“Homicide?” Kate repeated.
“I don’t think they’ve found any victims in there, Kate. After the girl got away, and the 911 call, they started to canvass the area and found this place abandoned. They found the van in the garage, that 2013 silver Chevy Class B camper, the one sought in the murders in Rampart, New York. The VIN matched.”
“Anything else?”
“They found a small cell in the basement that appears as if someone broke out of it.”
Kate stood there, absorbing every word as Driscoll continued.
“At this point, they think this started at the Mall of America, where the teen was supposed to meet an online friend who turned out to be the abductor. We’ve got people from our bureau there. Anyway, they’re pretty sure it’s Nelson, the guy behind the sixteen murders from New York.”
“This is wild,” Casey said. “I need my long lens and tripod to get shots of the house.”
“Excuse me? You’re Kate Page, with Newslead?”
She turned, nodding.
“Phil Topley, producer with NBC. Would you give us a few minutes for an on-camera interview concerning your search for your sister?”
“Hi, Kate.” A woman shouldered in with a card. “Kelly Vanmeer, FOX. We’d like to talk to you for a live interview.”
Within minutes, Kate was besieged with requests by national and local news organizations. Amid the chaos, the emotional upheaval and her exhaustion, she found a point of crystalline clarity.
My sister was here, in this area, a few hours ago, saving a girl’s life. Vanessa’s alive and fighting. I’ve got to help her. I’ve got to keep the pressure on Zurrn. My God, he’s going to kill her anyway. My silence would only help him. I have to scream for Vanessa!
One by one Kate granted all interviews, telling the world everything she knew about Vanessa, about Sorin Zurrn, Jerome Fell, Carl Nelson. She offered condolences for all of his victims. She found the strength to keep it together, for this was a battle and Vanessa’s life was at stake.
You don’t get this one. We know who you are; we know what you are and we’re going to stop you!
CHAPTER 58
Somewhere in the United States
After driving more than four hundred miles, Sorin Zurrn’s body was still tight with rage.
When he’d finally stopped at a cast-off, godforsaken motel called The Slumbering Timbers, he nearly lost it with the clerk, who took too long to respond to the desk bell. Something to do with his hearing, he’d apologized when he’d emerged from the back, cigar in the corner of his mouth. Pleased to have a guest, he attempted to make amends after glancing through the window at Zurrn’s vehicle as he registered.
“Betcha you don’t get many complaints in your line of work.”
Zurrn stared at the clerk long enough to make him uncomfortable. Then he tossed cash onto the counter to cover the night and snatched his key.
In his room Zurrn set up his laptops and started to work.
He had to think, but it was hard to concentrate in the wake of the day’s events. He removed his thick-framed glasses, wig and goatee, then took a shower. Under the needles of hot water, he pounded his fists to the side of his head.
* * *
After showering, he dressed and walked across the empty parking lot. He’d parked in a remote, dimly lit section that bordered on a wooded area. His vehicle stood alone, hidden in the shadows. He glanced back at the motel. No one else was in sight. His keys jingled as he went to the passenger side of the black van with tinted glass and a small silver cross affixed to each rear window. Signs on the front doors read Vitalee & Denridder Mortuary Services.
A low rumble sounded as he rolled open the side door.
The rear interior was filled with heavy tarp. He threw it back to a reveal a steel casket, secured with a chain and lock. The lock clicked as he opened it and raised the top half of the two-piece lid.
In the darkness, the whites of Vanessa’s eyes glowed as she looked up.
Her mouth was taped.
Her hands and ankles were bound.
“You know what you did, don’t you?”
She stared at him.
“Answer me!”
Vanessa blinked, tears filled her eyes and she nodded.
“You broke the cardinal rule! I was in the process of cultivating a new specimen, and you destroyed that, too!”
Vanessa sobbed.
“After all of our time together, after all I’ve done for you, you betray me!”
He dropped the lid. Secured the chains then returned to his room.
* * *
Energized by his visit with his most cherished specimen, Zurrn resumed work on his laptops, reviewing details, making preparations, activating stages that needed activating.
Near him, the motel TV flickered with the latest on the breaking news out of Minnesota and its connection to the case in Rampart, New York. The case was a lead story across the country. He viewed a special report with caution, concern and a sense of pride.
Carl Nelson was the most wanted man in America.
Variations of his appearance were displayed on the screen.
Zurrn had no concerns. Few people paid attention and he changed his disguises constantly.
“The suspect known as Carl Nelson is believed to be responsible for the murders of sixteen people, possibly more, according to the FBI…”
Photos of the identified victims with locator maps and timelines of their disappearances filled the screen.
My beautiful specimens. Zurrn marveled at his collection.
The story zigzagged with images from the Lost River State Forest to Minneapolis and the Mall of America, then the property in a corner of Hennepin County. There was a range of long shots and aerial footage of the house and garage at Hennepin.
“…sources tell us that a fourteen-year-old girl from suburban Minneapolis was lured to a meeting with an online friend at the Mall of America. That friend turned out to be the wanted suspect, and after abducting the teen and driving to this remote property,
