The Therapist Chapter 5

Charles Laramie
ILLUMINATION Book Chapters
9 min readApr 1, 2021
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He left Waters and went to find Stover’s Parole Officer, Jody Fremont. She was new to Probation and Parole having come over from ten years at social services. Smitty was still at the front desk and told him Fremont was in her office. “She just got back about ten minutes ago,” Smitty said. “I told her she should expect you.”

Dave had only met her once. He walked down the hall. She was the third office on the left. Her door was open and she was sitting at a desk working on the computer. He gave a quick knock on the door frame. “Ms. Fremont.” She jumped a little and turned to look at him.

“Sorry, you startled me a bit.” She looked to be in her mid-thirties with straight shoulder-length brown hair. She was probably five-six, hundred hundred-ten, hundred fifteen pounds with hazel eyes. He registered these things almost instantly. It was a reflex action after so many years.

“I wanted to ask you about Larry Stover.” “Smitty told me that I should expect you. I was sorry to hear about Stover. He was doing well I thought. He seemed to be getting his life in order.” “When was the last time you saw him.” “I have to check my calendar.” She glanced at her desk, running a finger along with a beat-up calendar full of names, dates, and phone numbers.

It was the same with his. “It was a couple of days before he was killed. I think it was a Monday. Yes, here it is June twenty-eight. I stopped by his work about 11.30 am.” “Where was he working,” Dave asked? “He was working at Taco Bell. He said he needed a job until he could find something that paid better. He was looking for a construction job.”

“How many of the people working that day were teenagers,” Johnson asked? “All of them accept the manager. I asked him about that. Said it must be hard not really having anyone his age to talk to. He said he always found that he related better to teenagers. Felt like they looked up to him.”

“Did you ask any of the teenagers there how they felt about working with him?” “No everybody was busy working and as I said, he seemed happy and doing well. Besides, you know they don’t have to disclose. The law says offenders have a right to privacy too Dave.”

“You know his victims were young teenage girls?” “Yea, I thought you might be leading the discussion that way. I figured this setting with other teens around along with the manager was a place for him to practice his coping skills.” He could tell by her face, that she understood he wasn’t happy about that.

“He was twenty-eight Ms. Fremont. I’ve found by the time they reach that age the best thing you can do is suggest they remove themselves from high-risk situations. The fact he put himself in that situation suggests to me he was in his cycle. Did you see any customers that day who were acting strange, stood out, or might have been watching our guy?”

“No, there was a guy there with his kids having lunch. They were sitting on the other side of the room, his kids were little. He had his hands full. There was a mother with her daughter, it was the only reason I remember the customers.”

“All right that’s it for now Ms. Fremont. If you think of anything else call me.” “I will detective. Do you think the same guy killed all three of these men?” “Yea, it has to be the same guy.”

***

Ryan arrived at school around seven-thirty. He took a right onto Grove Street. There were a couple of houses on the right then the school. Across the street from the school, more houses lined the street. Many of his students lived in those houses. It made for a short walk to school. The parking lot was one way. Oddly enough he found this irked him. He could see his parking spot but had to continue in front of the school entering the drive by turning right on the other side of the building and driving around.

Students were already walking up the front sidewalk. Others were on the stairs and entering through the black doors. It was a beautiful old building made of white marble. Barton was an old quarry town. Marble from these quarries had been shipped all over the world during their hay day. Turning right into the drive he saw the basketball courts and the field used for gym classes.

His first-class wasn’t until seven fifty-five but he liked to have a couple of minutes to relax and get set up. Not too many people were there when he arrived. The secretary was in the office at her desk. The early arriving students were moving in the hallways banging Charles Laramie 38 locker doors, listening to music, or catching up on rumors. He laughed to himself thinking there was a lot of teenage drama in this building. “Good morning Mr. Johnson.” “Good morning Jacob, how are you doing today?” “Good.”

He headed up the stairs to the second floor where his classroom was located. The newspaper was in his mailbox outside his room. He grabbed the paper, unlocked the door, and went in. He sat down at his desk and unfolded the paper. The headline in bold letters read, “Police Believe Recent Murders Committed by the Same Person.”

Ryan didn’t bother with the rest of the article he already knew what it would say. People would be talking about it in school. Manchester was only seven miles from Barton and people here were nervous. They wouldn’t be quite as nervous after reading the paper today. They would realize now they were not the target.

There would be lots of speculation as to whom and why the killer was doing this. His students would come into class talking about it. Asking him who he thought it was. He would say he had no idea why someone would do this. Teachers would be discussing it at lunch or during breaks in the teacher’s room. He could discuss it with them and almost forget that he was the killer they were talking about.

Today he could tell them they had nothing to fear from the killer. That he was targeting sex offenders. He knew some would speak for the dead victims. They didn’t know them as he did. Didn’t monitor them and watch them groom their prey.

He knew sex offenders saw kindness and empathy as weakness. It wasn’t to be respected. It was to be exploited. Everything they did had a motive behind it. It was part of a plan. That plan could take a couple of hours, days, weeks, months, even a couple of years. It was not uncommon for the bastards to be assaulting one victim while grooming two others. If the current victim became difficult they didn’t have to start the grooming process all over.

A lot of them didn’t even see what they did as wrong. They believed their victims liked it or wanted it. They would blame their eight-year-old victim for coming on to them. He had no sympathy for men like Grabben. What was the old saying? They shoot horses, don’t they? He was just putting these animals out of their misery. The first bell rang and students began entering the classroom. They were talking about the latest murder in Manchester.

***

Johnson left Fremont’s office and decided to go to Taco Bell. It was located on the Southern end of the city, just off Route 6 in the South Mountain Plaza. He got there about eleven-thirty. He hoped to talk with employees, who had worked with Stover.

The Plaza was crowded. Looking across with his back to Taco Bell he could see Target, Dicks, Radio Shack, and a Hannaford’s grocery store. Behind them, the mountains rose in the distance. Manchester was nestled neatly between the Taconic Mountain Range on the West and the Green Mountain Range to the East.

He could see cars moving west toward the Taconic’s on the highway about a mile away. Most people, even those from here would probably look at the Taconic Range and call them the Green Mountains. It was a common enough mistake. It was so common it was unlikely that anyone would correct it. At a glance, he saw fifteen to twenty customers having an early lunch.

He saw a young guy about twenty-five with a manager's tag on his shirt. He walked up to the counter. A young girl about eighteen asked him what he would like. He showed her his badge and said he’d like to speak to the manager.

She turned and said, “Brian, there’s somebody here who wants to talk to you.”Brian said something to one of the girls on the line and walked over. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

“You had an employee here by the name of Stover. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about him.” At the mention of Stover’s name, he saw the girl's head turn towards him. Brian looked towards her and she looked away.

Dave waited for Brian to look at him again, then said quietly; “I’ve been doing this for a long time. So it’d be silly of you to tell me I didn’t just see the reaction from both of you. Do you want to tell me about it?” Brian hesitated, looking down.

Dave tried a different tact. “If not we can go downtown and discuss it,” he said. It was the girl who answered first. “My name is Robin, and yea the guy was a creeper.” Brian interrupted, “Look I admit the girls tried to tell me. But I could count on the guy you know. He always showed. He worked extra shifts. He came in even if I told him I needed him in an hour.”

“He came in because we were here,” Robin said. “He was always watching, staring, saying things under his breath. At first, he seemed normal enough. He was kind of cute, single, in his twenties. But one night Sherri needed a ride home. Larry offered to drop her off.

The next day she came to work and I could tell something had happened.” Robin looked at Brian. “She asked me if she could work the register during her shift. I told her sure. She told me what happened when we were on break. On the way home, he exposed himself to her. Said he knew she liked him. He drove around and wouldn’t let her out. Said if she told anybody bad things could happen.”

He looked towards Brian. “What! It was her word against his. Larry said why he would do that. He had a girlfriend. Sherri was just a teenage girl. Anyway, a week later he was dead.” None of this surprised Dave in the least. It was typical. He looked at Brian and Robin. “I need you to really think, were there any customers who came in more than others? Anybody who appeared to be watching Larry,” Johnson asked?

They were silent for a brief moment “No just his probation officer. She came in once a week to see him,” Brian responded. “Probation officer,” Robin said, “probation officer, for what!” “Brian!” Johnson said. “Jesus, your law enforcement you know I didn’t have the authority to tell them,” Brian defended himself.

“Who was this guy,” Robin asked? “He was a registered sex offender. He targeted young teenage girls,” Johnson replied. “You bastard Brian, you knew this and didn’t tell us. That is so freaking wrong Brian, so freaking wrong.” Is there anybody else working here we should know about? How about you Brian,” Robin asked?

“Okay! You two can finish this when I leave. Legally, Sherri, Brian couldn’t disclose to you what Stover was. He could however have reported his behavior to Stover’s probation officer. Sherri was glaring at Brian. Dave went on. “Was there anybody else who stood out who might have been watching Larry? Because there’s somebody out there who knew Larry was still a threat and he eliminated it.”

They both shook their heads no. “If you think of anything please let me know.” Dave gave each of them a card and an extra one for Sherri. “Have Sherri call me. I’m going to need to talk to her. I’ll need her full name and address too.” “Okay,” Brian said. Johnson could tell he was nervous.

Sherri’s parents were going to have a lot of questions, especially why Brian had let her take a ride from a registered sex offender. “Brian, you’re the manager, you have to look out for your employees. Sometimes you have to be unpopular with one or two of them. It comes with the territory. This can be a chance to learn that. It could have been a lot worse. You were lucky. Remember if you think of anything call me,” Dave reminded them.

Brian handed him a sticky with Sherri’s full name and address. “Okay I will,” he said. Johnson walked out the door, shaking his head. He knew it was likely Brian was going to be looking for a new job soon. If Sherri didn’t call him by tomorrow he would go see her. See if she noticed anything the night Stover assaulted her. Her parents were going to be furious and rightly so. Christ, he needed a cup of coffee.

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Charles Laramie
ILLUMINATION Book Chapters

I am a father, brother, and a son. Like many I’m a dreamer. I have traveled far and met wonderful people. Regardless of culture our search is the same.