Lost Boy - Ker Dukey Page 0,27

one else in the building at the time of his death apart from you and Miss...”

“Charlotte.”

“Yes. Miss Mead.”

How would they know that? Whoever was in there had plenty of time to slip out into the crowd before the police even got there. A thunderstorm builds in his eyes. He knows there’s so much more to this. Fate thickens the air, my past rushing into my present. He knows it. I know it.

“Is this him? Willis? Did he kill Abigail? That’s why you’re involved, right?” I clench my jaw. Abandoning the coffee, I fold my arms.

Silence. Our eyes clash, holding, daring.

“I’m going to level with you,” he finally says, letting out an exasperated sigh. “There are similarities to Willis’s MO, so I’m here to make sure we cover everything and catch whoever is doing this.”

Opening his folder, he pulls out a plastic bag with some paper clippings inside, blood coating the paper. “Do you recognize these?” he asks, sliding them over to me.

My eyes bleed with the ink. Newspaper clippings—the ones I kept and read over and over. He tips them onto the table, and they scatter, static pinning them to the wood. I finger through them, my heart racing, eyes burning.

May 31st, 2003

Breaking story

Prison Break

Convicted serial killer Willis Langford, known as the Hollywell Slayer, is believed to be amongst the three escapees of a prison bus that crashed earlier today. A prison bus, transporting thirteen convicts to a new secure prison, Ironport, collided with an oncoming truck, killing three and injuring eleven. Amongst the wounded were four correctional officers who were on board at the time of the incident.

A manhunt is underway to apprehend the men at large.

I tap my finger on the old clipping. “This is your fault.” Resentment overcomes me. “Why? Why not have more patrol cars following the transfer? Have a better secure way to transfer criminals of his magnitude?” I almost choke on the words, anger manifesting the fear and sorrow into rage, disappointment, and resentment.

“You’re right. We failed you and the rest of his victims by allowing him to escape custody.” Terror for what those poor girls went through burrows deep into the marrow of my bones, growing roots, binding us forever. Six victims’ bodies found, one still alive, but they believe he could have killed up to ten. “But it’s too late for that. I can’t go back in time,” he adds.

What would he do differently?

I thumb through more reports. I can state most of these articles from memory. I’ve researched them over and over. Obsessed.

Willis took a deal for a confession. The government didn’t want to put the victims’ families through a trial. He received ninety-nine consecutive years for each case without the possibility of parole.

He served eight of those years before fate changed everything. I sometimes wonder if there is a god. There are thousands of criminals transported across the country daily, yet it was his bus that crashed. Him who survived. Him who escaped.

I swipe to the next article—the one that would bring a monster to our door.

Still at large, Willis Langford proves his ability to stay under the radar as the search for the missing Portland boy continues with little to no leads. Jack Peters, dubbed Portland’s Lost Boy, is hoped to be alive. Vigils have been held, and the police ask the public to keep praying for his safe return.

Any information or sightings can be reported here.

0800-090-Info

They found the other two escapees within a day. Willis was much more calculated than those men. He’s eluded capture for fourteen years, suspected to have killed four more girls while on the run.

Jessica Herbert.

Anne Rivers.

Hannah May.

The last supposed victim linked to him was over a decade ago.

Sarah Gilbert.

All his victims had a gruesome marker. They were all missing their little finger on their right hand, which became known as Langford’s signature back in the nineties.

Thinking about him, what he did to them, is relentless in my chaotic mind, but the question that haunts me most: where was Jack while he was out killing these women? Where is Jack now?

This can’t be Willis Langford. No deaths have been linked to him in over a decade. But that doesn’t stop my mind from racing with what-ifs. It’s too much of a coincidence.

“Do you think Jack’s still alive?” I ask, my heart stopping mid thud as I watch his body language for a lie.

“I do.” He nods, conviction in his gaze when he holds mine. “Would you tell me if he made contact with you?”