If Only I Knew How to Hate You

Alex

“This is not good,” I mutter, pacing in the police station. I’ve been coming here daily, looking for news. But they don’t have much to go on.

Well, a little. Yes, Drake had broken out of his jail and escaped. Yes, he had taken his old car. Yes, there were traffic pictures of him on the road- before and after the times he had supposedly taken Bailey. But there weren’t pictures of her anywhere. However, the little thread I noticed… maybe that’s enough? I’ve been pacing since I figured it out, it seems, trying to decide if it’s of importance or not. Maybe or maybe not. Tell them? I mean, maybe they already figured that out, and they’ve gotten past that point, or-

“Gaskarth?”

I turn around quickly, seeing Sergeant Matheson the only guy who can deal with me after these two horrible weeks. He’s been in and out and to a few other states, trying to track them down. “Have you found her?” I ask immediately, my heart pounding.

“Not yet, but we do believe we’ve found something,” he adds, trying not to disappoint me. “Just outside of Las Vegas, there’s a small dying town called Burnswick. The hotel, Burnswick Inn, called in just hours ago saying they’d seen the news and had a man- and woman- that fit their descriptions. However, that was over a week ago. They could be anywhere by now.”

My heart drops. “But- but maybe… maybe they’re still in that town?” I try to bring up a spark of fading hope. But we can’t give up! I won’t! So they say there’s an 8.6 % chance she’ll return in one piece- but there’s still that much, right??!!

“Son, do you know Mr. Drake Richards?” Matheson points out. “He’s never left any of his victims alive for over forty-six hours. She was lucky when she escaped him as a kid- very lucky. There’s barely a chance she’s still alive. My men are now looking for her body.”

“No!” I stomp my foot, unable to believe it. “No, she’s not dead, I know it! Please, just- just go to the town, talk to them, anything!” I plead, stepping forward. “She’s alive, I know she is.” I grab his arm, practically begging on my knees.

He looks at me reluctantly, probably wondering whether to call security or the nut house. “Gaskarth, sir… we’re trying. But we’re going off past evidence, you must understand. We still have all of Richards files as a serial killer. He tortured them for two days, killed them, and we’d find them a week later, stuffed in front of some city council, all right?”

I swallow, knowing he is right. But I just know she isn’t dead. Not yet. Close, perhaps- but she’s still breathing. Fine, I decide. If they aren’t going to do anything, then I will. “Fine,” I sigh. “But can I at least have the address of the Inn? I want- I want to see where she might have been,” my throat constricts a little.

Matheson nods and writes it down for me. “Now, please, don’t do anything stupid. Leave it up to us, understand? We’re the professionals and we know what we’re doing.”

“Of course,” I reply automatically. “Thanks. I’ll keep checking up.” I start to walk out to Matt who’s been waiting all this time again, when I recall the folders I’d just turned in, also. My eyes widen and I return back inside, yelling for Matheson.

I find him at his desk. “The people!” I blurt. He stares at me blankly. I swallow, collecting myself. “It’s always the same, sir.” Looking around, I spot his large map of North America. “See? It began in Chicago, twenty years ago. He circled it, see? Every state around it, circle wise. You got suspicious after a while, so he went out of the state for a while. Then it began in another circle, like that, around Wisconsin and Wyoming?” I nod vigorously as Matheson starts realizing it, too.

“I think I see what you mean.” He walks over, peering at the board himself. “Mhmm… I didn’t give you the document, but we have a very long testimony given by seventeen-year-old Bailey,” he eyes me carefully. “She stated they weren’t always in Chicago, he had another place.” He pauses and grabs a file from his desk and starts flipping through it. “Mhm, the way the sun was, that’s all…” He looks up and thinks for a minute, staring hard at the map. “Keep talking, son. Help me think here.”

“Well,” I swallow. “He, uh, he stopped for about two years, and I think that’s when the government was on him- not about the murders, though, but… but Bailey. And her brother. Then he was back at it, and never went by Wisconsin again. But they trail by Wyoming for another few years, plus an extra one in Texas, before he was caught. Then he escaped, and he went back to Chicago to find if anything was left, maybe, and then he found out about Bailey. After that, there isn’t a pattern,” I groan. “They just seem to barely circle the US, how our tour went. Then… whatever’s come since,” I manage after a minute.

He nods. “That’s it,” he says softly. “Son, I think you found it. We barely grazed Wyoming, we thought… he was raised in the east, and they usually stay near home, so…” he nods slowly. “Wyoming.” Then he stares at me. “But you can’t tell anyone, son,” he adds quickly. “You know what you know but don’t tell anyone. I don’t want anything to happen and go wrong.”

A small flame ignites in my chest, unable to be suppressed by anyone now. “Oh… yeah, right,” I nod. “I have to go,” I say quickly and leave. And I walk, calling Missy as I leave the station. “Hey, Missy?” I ask when she picks up. “It’s Alex. They said someone like Bailey and Kevin showed at an Inn in Nevada a last week, and I’m leaving to check it out. From there on, I know they went to Wyoming. If I don’t return, well… you know where he must be.” I swallow and hang up quickly.

At home, I grab anything that I might need. A few clothes, rope, money, food, flashlights and whatever seems right- including some of Bailey’s things. As I’m piling it in my car, though, Missy and Zack show up. “We’re coming,” is all they say before they shove their own bags in. Then, suddenly, I find the three of us on the road, heading towards Nevada.

Just after two in the morning, however, we make it into the stinking little town, which sure is dying out. Looks just like the old west. Old wood and a few brick buildings, all run down. Dust everywhere and too many tumbleweeds to count. “Are you sure this is the place?” Missy asks, stepping out and squinting at the town hotel.

“Has to be,” I shrug. “Middle of nowhere, dying town. Plus it does say Burnswick Inn, you know.” Her only reply is to cough and kick a passing tumbleweed- more, I see, than there are people around. Trudging, we grab our bags and head inside. Zack goes up to ask for rooms and I start walking around, to talk to anyone who’s up... Three people.

“Hi, sir. I’m Alex and I’m looking for my fiancé, a short black-haired girl who might have come here last week?” I ask them all.

The last is a worker, a middle-aged man. “Ah, yes. I’m the one who called in. Heard it on the radio, and the gal fit the description pretty durn well, you know. Stayed a night, and then uppity-left. Older man with her?” With a tight smile, I nod. They manage to give me a little more information, but not much. I can see the room, but there’s nothing there that I can see. So I thank them and head out with my friends for another five hours.

We find ourselves in Wyoming and spend the next three days searching small towns around the state, looking for any evidence. I’ve probably spent hundreds on gas and junk food and hardly slept, but none of us are complaining.

At the end up the next day, the day when Missy’s convincing me to give it up, let the police do the hard work now, we get a small lead, checking out another hotel much like the one in Burnswick. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean,” the manager yawns. “Seen a face like his, sure. People look the same everywhere, you know. And a car like it comes to down now and then. Why? Trying to steal the girl?” He asks after I’ve shown him pictures and everything.

“No. Well, yeah. But- I mean, the man that was with her,” I explain slowly, “isn’t- a, a good man, you could say. He escaped from jail and kidnapped her. So I’m trying to find her.”

He nods. “Well, never know what you’ll find here in this town. You might wanna check that out. Goes to the store for his supplies, you know.” And so I thank him and rush out, telling Missy and Zack.

“Wait, you can’t go now,” Missy says when I head off again.

“Why not?” I frown.

“Well, I don’t know,” she says sarcastically. “Maybe because it’s not even three in the morning and you nearly ran into the wall right there. If we even let you in the street, you’ll trip, get buried in the snow, and we’ll never see you again, either. So we’re all going to get some rest. And it’s already started snowing- September in Wyoming, right?

“But- what if he’s around, now?” I complain.

“At two in the morning?” She raises her eyebrow. “I really don’t think so. So you two have your room, and get some rest. I’m straight across from you, and I’m going to get some solid rest. In the morning, we can start searching. But we stick together. Understand?” She commands.

“You’re bossy.”

“I know. Now shoo to bed,” she adds and heads off.

Sighing, I trudge after Zack and we soon find our rooms, collapsing sleepily onto the beds.