Jack Zane: Evil at Storm Lake

  Chapter 12

  Amy had been researching, reading articles, tracing names and numbers and her first real find was the Hansen family in Broken Bow, Nebraska. She’d been scanning everything she could find on Jack Zane. There was actually more than she thought there’d be. Jonathan had centered on his family, but once Amy started really digging, she’d found all kinds of leads. As is usually the case in research, one piece of writing leads to another, then another and so on. A professor Wilsey, at the University of Chicago, had done some research and a few insightful articles on serial killers, some of which dealt with Jack Zane. Through that Amy had found leads to a few of his former victims. This in turn steered her to an article in the North Platte, Nebraska newspaper. A local reporter had covered the story, interviewed family members and then written a gut wrenching account of what had happened.

  By 1965 Jack Zane had established himself as a murderer. One of his last grotesque acts of violence took place outside the town of Broken Bow.

  In July of that year, Zane was operating throughout the mid-west. Most of the time he’d just rob or steal, but then, for no apparent reason, he’d go off like a time bomb. That was the case July 7th, 1965.

  Zane was on the run; had held up a small grocery in Norfolk, Nebraska, wounded the clerk; took the money and was heading west. The Hansen family, Tom, Louise and their two children, Mike and Ann, were driving up to the Victoria Springs recreation area to do some camping. They had left early that morning to get set up and have some fun before bunking down for the night. They had a family-size tent, cooking gear, sleeping bags and most important, Spots, the family dog, that Mike had named when he was little because Spots was part Dalmatian and covered with… spots. The family loved these get-a-ways and always looked forward to camping out under the stars. They liked to move around when they camped and had found an ideal location, in a thicket of trees near the Middle Loup River.

  The night was warm and the sky was clear, the stars seemed to be only a few hundred feet above them. Mike felt like he could almost reach up and touch them. To his embarrassment, his father actually caught him trying. Tom and Spots were busy gathering firewood, mostly Tom, while Louise and Ann laid out the sleeping bags and set up the gear. Once the tent was up and the campfire was roaring, they decided to roast some marshmallows, and Tom read a scary story; the kids loved it.

  They’d finished up their sticky late night snack, heard another spooky story, which insured them sleeping next to mom and dad, and had crawled into the tent for the night. The campfire was only embers, but still put out enough heat for Spots. The night was quiet now, only the gentle rustle of leaves in the trees from a warm west wind. The Hansen family slept and dreamed, while an incomprehensible evil approached.

  Jack Zane had ditched his car and was now fleeing cross-country. His journey would bring him to Victoria Springs and the Hansen’s.

  From a deep sleep, Tom heard a cry, almost like a scream. He put on his shoes, grabbed his coat and picked up his flashlight. He quietly slipped out of the tent to find out what it was. He circled the tent and checked near the campfire, which was only a glow by now. Where was Spots? It wasn’t like him to wander off. Tom, unable to find him, thought maybe Spots had gone down to the river for a drink. He slowly and cautiously moved in that direction. He didn’t want to call out, for fear he might wake the rest of the family. He found a small path through the brush and walked cautiously while working the flashlight back and forth. Just ahead, he thought he saw something, that familiar black and white, lying still, not moving. His pace quickened, then the shock, “My God, it’s Spots!” He was lying on his side with his eyes open and his tongue hanging limp, a large pool of blood under his head. His throat had been cut. Tom bent down, crying, stunned, how could this have happened? Suddenly a chill ran through him, he stood and quickly turned. There he stood, stone-faced, cold, staring at Tom with fire in his eyes. Tom dropped the flashlight, feeling a sudden hot burning in his stomach. Still staring at this entity from hell, he grabbed and felt a sharp hard object sticking in his gut. He dropped to his knees, now bent over, unable to breathe. He rolled onto his side, trying to call out, but unable to make a sound. Zane stooped down and pulled the knife from his belly, then grabbed him by the hair, pulled his head back and drew the blade across his neck. Tom could feel the warmth of his life slip away. He quietly died next to Spots.

  Zane silently made his way toward the tent, on fire, wild. He pulled the flap open and gently moved inside. Louise slept soundly, while Ann dreamt of her birthday party next week, cake, balloons, and friends playing games, and Mike snuggled next to mom dreaming of the stars he loved so much.

  It was about 9a.m. when the park ranger pulled up. The camp looked still, too quiet. The tent was closed with no sign of movement. He knew the Hansens, had talked to them a number of times when they were camping. This however, seemed different, lifeless.

  As he approached the tent he began to get a queasy feeling, there was definitely something wrong. Where was the dog? He pulled back the tent flap, and there in a grotesque display of blood and carnage lay Louise Hansen. He stood frozen in disbelief, and horror. He tried to turn and walk but stumbled and fell to the ground. This was more than he could believe; crawling to his truck he pulled open the door and called for help.

  The police would find Ann down near the river next to her father and Spots, throat slit. Louise had been raped, beaten and brutally murdered. Mike was unaccounted for initially, but would turn up the next day in the little town of Dunning. He had escaped during the chaos, wandered in shock, until he staggered into the little town north of Broken Bow. Zane, as usual, had disappeared.

  Amy stopped reading. She felt sick to her stomach. Maybe she didn’t want to pursue this after all, she thought. She’d go home and think about it and talk to Jonathan that night. It was one thing to see this stuff in movies, knowing it wasn’t real, or to hear about it second hand, but they were heading into uncharted territory, at least for them. This was going to be the real thing, real people, real…victims.