The Night Stalker_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [20]
Vonell’s lawyer was playing us like a fiddle, and was going to extract every favor he could on his client’s behalf. I glanced at Cheeks.
“You have a deal,” Cheeks said.
The lawyer dropped his hand on his client’s shoulder.
“I’m glad we’ve come to this understanding,” Vonell said.
“Start talking,” I said.
Vonell smiled, more than happy to tell his secret. “You gentlemen are familiar with Internet chat rooms?”
Cheeks and I nodded.
“There are chat rooms for people with different sexual orientations whose members trade information,” Vonell said. “Things like how to stay out of jail, what to do if your phones are being tapped, that sort of thing. There is one group that I regularly chat with. We call ourselves the Conspiracy Club and have six members. One member is engaged in frotteurism, another in zoophilia, a third in scatologia, one is into klismaphilia, another in coprophilia, and the last member is a pedophile.”
“Hold on,” Cheeks said. “Translate the Latin for me. What are these guys doing?”
“Why don’t you tell him, Jack?” Vonell suggested.
Like so many sexual predators, Vonell didn’t believe the things he did were wrong. Rather, he believed that society was wrong in the way it viewed his behavior. Vonell wanted me to translate to show that he wasn’t the only person in the room who knew what these sick obsessions were. For Sampson Grimes’s sake, I obliged him.
“Frotteurism is an obsession with rubbing,” I explained. “Zoophilia is having sex at the zoo, but not with your girlfriend. Scatologia is a sexual fantasy stimulated by talking or loud belching. Klismaphilia is an obsession with giving and taking enemas—not something you want to put on a job résumé. Coprophilia is an obsession with feces. And we all know what a pedophile is.”
“Very good,” Vonell said.
“And you guys all get on the Internet each night and swap secrets,” Cheeks said.
“That’s correct,” Vonell said. “Several nights ago, the pedophile in our group—a man who calls himself Teen Angel—was discussing the Sampson Grimes kidnapping. He had insider information about what had happened.”
Vonell licked his lips and smiled. It was all I could do not to slug him.
“Go on,” I said.
“Teen Angel said the police were focusing their investigation on the boy’s family, which is common in most child abductions. Teen Angel said the evidence showed the boy had been abducted by a nonfamily member.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Cheeks. His face had gone white.
“What evidence was that?” I asked.
“The torn window screen in the child’s bedroom, which was mentioned in the newspaper,” Vonell said. “Teen Angel said the torn screen showed that the abduction was a game Sampson was seduced into playing.”
“A game?” I said.
“That’s correct. Teen Angel called the game ‘Hide from the Parents.’ He said it was a common game for abductors to play when stealing children from their homes.”
“Did he explain how the game worked?”
“Oh, yes. The abductor gave Sampson candy to entice him into playing, and a toy as a reward for playing. Teen Angel was certain about this.”
“Candy and a toy,” I said.
“Correct. Teen Angel said a specific brand of candy had been used, and was instrumental in keeping the boy quiet.”
“Which brand?” I asked.
“Milk Duds.”
“Why that brand and not some other?”
“I don’t know. Teen Angel also said that he thought Sampson was a precocious child. He believed the boy had an agile mind, which allowed his abductor to trick him into thinking his kidnapping was a game. Teen Angel said it was harder to trick a stupid child than a smart one.”
Vonell leaned back. I could see the dampness where his hands had rested on his jumpsuit. I said, “Anything else?”
“Yes, there was one other thing. Rather important, I think.”
“What’s that?”
Vonell started to answer, then began to violently cough. “I need some water. My throat is bone dry.”
Cheeks went into the hallway to fetch Vonell some water. I leaned forward in my chair, and gave Vonell a harsh look. I had