, she was MY Grandmother.
 
Mr. Hurley gave us all a few minutes to compose ourselves and continued with the deposition.
 
“Did you see John again?”
 
“No, he no come back to the cabin.”
 
“Did anyone come to the cabin?”
 
“Yes.  A young boy come.  He look around the cabin, in the workshop and then in the garden.  He find the bones of ‘Little Flower’.  He be ascared and run away.

“Then many people come.  They look in the cabin and everywhere.  I hide in the woods.  They dig up ‘Little Flower’ and take her away.”
 
“Did you know who that young boy was?”
 
“I no learn until later that he be my grandson, James.
 
“How long did you stay at the cabin after John buried ‘Little Flower’?”
 
Grandmother paused to count on her fingers.  “I think it be at least five plantings that I stay there.”
 
“You were alone the whole time?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Weren’t you afraid?”
 
“I no be ascared until all the food and seeds be gone and I no can plant food.  Sometimes I ascared of staying in the cabin because I know terrible things happen there.  I go to the cave by the stream.  But it be very cold and finally I know it be time to leave.  I no know where to go.  I walk to the road and watch the cars.  I watch the cars and walk in the direction that most go.  I walk a long time until I see a town.  When I walk down the street many people look at me and some run away.  I finally walk by a building that have a big star in the window.  It be the same star on the cars that came to the cabin and take away ‘Little Flower’s’ bones.  I open the door and go inside.
 
“The man inside ask me my name, but he speak English and he be hard to understand.  I speak Gypsy but he look at me funny.  He no understand.  I try to remember the English Alexandru teach me and I finally able to tell them about Dark.  I afeard that Alexandru come kill me if I tell them about him so I tell the man I kill Dark.”
 
“Later when you could speak English better you told the truth.  Alexandru killed Dark, and he killed Alicia, Little Flower, too.”
 
 
“Yes, that be the truth.”

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His eidetic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns Jaames's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 50
James and Angela

By Sasha

Although Grandmother and Angela lived totally different lives, I found it fascinating and heartwarming how close they had become.  From the day Angela met Grandmother she had not left her side.  It was obvious to everyone how much they loved each other.  The worst set of circumstances imaginable brought them together, yet neither felt anger or hatred toward the other.
 
We all knew it would take considerable time for Grandmother to recover fully, but we all planned to be there for her every step of the way.  Unlike me, she handled pain well.  She never complained when doing her physical therapy.
 
I was pleased to learn she would be staying with Angela.  Grandmother was eager to learn, and Angela was equally eager to teach.  Grandmother was learning so quickly it amazed everyone.  Angela read her "Little House on the Prairie" then immediately Grandmother would read the story herself, not making a single mistake.  Within a week, they had read almost all of Mother Goose. Grandmother’s ability with numbers was equally impressive.  Everyone noticed we shared the same ability to remember. 

When Grandmother was sleeping, Angela and I often walked across the overpass to upper campus to Drumheller Fountain. In the area around the beautiful fountain, there is a beautiful rose garden. In the spring, the rhododendron bushes put on quite a show for the visitor.  The University of Washington campus displays impressive architecture blended with majestic landscaping.  Both Angela and I could not wait until Grandmother was well enough to make the daily trip with us.
 
Our daily trips to upper campus often resulted in moments of sadness reminding me of the time I spent away from Dad while my family was subjected to his obnoxious and cruel behavior.  Angela always seemed to read my mind and did her best to reassure me. “James, you have to stop blaming yourself for escaping your father’s wrath. If you want my opinion, which I am sure you don’t, I think he was afraid of you.”

“Why would he be afraid of me?”

“Your father was successful at pretty much everything he did, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never match your intellect.  James, you are destined for great things. You are the one who will be remembered.  In time he will fade into dust like so many sick killers before him.”
 
I took Angela’s hand in mine and stroked it gently.  “I would settle for a normal, quiet life where no one knew I was the son of a serial killer, yet I feel that is going to be a difficult challenge to accomplish."
 
“James, you feel that way now, but give it time and things will settle down sooner than you think.”
 
“Mom, Susan and Charlie are moving to Miami, and I think the change will be a good one for them.”
 
“What about you?  James, what are your plans?

 “I plan to change my PhD.  I feel the need to pursue a different path.”

“And what’s that?”

“Criminology and Behavioral Science.”

Angela laughed.  “That’s one way of improving your social skills. But what happened to that normal life you were talking about?”

“I want to understand why people do what they do.  Why they make the choices they make.  Why a person becomes a sociopath. And, most important of all, why so many feel the need to kill.”
 
“I understand your need to know the answers to your questions but do you really think it is healthy for you to pursue this?”
 
I laughed. “I think it would be unhealthy for me not to.”
 
Angela smiled then nodded.
 
“The doctor is so pleased with Grandmother’s progress he says she can go home on Sunday.  Are you sure you are up to taking care of her?”
 
“I can’t think of anything I would rather do.  Alfina is such a dear, and I feel honored to call myself her friend.”
 
“She is blessed to have you as a friend too.”

Author Notes

I have have had some complaints about the size of my font and the bold. I apologize but I am blind in one eye and the momement the good one isn't doing so well. I need large bold print to be able to see. James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His eidetic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 50
Deposition Part 2

By Sasha

Mr. Hurley and I went downstairs to the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee and a stale ham and cheese sandwich.  Neither of us spoke until Angela appeared with red eyes and a runny nose.  I couldn’t think of anything to say, so a hug was all I could offer in the way of comfort. Mr. Hurley pulled out a chair and Angela sat down.  He handed her his handkerchief and said, “Let me get you a cup of coffee.”
 
In a shaky voice she said, “Thanks, but I’d prefer a cup of tea; green tea if possible.”
 
I knew it must have been very difficult to listen to Grandmother talk about Alicia.  I also knew Mr. Hurley wasn’t done questioning Grandmother about what else happened.
 
“Angela, it really isn’t necessary for you to be there when Mr. Hurley questions Grandmother. I think it is too hard on you to hear the details of what happened to her.”
 
Sounding a little less shaky, Angela shook her head.  “Yes, it is hard, but I have to be there for both Alfina and Alicia.  Your grandmother told me she feels guilty for how John turned out.  She believes that because Dark wouldn’t allow her to show any affection that she is now responsible for what he became.  I’ve told her she is not the cause of what happened, but she doesn’t believe me.  It is going to take a long time for her to understand that the blame belongs to Dark.
 
 
Angela paused to put some sugar into her tea.  Mr. Hurley sat in the chair beside her.  “James, your grandmother has lived her entire life without any contact with the outside world.  Dark controlled her every move.  She couldn’t do anything without his approval.  Television and radio confuse and frighten her.  After she is released, I want to take her out and show her the waterfront, a trip to Mt. Rainier, and take her to a grocery store; show her things she has never seen.  I want to teach her how to read and write.  She is really very smart, a lot smarter than you or anyone else thinks.”
 
“No, Angela, I know she is very smart.  Just look at how fast she has learned English.  But I still don’t think you need to hear all the ugly details.  It just isn’t good for you.
 
Angela smiled and patted my hand affectionately. “Sorry, there is nothing you can say to change my mind.”
 
Mr. Hurley leaned back in his chair with a look of concern on his face.  “Snohomish County plans to convene a grand jury in two weeks, so we don’t have much time to get this deposition to them.  They will need it if they are going to call Alfina as a witness.”
 
“What grand jury?  Dad didn’t have a grand jury?”
 
“James, that’s because he pleaded guilty, there was no need for grand jury.”
 
Obviously confused, Angela asked, “What exactly is a grand jury.  Why isn’t Alfina’s taped deposition enough?  Why does she still have to testify?”
 
Mr. Hurley sat forward and looked directly at Angela.  “A grand jury usually includes sixteen to twenty three people.  The prosecutor presents evidence against a person suspected of committing a crime.  The defendant can appear in his own defense, but neither witnesses nor defendants are allowed to have their attorney present.  After listening to the evidence the grand jury votes to decide if there is enough evidence to require a trial.  It is not their job to decide guilt or innocence. And with what we’ve got on James’s father, I have no doubt they will vote for a trial.”
 
“Why can’t they just use the taped deposition?”
 
“Angela, that is only done in rare instances.  Taped evidence of the person actually committing the crime can be presented, but if there is a witness the defense must have the opportunity to cross examine them.  You cannot cross examine a tape.”
 
The idea of Grandmother having to sit in a courtroom filled with strangers being cross examined by a man trying to make her look like a liar or worse, a crazy woman who can’t be trusted terrified me.  “Does she know she will have to testify at the grand jury and at Dad’s trial?”
 
Mr. Hurley shook his head.  “No, that is something I was hoping you’d help me with.”
 
“It is going to take a lot more than a pat on the back and a vote of confidence to prepare her for this.  She’s going to fall apart on the stand.  I won’t be there to help her with the words she doesn’t understand.  And, Angela won’t be allowed to hold her hand.  Damn it, Mr. Hurley, we need more time to prepare her.”
 
“I can speak to the prosecutor and see if I can talk him into calling Alfina as a witness last.  That’s the best I can do, James.”
 
 
I didn’t feel the least bit confident that Grandmother could hold up to an attack by the defense.  I was going to have to work with her every day and even play devil’s advocate.  She had to know what to expect before she walked into that courtroom.
 
 
* * * * * * * * * *
 
 
Grandmother was just finishing her lunch when we entered the room.  I laughed out loud when I saw her tray filled with several plastic cups of red Jell-O and even more cups of what had to be tapioca pudding.
 
 
Holding a plastic cup of pudding in her hand, Grandmother said, “James, you have to try this.  It be so good.  I like the red Jell-O too but this be my favorite.”  She ate the pudding and licked the spoon.  “Oh yes, I like this the best.”  She immediately picked up another cup and consumed the contents in a matter of seconds.
 
Mr. Hurley was busy setting up the camera and testing the microphone.  He then turned to Alfina and said, “We need to finish with our questions.”
 
Grandmother nodded and grabbed a third cup of pudding downing it as fast as she could.  “Okay, I be ready.”
 
Angela giggled and carefully moved the tray to the side.  Suddenly Grandmother sat up and with a big grin on her face said, “James, isn’t it amazing they can see inside my body with their machines?  Dark was wrong when he say the world be a bad place where the devil live.  Dark was wrong, the devil live in the cabin, not out here with you.
 
Grandmother’s smile disappeared and large tears raced down her cheeks.  Looking away from me, Grandmother said, “James, I think Dark be the Devil and he take Alexandru and make him a devil too.  Her bottom lip began to quiver.  “James, if they be devils, what do that make me?”
 
“Grandmother, that makes you a victim and a survivor.  Do you understand what I am saying?
 
She nodded, wiped the tears from her face and looked at Mr. Hurley.  “You can ask me your questions now.”
 
He turned on the camera and repositioned the microphone.  After tapping it several times to make sure it was working, he said, “Okay we’re ready.
 
 “This is part 2 of the deposition of Alfina Propescu in the case against John Mathews.  I am Thomas Hurley, Ms. Alfina Propescu’s attorney.  It is Monday, June 21, 2011 and we are in Alfina’s hospital room at Harborview Medical Center in Seattle, Washington.
 
“Alfina, I would like to pick up where we left off.  You were telling us about the night someone came to the cabin with a girl.  You were hiding in the shed when you heard her scream.”
 
Alfina bowed her head.  “Yes, I still hear her scream today.”
 
“What happened when the screaming stopped?”
 
“The scream stopped and I wait long time before the back door open and a man come out.  He picked up the shovel leaning against the cabin and walked past the shed and begin to dig a hole in the rose garden.  He dig a big hole.  He go back into the house and come out with the girl over his shoulder.  He put her in the hole and cover her with dirt.”
 
“Did you recognize the man?”
 
Grandmother took a deep breath and with tears in her eyes said, “Yes, it was Alexandru, my son.  You know him as John Mathews.”
 
“Are you sure it was John?”
 
Sounding defensive, she said, “Yes, a mother always know her son.  It was Alexandru that I see.”
 
“What happened next?”
 
Grandmother’s eyes stared off into nothingness.  She remained silent for several minutes before Mr. Hurley asked her again, “Alfina, what happened next?”
 
 
“Alexandru go back into the cabin.  He stay there a long time.  He finally leave, I hear the car drive away.  I still ascared and I stay in the shed until the sun come up.  I go into the cabin and it was clean.  There was no blood, no broken furniture.  Everything exactly where it should be.  My heart be pounding hard.  I still ascared.  I go outside to the rose garden.  I look at the place he bury the body of the young girl.  I no know her name.  I call her ‘Little Flower’.  When Alexandru dig the hold he dig up a rose bush that lay beside ‘Little Flower’.  I plant the rose over the body and close my eyes and tell ‘Little Flower’ I be sorry my son, Alexandru hurt her.  I light a small fire near the rose bush.  I start the fire with one match and no add more fuel.  I place thyme, sage, and rosemary into the fire.  I no know the little girl’s name so I repeat ‘Little Flower’ seven times, while walking backwards around the fire.  I sit by the fire until it burn out.”
 
Mr. Hurley asked,”Why did you do that?”
“The dead person is caught between the world of the living and the world of the dead.  They stay there until buried. In order to ease their stay there, and to prepare them for the transition to the world of the dead, there is a ritual that is performed by the shuvani.  There be no shuvani, so I perform the ritual for ‘Little Flower’.”  I help her go to the world of the dead.  So no longer traped in between.  I no perform this ritual for Dark. 
 

I looked around the room and everyone, including myself, was crying.  Dark broke my father but not Grandmother.  She had a heart full of compassion and love.  And at the worst moments in time, it was love that got her through it all.  I no longer saw her as a victim.  She was most definitely a survivor and best of all, she was MY Grandmother.
 
Mr. Hurley gave us all a few minutes to compose ourselves and continued with the deposition.
 
“Did you see John again?”
 
“No, he no come back to the cabin.”
 
“Did anyone come to the cabin?”
 
“Yes.  A young boy come.  He look around the cabin, in the workshop and then in the garden.  He find the bones of ‘Little Flower’.  He be ascared and run away.”

Then many people come.  They look in the cabin and everywhere.  I hide in the woods.  They dig up ‘Little Flower’ and take her away.
 
“Did you know who that young boy was?”
 
“I no learn until later that he be my grandson, James.
 
“How long did you stay at the cabin after John buried ‘Little Flower’?”
 
Grandmother paused to count on her fingers.  “I think it be at least five plantings that I stay there.”
 
“You were alone the whole time?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Weren’t you afraid?”
 
“I no be ascared until all the seeds be gone and I no can plant food.  Sometimes I ascared of staying in the cabin because I know terrible things happen there.  I go to the cave by the stream.  But it be very cold and finally I know it be time to leave.  I no know where to go.  I walk to the road and watch the cars.  I watch the cars and walk in the direction that most go.  I walk a long time until I see a town.  When I walk down the street many people look at me and some run away.  I finally walk by a building that have a big star in the window.  It be the same star on the cars that came to the cabin and take away ‘Little Flower’s’ bones.  I open the door and go inside.
 
The man inside ask me my name, but he speak English and he be hard to understand.  I speak Gypsy but he look at me funny.  He no understand.  I try to remember the English Alexandru teach me and I finally able to tell them about Dark.  I afeard that Alexandru come kill me if I tell them about him so I tell the man I kill Dark.”
 
“Later when you could speak English better you told the truth.  Alexandru killed Dark and he killed Alicia, ‘Little Flower’, too.”
 
 
“Yes, that be the truth.”


* * * * * * * * * *
 
List of Characters:
Please note age of the Alfina 1 and 2 at the time they were kidnapped is not known.

James Mathews  -  18 year old genius
John Martin Mathews  AKA Alexandru Popescu – Father and Serial Killer
Martha Mathews - Mom
Adain Popescu AKA Dark – John Mathew’s father
Charlie Mathews – Brother 13
Susan Mathews -  Sister 16
Detective MacKinnon  ‘Mac’ – Head of Belltown Task Force
Thomas Hurley – Criminal Attorney representing the family and Alfina
Dr. Perez – Susan’s Psychiatrist
Marcy – James’s ex-girlfriend
Marilyn- Susan’s Day Nurse
Dr. Williams – Mom’s Psychiatrist also Alfina 3’s doctor
Alfina 1 – Kidnapped June 6, 1935  died in childbirth in 1940 –child stillborn
Alfina 2-  Kidnapped August 15, 1940 age 8  gave  birth to Alfina 3 June 21,  1945
                 Alfina 2 died giving birth to stillborn child in 1948
Alfina 3-  in 1957 at age 12 gave birth to Alexandru (John Mathews)
Alicia Campbell – Babysitter missing for nearly 5 years found buried at the cabin
Angela Campbell- Alicia’s grandmother
Rachael – Mr. Hurley’s assistant

Author Notes

James voices concern over how facing a grand jury will effect Grandmother.

Chapter 51
Grandmother Goes Home with Angela

By Sasha

As I sat on the balcony staring out over the city covered in yellow, red, blue, and green lights, I noticed faint wisps of transparent clouds streak across the night sky hinting rain was on its way.  It had been a long day and tomorrow promised to be even longer.  Grandmother was being released and Mom, Angela, and Susan spent the entire day shopping for new sheets, blankets, and even curtains for Grandmother’s bedroom. 
 
After spending the morning at the hospital with Grandmother, I left her for a few hours to look at an apartment on Capitol Hill.  Mom is not pleased about my decision to move, but I need time to myself.  Charlie is angry and feels abandoned despite my promise to find a place with two bedrooms, so he can spend the night.  Susan and Uncle Terry are the only ones that agree it is time for me to move on.
 
Grandmother is excited about leaving the hospital.  I have no choice but to put aside my concern over how she will adjust to life in the real world.  No matter how hard I try to prepare her for what to expect, I know there are so many things that she is not ready for.  I am tired, but I can’t sleep.  My stomach is tied into knots sending waves of burning acid up into my throat.  My medication does nothing to alleviate the pain.
 
* * * * * * * * * *
 
I woke still sitting on the balcony.  The rain I anticipated had come and gone leaving me cold, wet, and shivering.  I felt an eerie sense that something was wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.  After taking a hot shower and changing into dry clothes, I grabbed my cell phone, keys and headed to the hospital.  I glanced at my watch; it was 9:30, only thirty minutes to get there in time to meet with Dr. Williams.

Grandmother was dressed and ready to go when I arrived.  Mom, Angela, Susan, and Charlie gave me a look of disapproval at my late arrival.  I ignored them.  Dr. Williams entered the room and handed Angela a typewritten list of Grandmother’s schedule:  Occupational therapy every Tuesday and Thursday and group therapy Monday and Friday with Dr. Williams.  As the attendant wheeled Grandmother out of the room, the nurse placed a large plastic bag of medication on her lap and handed me a list of her medications and when she was to take them.
 
Before leaving the room, Dr. Williams took hold of my arm and pulled me aside.  “James, this is a monumental step for Alfina.  I know she is excited about getting to know her family, but I am concerned that she not be overwhelmed.  Please, take it slow with her.”

I assured Dr. Williams I took his concern seriously and thanked him for all his help.  The ride to Angela’s house was uneventful other than Grandmother’s shock when we drove over the Evergreen floating bridge.  I honestly believe she held her breath the entire length of the bridge.  She gasped in awe when she saw the top of Mt. Rainier resting on a cloud above the southern horizon.  “Oh my, dat be so beautiful!”

We pulled into Angela’s driveway fifteen minutes later.  Her house is a lovely three-bedroom cottage nestled on a small lot in an older section of Kirkland.  A tall, very old Weeping Willow tree hovers over two ponds filled with Koi.  The small pond is connected to a larger pond several feet lower with a pump to assist in water circulation.  Two large bird nets cover both ponds to prevent leaves from falling into the water.  The S shaped sidewalk leading to the front porch is lined with gladiolas, irises and lilies.  As we approached the house, Angela pointed to the side of the house and announced, “My vegetable and herb garden is over there.  It’s my pride and joy.”

Grandmother smiled.  “Maybe you let me help you in the garden.  I be a good gardener.”
Angela nodded enthusiastically.  “What a great idea.  James tells me you are an avid gardener, I could certainly use help from someone that knows what they are doing.”

Angela opened the front door and invited us inside.  We sat in the living room while she went into the kitchen and prepared a pot of tea.  Grandmother sat quietly staring out the window.  No one spoke.  After we drank the tea, Grandmother announced she was tired and wanted to take a nap.  Angela showed her to her bedroom and then returned to the living room.  “We need to give Alfina some time to adjust.”

I agreed.  “I think it is best we let the two of you develop your own routine.  Find out what Grandmother feels most comfortable doing.  She doesn’t need us hovering over her, she needs her space.”

 * * * * * * * * *

The sound of my phone ringing woke me.  A wave of guilt swept over me when I saw Angela’s name displayed on the screen.  Moving into my new apartment took up more of my time than anticipated making phone calls my only communication with Angela and Grandmother over the past three days.
“Hello, Angela. I am so sorry I haven’t been over to see you.”  I quickly looked at the large stack of unpacked boxes lined up against the wall.  “But now that I’m settled in, I promise to come over this afternoon.”

“James, I know you’re busy, and I hate to bother you, but I am worried about Alfina.  She refuses to take her medication, and she continually complains about something she calls mokkadi. James, I am at my wit’s end.  I need your help.”

“Don’t worry.  I’ll catch the next bus and be there in an hour.”

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. After discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, James's life is turned into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 52
Mokkadi

By Sasha

I arrived at Angela’s forty-five minutes later.  As I walked up the sidewalk, I saw Grandmother on her knees in the garden.  She paused long enough to wave hello, and then quickly returned to digging amongst the vegetables.  Angela stood on the porch waiting for me.  We went inside and I followed her into the kitchen where she proceeded to make a pot of tea.
 
“James, I am so sorry if I upset you when I called.  But, Alfina has been acting quite defiant when it comes to following Dr. Williams’s instructions.  She simply will not take her medication.  She insists she can heal herself with special herbs from the garden.  Believe it or not, we have also had a few minor arguments about some of her strange beliefs.  She won’t let me bring Dotty, my dog, into the house.  She says to do so is against the mokkadi code; whatever that is.  She had a fit when I washed the dishes in the kitchen sink after I washed a pair of socks in the sink—apparently, also against the mokkadi code.   I tried to get her to explain mokkadi to me, but she said because I was gaje, I wouldn’t understand.”
 
I understood Angela’s frustration.  It was obvious to me that Grandmother considered herself a Gypsy herbalist healer, a partragria.  What I found odd was Dark was never raised by true Gypsies like his father Lucian, who had been banned from the clan years earlier. Whatever Grandmother was taught had to be diluted information passed down from Lucian to Dark, who supposedly taught Grandmother everything he knew. Only Grandmother could tell me what she knew about herbal healing and who taught her.
 
Angela poured me a cup of tea and then sat across from me at the table, anxiously waiting for me to explain Grandmother’s behavior.

“Angela, you know Grandmother believes she is a Romani Gypsy.  The Romani have many laws.  Dark’s father, Lucian, was sentenced to marime’ after breaking one of the most important Romani laws.  Marime’ has dual meaning to the Gypsy.  It refers both to a state of pollution or defilement as well as to the sentence of expulsion imposed for violation of purity rules.  Pollution taboos and their names vary from group to group.  Gypsies define themselves in part by their adherence to cleanliness rituals called mokkadi or code of cleanliness.
 
“Many of the Gypsy traditional laws of hygiene deal with water.  Gypsies must wash only in running water.  A shower is acceptable, but a bath would not be.  Dishes cannot be rinsed in the same sink or basin that is used for washing clothing.  The kitchen sink is only used for washing dishes and cannot be used for washing your hands.  The mokkadi has strict rules for washing clothes, self, and for food preparation.

“Romani standards of hygiene are high, and cleanliness is an important issue in their culture.  The code also states that some animals are considered impure, for instance cats because they lick themselves. Dogs, although part of families in the past when they lived in wagons, were never allowed inside. Dogs are tolerated outside the house because of their value as watchdogs.  Grandmother is not trying to be difficult. You just need to understand that this is how she was raised.”
 
Angela took a sip of her tea then burst into laughter.  “The Romani certainly have a lot of rules.  Maybe you could write them down for me so I don’t upset poor Alfina any more than I already have.”
 
I smiled.  “I don’t know all of them, but I’ll do the best I can.  I’ll have a talk with Grandmother too.  She was taught not to discuss Romani ways with gaje, and since you are friends, I think she can be convinced to open up to you about the culture.”
 
“James, can you explain the difference between Gypsy, Romani, and Travelers; or are they all the same?”
 
“The term Gypsy, based on a mistaken belief that they came from Egypt, and sometimes used derogatorily, is used to refer to several ethnic groups of which the Romani are one. Others are the Jevgjit in Albania, the Rudari in Hungary and the Sinti in Germany. Roma, which in the Romani language means people, originate from northern India.

"The Romani language is of Indo-Aryan origin and has many spoken dialects, but the root language is ancient Punjabi, or Hindi. The words Roma and Romani have nothing to do with the country Romania in which the Roma are called Tisane, which means Gypsy.

“Irish Travelers and Scottish Travelers are a distinct group and do not refer to themselves as Gypsies. Irish Travelers have been known as a distinct group since 400AD.  They have their own language called Cant, Gammon or Shelta.  I believe the confusion comes from the fact that they were all originally wanderers or spent their lives travelling.”
 
Angela grinned and poured me a second cup of tea. “Okay, James, that’s more information than my little brain can hold for one day.”
 
The kitchen door slammed shut.  Grandmother smiled and said, “Can I have some tea?”
 
Angela retrieved a clean cup from the cupboard.  “Of course, dear, I’ll pour you a cup while you wash up in the bathroom.”
 
Angela looked over at me to make sure she had not stepped on Grandmother’s toes.  I grinned.  She was a quick study.  She did just fine.

While Grandmother was in the bathroom, I whispered to Angela, “I’ll try to talk to Grandmother about taking her medicine.  I’m not sure if she will listen.  I’ll discuss it with Dr. Williams the next time we meet.”

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. After discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, James's life is turned into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 53
Grandmother Shows Her Stuborn Side

By Sasha

Grandmother appeared tired.  It was hot outside and at her age, working in the garden had to be exhausting.  I could hear her feet shuffling as she walked slowly down the hallway.  Angela refilled the kettle and placed it on the stove.   She leaned against the counter, and with a look of distress on her face, said, “I feel like I’ve entered the twilight zone.  I consider myself an educated woman, but I just find it hard to believe people like Lucian, Dark, and your father exist.  How are such horrid creatures able to live among us without anyone noticing them?”
 
“That’s a question my family has been asking since the day I turned Dad into the police.”
 
“James, if Alfina continues to cling to living her life as a Romani, she may never fully adjust to our ways.  Can you explain how your father was able to escape so easily and live what appeared to be such a normal life?  Wouldn’t Dark have been as demanding of him as he was of Alfina?”
 
“According to Grandmother, he was.  Everything seemed to change when he was forced to go to school.  He and Dark fought constantly, and when he got the chance to go to college, Dad took it.  It is possible Dad was ashamed of his family and worked very hard to hide his past.  That’s probably why he went back and got the journal.  He didn’t want anyone to read it.
 
“I’m not sure how much Dad knows about Grandmother.  The King County Prosecutor already announced Dad was to be charged with Alicia’s murder, but Dad and his attorney have remained silent on the subject. To my knowledge, there has been no mention of what the police found at the cabin.  Although Snohomish County will be calling a Grand Jury, I have serious doubts Dad will be willing to testify.  As far as I know, he doesn’t know that Grandmother will be testifying against him.  With Grandmother’s testimony and the journal, I am sure Dad will be found guilty of Dark and Alicia’s murder. In my opinion, it will be a very short trial.”
 
 Before Angela had a chance to respond, Grandmother entered the room.
 
“James.  You no need to worry.  There be no trial, and I no need to testify.”

“I am sorry, Grandmother, but you WILL have to testify.  Mr. Hurley is the best.  He will help you prepare.”
 
Grandmother smiled again.  “No, James.  There be no trial.  I make sure of that. You also be wrong about Alexandru.  He be Romani, just like me.  He no change into gaje.”
 
“Grandmother, you haven’t seen or spoken to Dad for nearly twenty-five years.  Believe me when I tell you he never showed any evidence of being Romani.”
 
Angela poured Grandmother a cup of tea and placed it on the table.  Grandmother drank the tea, then got up and without saying another word, went back outside.
 
Angela picked up the teacup and placed it into the sink.  She shook her head and with a confused look on her face said, “James, what the hell was that all about?”
 
“Sorry, I don’t have the damnedest idea what Grandmother is talking about.”
 
* * * * * * * * * *
 
I followed Grandmother outside where she was back on her knees digging in the garden.  I was pleased she had found something to occupy her time but was concerned with her unexpected comments about not testifying.  I knelt beside her. 
 
“Grandmother, we need to talk.”
 
“James, they be nothing to talk about.”
 
“No, we have a lot to talk about.  What do you mean when you said there will not be a trial?”
 
Grandmother didn’t bother to look at me when she spoke.  “Everyone know Alexandru be guilty and he will pay for everything he do.  He no need a trial for that.”
 
“No, Grandmother.  That is not how it works.  He has to have a trial before he can be punished.”
 
“James, you no know the power I have over Alexandru.  When I say there be no trial, there be NO trial.”
 
Grandmother turned her back to me and continued working in the garden.
 
Determined to make her understand, I tapped Grandmother on the shoulder to get her attention.  “Please, you have to listen to me…”
 
“James, I no want to talk about this anymore.  I have important work to do."

It was obvious Grandmother wasn't in the mood to talk and pressing her further wasn't going to work.  I went back into the house and not expecting an answer, asked Angela a question.

"What does Grandmother mean, she has power over Dad?"

Angela shrugged and gave me her your guess is as good as mine look.

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. After discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, James's life is turned into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him. Short, but necessary chapter. When I do the final edit, I will probably combine it with the previous chapter.

Chapter 54
Why Dad's Shoes?

By Sasha

Before leaving, Angela assured me she was not upset with Grandmother.  She was just worried.  “James, Alfina is so vulnerable right now.  I can’t imagine being in her shoes.  She is just taking shelter in what she knows best.  I suggest you let her be.  She has a lot to deal with and doesn’t need you or me dragging her kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century.”
 
Once again, Grandmother appeared in the kitchen without warning.  “James, you no need to worry about me.  I be fine.  Angela not used to Romani ways.  We both have much to learn.  Soon Alexandru no be a problem.  I already take care of everything.”
 
I didn’t know what to say about Grandmother’s cryptic comment.  She stood with her hands in tight fists pressed against her hips.  I knew immediately, questioning her about what she meant was pointless.  I hugged them both and then left, feeling more confused than before I arrived.
 
* * * * * * * * * *
 
I got off the bus a block from my apartment.  As I walked up to the front door, I saw Charlie sitting on the steps.
 
“James, where have you been?  I’ve been waiting here for more than an hour.”
 
“Sorry, Charlie, but I wasn’t expecting you.  Why didn’t you call me on my cell?”
 
Charlie laughed.  “You obviously forgot to turn on your perfect memory today; I don’t have a cell phone.”
 
“Sorry, I forgot.  I’ve had a lot on my mind today.”
 
“What’s so important?  You and Mac playing detective again?”
 
I didn’t find Charlie’s sarcasm amusing.  “No, I spent the morning at Angela’s with Grandmother.  I’m worried about her.”
 
“She seemed fine yesterday when Mom and I saw her.”
 
“Grandmother didn’t say anything about you or Mom visiting.”
 
“We didn’t actually visit.  She asked us to take her to our old house so she could see where Dad lived.”
 
“Damn it, Charlie, why didn’t you tell me this?”
 
“What difference does it make?  You don’t tell me what you do most of the time.”
 
“Come on, Charlie, that’s not fair.  Why did she want to see where Dad lived?”
 
“She didn’t say.  I think she was just curious.”

It was obvious to me that when God passed out curiosity, Charlie was in the bathroom.

 
“Curious about what?”
 
“James, it’s hot out here.  Can we at least go inside and have this conversation?”
 
I removed my keys from my pocket and unlocked the door.  Without waiting, Charlie pushed past me and headed down the hallway.  He stopped in front of the door to my apartment and impatiently waited for me to open it.  Inside, he tossed his backpack onto the couch and plopped himself down on the chair.
 
“James, what’s the big deal about Grandmother going to see where Dad lived?”
 
I picked up Charlie’s backpack and placed it on the floor before sitting on the couch.  “Grandmother is acting strange and talking about Dad not going to trial.  She said she has some sort of power over him and only added that she had already taken care of everything.  Neither Angela nor I have any idea of what she is talking about.”
 
Charlie shrugged.  “Don’t ask me.  She didn’t say anything to me about Dad.”
 
“She had to say something.  What did she and Mom talk about in the car?”
 
“Nothing important.”
 
“Damn it, Charlie.  Important or not, I want to know what they talked about.”
 
“Stupid stuff.  Grandmother wanted to see a pair of Dad’s shoes; and no, I don’t know why she wanted to see them.”
 
“Did Mom show them to her?”
 
“Yes, Mom took her into the bedroom and gave her a pair of his dress shoes.”
 
“Grandmother then sat on the bed, mumbled something in her strange language, and then asked to go back to Angela’s.  She took the shoes with her… That’s all that happened.  Like I said, she didn’t explain why she wanted the shoes and neither Mom nor I asked.”

 
Nothing Charlie said made sense, but I knew it meant something to Grandmother.  Why the hell would she want a pair of Dad’s shoes?  I knew going directly to Grandmother was what I should do, but she wasn’t in a talkative mood.  I was afraid if I pushed too hard, she might clam up completely.  All I could think of to do was go back to the library and see what I could find out about Romani culture and shoes.  Something told me that there wouldn't be much on the subject other than a brief discussion on Romani fashion.  Figuring out Grandmother was turning out to be far more difficult than any quantum physics class I’d taken.
 
* * * * * * * * * *
 
I called Mom and asked her to come and pick up Charlie.  While I had her on the phone, I asked, “What does Grandmother want with Dad’s shoes?”
 
Mom responded defensively.  “I don’t know.  She just said she wanted a pair of his shoes.”

Mom and Charlie's lack of curiosity amazed and irritated me.
 
“Mom, did she call you or did you call her?”
 
“What difference does that make?”
 
“Please, just answer the question.”
 
“Angela called and told me Alfina wanted to visit the house.  I asked her why, and she said something strange.  She said, “To make things right.  It didn’t make much sense, but Alfina has strange ways and I didn’t feel right questioning her reasons.  I picked her up and we drove over to the house.”
 
“When you gave her the shoes, what did she do next?”
 
“Nothing.  She said something in Romani, and then asked for a paper bag to put them in.  We drove back to Angela’s, had lunch, and then went home.  She didn’t mention the shoes again.”
 
“What did she do with them after you got to Angela’s?”
 
“Before going inside, she walked around to the side of the house and placed them in the garden.  I thought that was odd, but I didn’t want to embarrass her by asking her what she was doing.
 
“James, what is going on?  Why are you asking me about this?  Is something wrong?”
 
“I don’t know, but I have to find out before something terrible happens.”
 
I rely on facts not gut instinct, but my stomach was in a turmoil and screaming for my attention.  Grandmother was up to something, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was.  Whether I liked it or not, I had no choice but to talk to Grandmother.

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. After discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, James's life is turned into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

Chapter 55
The Power of Belief

By Sasha

Charlie and I waited on the front steps for Mom.  She agreed to lend me the car after I drove them home.  Charlie asked if he could go with me, but became angry when I said no.
 
“Damn it, James.  I never get to spend time with you anymore.”
 
“Charlie, try to understand that this is not a social visit.  I need to ask Grandmother some questions that might upset her.”
 
“I don’t see what’s so damn important about a stupid pair of Dad’s shoes.”
 
“Charlie, that’s what I’m trying to find out.”
 
Charlie snickered.  “Well, what happens if Grandmother refuses to tell you?  What are you going to do—sick Mac on her?”
 
Charlie’s sarcasm was beginning to irritate me.
 
 * * * * * * * *
 
The drive from the rental house to Angela’s was only ten minutes.  I pulled into the driveway and parked behind her green Subaru.  As I walked up the sidewalk, the front door opened and Angela greeted me with a smile.  “Alfina told me you’d be coming over.  I should know better than to doubt her.  Come in.  I’ll put the kettle on for a pot of tea.”
 
Angela took a few steps then paused. “Alfina’s in the backyard waiting for you.  I’m worried about her.  She was fine earlier but about an hour ago complained about a headache.  James, please try not to upset her.”
 
“Has she been taking her medication?”
 
Angela shook her head.  “No.  She insists everything she requires can be found in the garden.  I’ve tried, but she just won’t listen to me.  Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”
 
I doubted I could say anything to Grandmother that would make her do something she didn’t want to do.  Until a few weeks ago, she hadn’t seen another human being for five years, learned to live off the land, and never seen a doctor.  Before that, Dark ruled over her with an iron fist.  I found it amazing she had come as far as she had. Now, as far as she was concerned, there was only one way to do things, and that was her way.
 
Grandmother was curled up on the lawn chair in the backyard.  As I approached, she opened her eyes and smiled.  “Hello, James.  I no surprised you be back again.  You talk to your mother, now you have questions, yes?”

Grandmother looked tired; her skin was pale, and her hands trembled.  “Grandmother, you look terrible.  Are you feeling ill?”

“James, you no come here to ask foolish question.  I be fine.  Ask what you must ask.”

Grandmother wasn’t going to make this easy.  “Okay.  Are you a drabarni or drabengi?”

“Yes, I be a healer and I also make protection against bad luck, or bibaxt, and supernatural spirits or ghosts, called muló.”

“Is that why you wanted Dad’s shoes?”

Grandmother’s smile disappeared.  “Ah little one, you want to know the curse and how it work.  No, I think that now is not the time for there are ears everywhere, and the curse is my secret.  If you, a gaje, wish to learn of the curse you can ask. I might tell, and then again I might not.”
 
“Please, Grandmother, I have to know what you have done.”
 
“Do you believe?   Curse only work on those who believe.”
 
I knew about voodoo death, a term invented by a physiologist named Walter Cannon whose main work was on the body's fight or flight response. Later studies showed that psychosomatic death is entirely possible and does occur in certain situations. The basic idea behind voodoo death is that a person can be so afraid of something that he causes himself to die from the stress of encountering that fear. Even though voodoo is used in the name, any fear or shock from any culture, including Romani, can cause this condition.
 
“Does Dad believe?”
 
Grandmother stared at me for several seconds before responding.  “Yes, Alexandru believe.  He be the one who teach me the ways.  He learn from Dark who learn from Lucian.  Now Alexandru have reason to be afeard of me.  What goes around comes around.  It be done.  Our days be numbered.”
 
I tried to tell myself Grandmother was talking foolishness, but I knew the power of belief. It has been proven many times.  In a sense, a person who experiences voodoo death wills himself or herself to die. This is why this type of death is so often called psychosomatic, as it is utterly real to the individual to such a degree that he or she actually causes the symptoms.
 
“But if Dad does not know you placed a curse on him, it won’t work.”
 
“No worry.  I be sure Alexandru know about the curse.  Angela help me, she write the words.”

I heard the sound of glass breaking behind me.  I turned to see Angela gasping in shock.  A shattered teapot and three teacups lay on the ground. “Alfina, how could you involve me in such an evil scheme?”
  
“Alexandru be evil.  If I no stop Alexandru, I be evil too.”
 
“No, Alfina, I cannot be a part of this.”
 
I grabbed Angela before she collapsed.  I carefully helped her to a chair.  “What did Grandmother ask you to do?”
 
Angela buried her face into her hands. “I wrote the words Alfina asked me to write.  I saw no harm in doing that.  It was a letter to your father.  I sent it to the prison the day I wrote it.”
 
“What did it say?  When did you send it?”
 
Grandmother interrupted.  “James, stop!  You make Angela afeard. I make sure the curse no come back to her; only me.”
 
I suddenly realized what Grandmother meant when she said ourdays be numbered.  Gypsies cannot be desecrated and they do not condone necromancy, death, or undeath. They cannot be Dark Knights. To a Romani, a death spell means certain death to the person the spell is cast upon as well as the person that casts the spell.  “Grandmother, please, tell me what you wrote in the letter to Dad.”
 
“James, it no important.  It be done.  It cannot be undone.”
 
“No, there must be a way to stop this.”

Angela gripped my hand.  “I remember what it said.  I thought it was just a mother’s reprimand to her son, a lesson in Karma.  I think it was something like this:

Before the night is over
Before the night is through
Whatever you have done to me and others
will come right back at you

Alfina signed it with seven X's and said Alexandru would know it was from her.”
 
“Grandmother, why do you need his shoes?  Why did you need them?”
 
Grandmother laughed.  Neither Angela nor I saw the humor.  “I make sure I no fail.  I put poison in the shoes, speak the special words, and then plant them under my bedroom window in case Alexandru no receive my letter.”
 
Grandmother looked at me with sadness in her eyes.  “James, I believe and Alexandru believe.  It no important if you or Angela believe.”
 
What terrified me was the reality that I did believe.  I didn’t care about Dad, but I could see Grandmother slowly dying in front of me as each second passed. When I tried to put my arms around her she insisted I not touch her.
 
“No, it bad to touch the dead or dying.  That be why I outside.  I cause mareme' for Angela by dying in her house.  James, you must promise to have someone burn my clothes when I be gone.  I no want you to touch them.  That also be mareme'.”
 
Listening to Grandmother felt unreal.  My world consisted of logic, science, and facts, not voodoo, mareme’, and spells.  But I could not deny what was happening. 
 
The sound of my phone ringing startled all of us.  I looked at the screen and my heart skipped a beat.  It was Mac.  I didn’t answer.  A few minutes later, the phone rang again.  This time Mac left a message:  James, call me immediately. Again, I ignored the call.  The third time it rang I finally answered.
 
“Mac, this really isn’t a good time to talk.”
 
“James, this is important. I was just notified by Walla Walla that your father is dead.”
 
I dropped the phone and looked over at Grandmother.  She smiled at me, took a deep breath, and exhaled for the last time. 

Tears streamed down my cheeks.   Angela was also crying.  I stood up, walked over to Grandmother and in an extremely loud voice yelled, "Screw Mareme'." I gently closed her eyes, put my arms around her, and kissed her on the forehead.  "Rest in Peace, dear Grandmother.  God knows you have earned it."

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. After discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, James's life is turned into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him. There is one more chapter...The Funeral. I hope to post it by Friday.

Chapter 56
The Heir Apparent

By Sasha

“How you doing, kid?”

The sound of Mac’s voice reminded me of how much I liked the guy.  “I’m doing fine.  How about you?  I bet you are relieved the case is over, and you no longer have to put up with me.”

Mac laughed.  “Don’t tell anyone, but I actually miss your wise ass mouth.  You may be a pain in the ass, but a damn smart one.”

Mac leaned over the railing and gazed out over the Sound.  A cool breeze blew through his thick gray hair, causing it to flap against his forehead.  He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope.  “This was found in your Dad’s cell.  You know anything about it?”

I opened the envelope, and as I removed the single sheet of paper inside, I immediately recognized the seven X’s at the bottom.  Seeing them brought tears to my eyes.  “Sorry, Mac, I don’t know what this is.”

Mac laughed again.  “You’re a lousy liar, James.  Did you forget I’m a detective?  I did my own research.  Besides, Angela told me about what Alfina did.”

I didn’t respond.

“James, there is no way I would ever put this into the file.  My captain would force me into early retirement if I suggested that your Dad died of a curse your grandmother put on him.  Personally, I’m going with the coroner’s finding.  Your dad died of a massive heart attack.  End of story.”

Mac pulled a yellow lighter out of his pants pocket and handed it to me.  I lit the corner of the paper and watched it as it turned to ash before dropping it into the water.  “Thanks, Mac.”

When I walked into the station six months ago and handed Mac the evidence against Dad, becoming friends with the lead detective was the furthest thing from my mind.  I suddenly laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?”

“Do you think you’ll ever have another case as crazy as this one?”

“Do you mean one with serial killers, bodies buried in backyard gardens, kidnappers, gypsies, curses, and a smart ass kid genius taking over and solving the case?  No, a homicide detective only gets one of those in a career.”

Mac cleared his throat, hoping to hide the emotion in his voice.  “You miss Alfina, don’t you? I never told you but she called you the Heir Apparent.  I think she saw you as the new head of the family; the end of the old ways and the beginning of the new.”

I didn’t know what to say.  I could only hope I lived up to her expectations

“How is your family?”

“They are still mad at me for not going to Dad’s funeral, but other than that, they are doing pretty good.  They are moving to Miami to be near Aunt Em and Uncle Terry as soon as Mom transfers the property in Arlington to the State.”

“She could have made a small fortune on that property.”

“Mac, I know it’s hard for you to relate, but our family is already rich—very rich.  Besides, anyone that would want to buy that property with its history is sick.”

“Angela tells me you are going to move in with her.”

“Yes, I think Grandmother would have liked that. Mac, thanks for coming to her funeral.  That meant a lot to me.”

“I think it was a marvelous idea to bury Alicia and Alfina next to each other.”

“That was Angela’s idea.  She thought of her as Alicia’s guardian angel.  I know Grandmother would have been pleased, don’t you?”

Mac put his arm around my shoulder. “How about a cup of coffee, kid?  I know a great place with a sexy waitress with fire engine red hair.”

I grinned.  “Only if you promise to stop calling me kid’.”

The End

Author Notes

James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 175 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. After discovering his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, James's life is turned into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye as he watches his entire family disintegrate in front of him.

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