Anthony Freitas came back in the room, winded. “I found George down the street,” he panted. “He was a mess. He wouldn’t come back with me and said that he needed to go home. Considering his condition, I grabbed him a cab and let him go.”
Sin wasn’t happy, but she understood.
“Ashley, one more question,” Sin said. “Was it the paper and handwriting that freaked out your brother?”
“Maybe. Partly. But I think it was the message more than anything.”
“What about the message? It was only two words.”
Ashley took a deep breath. “You’re next are the exact words she would say when we were about to be punished.”
46
Before Ashley and her attorney left, Sin had her promise to check on her brother and report back.
Checking her messages, Sin found one from Charlie. His message was brief. “We need to talk, but you need to be at my place when we do. Text me as soon as you get there.”
On the way down, Sin sent a text, “Why the Keys?” She wondered why they couldn’t just use the laptop he’d given her.
His reply was direct. “I didn’t give away all my secrets.”
Two hours later, they were sitting in the library of the Johnson place, texting Charlie.
Sin pulled up the Vincent Ash files as well as those on Miranda Stokler/Joanna Ash in anticipation of Charlie’s call. Fletcher and Garcia were engrossed in the files when Charlie’s landline rang.
“What took you so long,” Sin quipped.
“It’s great to hear your voice also, Sinclair.”
Hearing Charlie say her name had a soothing effect. Her posture relaxed, and she slouched in the overstuffed chair. “I miss you too, old man. When are you coming home?”
“Soon,” Charlie answered. “Who’s with you?”
“Fletch and Garcia.”
“Put the phone on speaker. You all need to hear what I have to say.”
Sin pressed the speaker button and placed the headset on the cradle. “We’re all ears.”
“Fletch and Fidel, it’s nice to know that the three of you have reunited.”
“What exactly are you thinking, Charlie?” Fletcher said.
“Before we get too deep into it, Sin, I need you to pull up a file. It’s heavily encrypted so you’ll need my help to access it.”
Sin sat behind the desk and placed her hands on the keyboard. “Ready when you are.”
Charlie directed her through a series of files, all with long alphanumeric access codes. “When you open the next, you’ll get a warning telling you to shut down or all of the data on the computer will be erased in thirty seconds.”
“Great, as if I’m not nervous enough using your equipment,” Sin said.
“Just do as I say and there won’t be any problems.”
“How long is the code?”
She heard a small chuckle come through the speaker. “This one shouldn’t be an issue.”
Charlie gave her the access code and when she tapped the enter key, a large skull and crossbones filled the screen with the warning; a clock began to count down from sixty.
“I’m in Charlie, what’s the code?” Sin’s voice was harried.
“Calm down, Sinclair. You have time. I want you to type in your full name, no caps or spaces but with the apostrophe in O’Malley.”
Sin methodically typed sinclairrachealo’malley as Charlie directed. “Okay, now what? We have twenty-three seconds and counting.”
“Just tap the enter key.”
Sin did and the clock immediately stopped. The skull and crossbones disappeared, and a greeting came up on screen. “Welcome, Sinclair.”
“How did you know I would need these files?”
“I didn’t. This was made a few years ago, and it’s updated automatically.”
Sin was confused, but Charlie was always good at that. The monitor filled with hundreds of files.
“What is all this, Charlie?”
“Most of the files you’re looking at contain the most sensitive information I have uncovered in all my years of digging and untangling conspiracies. But there is one case that I haven’t been able to untangle.”
“The Vincent Ash case,” Sin said, already knowing.
Charlie continued his instructions. “Type ash case notes into the search bar.”
Sin did and one lone folder appeared: Vincent Ash.
“Open it,” Charlie said. “You’ll find a list of dates. The dates of all my notes on the case. Not the official notes, mind you, my notes. The ones no one wanted to listen to back when this case was active. Scroll down to the final date, May 27, 1971.”
“That was a long time ago, Charlie. Why do you remember that date so well?”
“Some things you just don’t forget.”
Sin understood what Charlie meant. She snuck a peek at Fletcher and could almost see his mind at work. I’d bet my life he remembers the date his wife died…the day his world ended.
“Minimize everything on the monitor, sit back, and listen,” Charlie said. “I need your undivided attention. You can read the notes later.”
Sin did as she was asked, and the three of them waited for Charlie’s next words.
They heard Charlie clear his throat, and then he began speaking. “I’ve seen a lot of death and violence in my years, but—”
“This was your first case.” Sin finished his sentence for him. She suddenly connected the dates with Charlie’s career. “You would have been a rookie in 1968.”
“Yeah. I was stationed in the Des Moines, Iowa field office. You never forget your first.”
A clear picture of a young girl lying dead in the mountains of Nicaragua flashed through Sin’s mind. “No, you don’t,” she whispered.
“Even if it wasn’t my first case, I don’t think I could ever forget the Vincent Ash case. The Midwest Slasher was not someone you ever forget.”
“Slasher?” Sin said. “I thought his moniker was the Midwest Mauler. Didn’t he strangle all of his victims?”
“That was how he killed them, but what was kept out of the official files was what he did to them before he killed them.”
“He cut them?”
“More than that,” Charlie said. “These are my private files, Sin. I took meticulous notes. Every nuance was written down. I also took pictures. I have photos taken of the girls before their capture and photos of them when their bodies were found.”
Charlie had Sin maximize the folder on the
