CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sarah Hartman was Michael Hartman’s younger sister. She had spent two separate stints at Riverside, the first of which had been at the same time as he older brother. Both times had been when Judge Greene’s sister had been there.
"The officers are at the house, but there’s been no answer yet," Moore told Alison once the latter got off the phone.
"I just spoke to Derek," Alison replied. "No one has been able to get through to Sarah or Dr. Connor. They sent a car to his house, but there’s no sign of him."
"Has she taken him?" Moore asked. "Is she the killer?"
"She could be," Alison said. "I mentioned before about the timing.
Why now? Why go after these people now? It might not matter.
If Sarah is the killer, and she's had another psychotic episode, when she does, it doesn't matter.
The pain of what happened to her brother, and the people around him, will have festered inside for years, and she could have snapped. "
"We need to find her before she kills again," Moore said.
"She might be going in and out of psychosis," Alison said. "She’s conscious of what she’s doing, and then she lets the psychosis take over when she comes to kill them. Like un-caging a wild animal."
"I don’t care about a warrant," Moore said. "If we get there, and we still can't get in contact with Sarah or Dr. Connor, we’re going in. We can't let someone else die, and we can't wait around for more information. We need to know what’s going on, and I’ll deal with the consequences."
When they arrived at Sarah’s house, a small home on the edge of Oakland, they found two offices standing by the front door. It was obvious that they hadn’t been able to gain entry to the house and that no one was in.
Alison got straight on the phone to Derek.
"Hey, have you heard from Sarah or Dr. Connor?"
"We still haven’t been able to get through to either of them, and no sign of Connor at his home. I’ll let you know if we hear from either of them."
"We’re going into Sarah’s home now, by the looks of it," Alison said.
"Okay," Derek said before the call ended.
Alison shook her head at Moore to indicate that they hadn’t been in contact with either, and she immediately instructed the officers to gain entry to their home, which they did quickly and efficiently.
The larger of the two went straight to the door and slammed his boot into the area just below the lock. Once, twice, and three times before the door gave and swung open inward.
Alison held back while Moore and the two officers entered. She walked closer to the door and looked back toward the quiet street, hoping that Sarah would arrive home.
She didn’t.
"Hey, come and take a look at this," Moore called from inside.
Alison rushed into the home, knowing that they had their killer. Moore wouldn’t have shouted with such urgency unless she had found something.
Alison almost stumbled as a thought popped into her head. What if they’d found Sarah, and he was the next victim?
That thought was quickly proven wrong when she entered the room where the two officers and Moore were. All of the furniture had been moved into a large pile in the middle of the living room, and the walls were plastered with pictures, four of which had large ‘X’s through them.
"I need to call this in," Moore said. "She’s our killer, and we don't know where she is. We need to get an APB out now."
Another hunt for a killer. Mills is still out there somewhere, and so is Sarah Hartman.
Alison walked slowly around the room, being careful not to touch anything on the walls. She looked at the four photos of the deceased, noticing that the picture of Martin Greene had been torn in half and then stuck to the wall. A red pen was scribbled over the tear.
Is that why you did that to him? Did the torn photo inspire you, or was it the other way around?
It wasn’t only photographs of victims and potential victims, but schedules, court documents, work information, evaluations, histories, and far too much more to take in all at once.
Alison did one lap around the room, getting everything she needed from the walls. There was no doubt about it now: Sarah Hartman was their killer.
After the lap, she went through the other doorway to find a small bathroom.
She stopped in shock. That shock passed quickly.
She had seen lots of blood before, but wasn’t expecting it.
There was no dead body in the room. Just blood dripped on the floor and stained the sink, along with handprints on the edge of the bath and bloodied fingerprints on the mirror.
Alison looked into the mirror, imagining Sarah standing there looking into her own eyes after she’d been out through the night to kill two people. They would need to test the blood, but she was sure at least some of it, if not all of it, belonged to the victims.
Did you stop back here in between, or did you go from one murder to the next?
Did you walk to the tortures covered in blood, disguised by the darkness?
What did you see when you looked into your own eyes?
Did you recognize what you did, or did you wake from a fugue to find yourself covered in blood?
Something tugged at Alison. She looked around the room as if she’d seen something and discounted it. She scanned the room again, but nothing jumped out. Then, she went back to the room where the two officers were looking for any indication of where she might go.
There were at least a dozen photos on the wall, some of whom Alison recognized, but all of whom Sarah must’ve blamed. There were three questions that needed to be answered.
Did she know they were now onto her? Was she out to kill someone else as they stood in her home? And who was the next target?
"Dr. Connor," Alison muttered.
She walked the room again, looking for his photo on the wall, but couldn’t find it. She left the room at a sprint. That’s why they couldn’t get in contact with him. She already had him. She’d deviated from her usual routine and had gone after him during the day.
"She has him already," Alison said when she got outside and found Moore. "Maybe she knew we were coming and went after him. We need to find where she’s taken him and if she plans to kill two people at the same time. We have to—"
"Relax," Moore said. "Derek just spoke to him on the phone. He was at a conference in the city, and he just got home. They’re sending the patrol car back over there now to pick him up. She won't get to him."
***
Sarah Hartman switched the radio station in her car to something a little more upbeat.
She was affected by her surroundings, and she found that when she was among positive people, she was far happier.
Surrounded by people with negative outlooks or who picked others apart, she began to feel the same way.
She needed a pick-me-up that late afternoon as she drove home. She had surrounded herself with too much negativity of late, and she needed a change. So, she switched from the heavy rock station to the pop music station.
As soon as she did, her spirit was uplifted.
Is that K-Pop?
She wasn’t able to keep up with the new genres of music that were popping up. The only thing she knew for sure was that she liked it. She bopped her head from side to side as she drove home.
When she turned onto her street, she almost didn't notice the police car parked outside her house. She was five houses away when she spotted it, and she froze. Her mind froze. Her body worked of its own accord, and she almost swerved into a parked car to her right.
Sarah gasped for breath and turned into the space in front of the car she had almost hit.
She watched as two police officers exited the car and walked toward her front door.
She didn't wait to see if they would go in.
If they were there, it was for a reason, and she had no time to waste.
Sarah looked at the rear-view mirror, adjusting it to see herself.
They want to stop me, but they can’t. Not now.
Sarah took a deep breath to calm herself, then turned the wheel and pulled a U-turn. She adjusted the mirror again, looking behind to see them knocking on her door. She calmly drove from her home, knowing she could never return there.
She didn't need to. She would need to find somewhere else to stage her base of operation, but for now, she had to go to him.
As she drove, Sarah looked down at the passenger seat and saw the photograph of Dr. Connor.
She lifted the printout carefully to view the knife underneath.
She had cleaned it well, and the metal looked new, but she knew it still held the taste of blood from her four previous victims.
Soon, you will hold a fifth.
She had memorized the address, and she drove straight there. There was no plan now. She only had to reach him, and if she had to kill him in the middle of the street, then it would be justice served.
As she drove, she tuned back into the music on the radio, which helped calm her.
It was a race against time now, and she was glad she had taken the picture of Connor.
If they went into her home, they would find all of her past and future victims laid out on the wall, but they wouldn’t know she was going after Dr. Connor.
Sarah bobbed her head to the side again as she listened to the music, not understanding any of the words but feeling happy.
It didn't take long to reach Dr. Connor’s home, and she was delighted to see the light on in the front window and his car in the drive.
She had something special planned for him.
After all, he was the one who had made the ultimate mistake.
It was bad enough that they had admitted him to that stinking facility after he had killed two people, one of them a child, no less, but to let him go after only five years.
It was unthinkable that they would do such a thing.
She loved her brother more than anyone in the world, and she hated him in equal measure.
Sarah parked on the street outside his home, and when she got out of her car, she spotted him in his living room through the front window, talking on the phone.
Sarah waited until he had his back to the window before she crept into his front yard and got close enough to hear him through the small upper window that was open on the front of the house.
"No, I’m fine," Dr. Connor said. "I just got home, but I appreciate the concern. No, I never treated her, so I can't comment on how dangerous she might be. I will stay at home and wait for you to get here and pick me up. Thank you for your call, Special Agent Sullivan."
Sarah grimaced and ducked under the window, circling around the house to the back. She couldn’t knock on the door now that he’d been warned.
It would seem that some people in law enforcement are smarter than others. Either I find a way in and take him to deliver what he deserves, or I come back for him later. I’ll leave that up to the hands of fate.