The Therapist Chapter 4

Detective Roberts's cell phone rang. He knew it would be Johnson before he reached for it. “You must have been tired. It’s seven o’clock,” Roberts said. “Yea, I got a whole five hours of sleep. I’m good for two days now. I saw the local news this morning.”

“Yea, that reporters quick, said Roberts. He wrote down the license plate on the Chevy Impala and called it in. Got the guy’s name and checked the registry. He had checked the other two victims and found out the same thing. I had no choice but to confirm it when he called me back,” Roberts offered.

“No worries Jed. With the internet it’s a wonder we’re able to keep any information quiet,” Johnson responded. “The reporter told me for public safety reasons he felt it necessary to say the killer was targeting sex offenders. Even offenders have a right to protect themselves,” he told me.

“Yea, that’s great. Now we’ll have armed sex offenders out there. I’d be willing to bet that a lot of people in this community don’t share those same sentiments,” Dave said into the phone.

“Well,” Roberts said, “maybe they’ll be a little more nervous about committing the crime if they think some guys watching them.” “Which brings us to our killer,” Johnson said. “Did they find any evidence at the scene last night?” “No, and they just finished up a little over an hour ago, same as the last two scenes, no fingerprints, no signs of a struggle, no weapon, no signs of the car being broken into, and no witnesses, none that will come forward anyway.”

Johnson took out a small notebook from his jacket pocket; with his left hand, he flipped a couple of pages. “So all we have are three dead guys who liked little kids. Higgins was forty-four. Stover was twenty-eight and Grabben was thirty-two. All had priors, served time, went through treatment, and were on the registry.”

“Find out who Higgins Parole Officer is. I’ll check Grabben and Stover.” There was a pause, “Roberts.” “Yea.” “After you do that go get some sleep and when you wake up go see Higgins Parole Officer and see what he knows.” “Alright I could use a few hours,” Roberts said and hung up.

Johnson called Probation and Parole. “Good morning, office of Probation and Parole.” “Hi Smitty, Detective Johnson, I need some information on two of the recent murder victims” “Hey Dave, I figured you’d be calling. Which of the dead guys are you looking for?” “Steve Grabben and Pete Stover,” Johnson responded.

“Okay. Stover’s Parole Officer was Jody Fremont and Grabben’s was Dennis Waters.” “Thanks, Smitty. Any chance they’re around?” “No, they’re both out making spot checks right now. You might catch Waters. One of his guys works at a Seven-Eleven next to the Court House. You could probably catch him there.” “Okay Smitty, thanks. I’ll head right over.”

The Seven-Eleven was only a few blocks away. He opened the outside door and ran quickly down the steps. He started the car. He liked this car. It helped that the city paid for it. But he liked how it handled. He pulled on to the road making a right turn.

There were a lot of people out for a Friday. It was going to be a beautiful day, high in the seventies. There were probably a lot of people calling in sick and catching a three-day weekend. He knew there wouldn’t be any weekends for him until he could get this guy.

If this guy knew the three victims were breaking their probation and offending why not report it. Turn them in and help send them back to prison. Johnson knew the answer to that. The answer was because they seldom got sent back to prison. The court would give them one more chance. Set another condition of release which they would ignore.

He hated admitting it but the courts still treated sexual offenses on women and children like it was a boys will be boys sort of thing. It was like the courts telling victims, how bad could it have really been. It was sick to think that society still thought that way. With the sentences handed down though you had to wonder.

He didn’t like to think about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Ridiculous he thought. We should have left there a long time ago. The Afghan men would sometimes kill their wives or sisters for shaming the family. They called these honor killings. Americans became incensed over these acts.

But the same people would argue against a sex offender being given a life sentence after sexually assaulting his sixth victim. What a screwed-up society. Where was the justice in that? Didn’t people have any idea what that type of crime did to a child’s psyche?

He’d reached the corner of Center Street and Sterns Avenue. He waited for the light to change. The Courthouse was on his left. A few people were going in and out. The Seven-Eleven was across the street from him.

People talked as they crossed the walk in front of him probably discussing the latest killing. It had taken place less than a mile from here. In a small city like this, it was major news. People would be relieved to find out the recent victims were the scourge of society.

A horn made him jump. The light had turned green and the woman behind him was impatient. He waved his hand and gave a little nod to acknowledge his mistake. He turned and then took a quick right into the parking lot of the Seven-Eleven.

Water’s was just coming out the door. “Smitty called and told me you were looking for me,” Waters said as Johnson got out of the car. “Yea, I wanted to talk to you about Steve Grabben.” “I guess I won’t be checking in on him today.”

“Not unless you want to go to the morgue,” Johnson replied. A couple entering the store turned to look at them, Smitty lowered his voice. “I heard it on the news this morning. I guess you don’t have any leads if you want to talk to me.”

“No nothing. So far this guy’s perfect. Three crime scenes, no evidence,” Johnson said. “You’re pretty sure it’s the same guy,” Waters replied. “His calling card is a newspaper article of the offender’s conviction. It’s been found in the front seat of each of the victim’s cars. The killer wanted them to know what they were dying for. It seems it’s the last thing he wants them to know.”

“Okay,” Waters said. “So Grabben, Higgins and Stover, were all convicted and completed treatment while serving their time. Then why were they murdered?” “Maybe the killer doesn’t think they were cured,” Johnson replied. “Maybe he thinks they just did treatment to get back on the street quicker. Prison isn’t really a place a convicted sex offender feels comfortable. You know that.”

“Why would the killer think that,” Waters responded while sipping his coffee? “I was hoping you might be able to help me with that one,” Johnson said. “You know the terms of Grabben’s release better than I do. Has he been exhibiting any behaviors that might be a cause of concern or a violation of his release,” Johnson asked?

“Look if I busted these guys for every little thing that violated their release, they’d be back in jail within thirty-days. Grabben couldn’t be within a hundred feet of children twelve and under unless there was another adult present. He was not supposed to be in places where unsupervised children twelve and under might be.”

“Do you think he was doing his best to abide by that?” “I think for the most part he was. It’s never black and white. He has to go to stores to shop or buy things. Could he get close to a kid then? Sure he could. Could he voyeur on them? Sure he could. You can’t follow them everywhere. Little things that you and I wouldn’t even think of they get off on,” Waters said.

“So nothing that stands out that might make you stand up and take notice,” Johnson asked? “Well, a couple of weeks ago I was driving through the Plaza. I came by the movie theater just as Toy Story 3 was getting out. A lot of kids with parents were crossing so I slowed up. I saw Grabben come out of the theater. I parked my car and followed him to his car.”

Waters paused, thinking. “I said, what’s up today Steve?” “Nothing,” he said. “I could see he was nervous. I asked him where he was coming from and he said the Dollar Store. I told him he was lying that I had seen him come out of the movies. He told me he was at the dollar store, he thought he saw someone he knew so he just ran in but it turned out to be someone else.”

Waters threw up his hands; “Look Johnson, I knew he was lying. I asked him to empty his pockets. I figured he might still have the ticket. He emptied them but he was clean, nothing in them. I told him if I saw him in there again I would report it and let the judge decide. He assured me it wouldn’t happen again.”

“Did you check at the ticket booth to see if he bought a ticket? Did you check the Dollar Store to see if he’d been in there? Did you see if anyone in the theater had seen him watching the movie or bothering children? Jesus Waters,” Johnson was mad.

“I wasn’t on duty when it happened and I was already running late picking up my own kids. So no I didn’t. I did go back a few days ago but nobody remembered anything. They see so many crowds that they all blend in together. Look, Dave, you know what our caseload is you know we can’t be on these guys’ twenty-four-seven.

There is absolutely no way to guarantee these guys are following the rules, you know it, I know it, the judges know it and worst of all these predators know it.” “Okay, look I understand how it can happen. But for this investigation let’s assume he was in the movie that day. He knows he’s not supposed to be there. So he throws the ticket on the floor inside the theater,” Johnson said.

“Then he spends his time watching the kids. Seeing which ones are left unsupervised.” Waters added, “Probably which ones go to the bathroom by themselves.” “Right,” Johnson replied. “But what Grabben doesn’t know is that someone is watching him. Without realizing it the predator became the prey.”

“It makes sense,” Waters said. “If you’re right our killer understands these bastards and their patterns.” “That gives us somewhere to start,” Johnson replied. “Who would have that kind of understanding, an offender, Parole Officer, Prison Guard, or the Therapist,” Johnson laughed out loud? “Shit Johnson, what’s so funny,” Waters asked?

“Oh, Roberts and I have taken to referring to who’s ever doing this as the Therapist. We figure he doesn’t think treatment really works. So he gives them the only cure that can be guaranteed, he kills them.” Waters said,

“Better not let that get out. The liberal media around here would crucify you. They’d say you weren’t really serious about catching this guy, that you were letting him get away with murder. I’d bet your popularity would rise in the local community, however.