By: Ann Rule
America's #1 true crime writer, Ann Rule has brought her expertise to twelve fascinating bestsellers. Now Rule continues her blockbuster Crime Files series with a riveting case drawn from her true crime
dossier: the explosive story of four talented and charismatic young men -- best friends whose bond was shattered when one among them was consumed by lethal greed and twisted desire.
They lived charmed lives among the evergreens of Washington state:
Kevin, the artist; Steve, the sculptor; Scott, the nature lover and
unabashed ladies' man; and Mark, the musician and poet. With their
stunning good looks, whip-sharp minds, athletic bodies -- and no lack
of women who adored them -- none of them seemed slated for disaster.
But few knew the reality behind the leafy screen that surrounded Seven
Cedars, Scott's woodland dream home -- a tree house equipped with every
luxury. From this idyllic enclave, some of these trusted friends would
become the quarry for a vigilant Seattle police detective and an FBI
special agent who unmasked clues to disturbing secrets that spawned
murder, suicide, million-dollar bank robberies, drug-dealing, and
tragic and funny, terrifying and romantic, as I heard of wasted talents,
crushed dreams, but also of the miracles that evolved and the love that
ignited among the ashes of disaster.
"The End of the Dream" will allow you into the lives of Steve, Scott,
Kevin, Mark, Mike, Shawn, Ellen, Sabrina, Marge, and dozens of other
people who could never have imagined how a long saga would end. In
addition, in this fifth volume you will find three more true cases from
my early days as a true crime writer.
These three are among the most memorable I have ever covered, "The
Peeping Tom, "
"The Girl Who Fell in Love with Her Killer, " and "The Least Likely
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a
ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, The road was a ribbon of
moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding
Riding riding .. . "I'll come to the by moonlight, though hell should bar
the way. Alfred Noyes, "The Highwayman"
THE END OF THE DREAM
He knew every square inch of his property, all twenty acres. Every tree.
Especially every secret hiding place. This wild place was, in fact, very
close to civilization where houses crowded against each other and malls
sprouted mushroomlike from good dirt that should have been left alone.
His land, and everything in it and on it, was as close to the perfect
home as he had ever imagined. Everything he wanted was here or could
easily be brought here, and he had the ultimate power to protect his
trees from the deadly chain saws of civilization. Eyes closed or stoned
or drunk, he could navigate every wooded path as if he had radar in his
brain, as if he were a bat sensing any obstacle in its flight.
Those who knew him and admired him believed he feared nothing. He had
spent his whole life demonstrating that he was not afraid, nothing human
could best him. But the thing in his path clearly was not human.
Its red eyes glowed like fiery coals when it reared up in front of him.
It was dark as pitch and so suffused with evil that it sucked the breath
from his lungs. He blinked, and it was still there. He blinked again and
it was gone. In Seattle, Washington, Thanksgiving is only rarely
celebrated under a brilliant blue sky and against a landscape rife with
Dana, born in Kansas City in 1947, was beautiful, loving and graceful,
and a wonderful dancer, compared to other girls taking dance lessons,
she was a lily among toadstools. Steven, the oldest son, was born on
February 19, 1950. Even as a child, he had a somewhat brooding when and
often looked angry when he wasn't, but he was brilliant. Kevin, who came
along in 1953, was cheerfully hyperactive, a natural athlete, and as
sensitive as a puppy. Randy, born in 1955, was musically talented and
perhaps the most pragmatic of them all. He set his mind on a goal and
went for it. Kevin was a handful. He was born long before l children
were recognized as being hyperactive and before anyone knew that reading
difficulties were often caused by dyslexia.
He could draw or paint anything, but he needed a year to read a book.
He had to be outside, and he often drove Joanna Meyers to distraction.
"Sometimes, she'd put me in my room for some reason, and I would bounce
off the walls and yell, Lemme out! Lemme out! I just couldn't stand
being caged up." All the Meyers boys were imaginative and bursting with
high spirits. When they watched "Sea Hunt, " they hooked vacuum cleaner
hoses to their backs and "swam" across the living room rug.
They used the couch for a bronco when they watched television westerns.
Joanna just sighed and shooed them outside. Like his siblings, Kevin
Meyers was raised in Overland Park, an upscale suburb of Kansas City,
Kansas, before his parents divorced. But Kevin almost didn't live to
When he was three, he was hit by a car and barely survived. It was to be
only the first of many brushes Kevin would have with death. Perhaps
because of this, he was an unusually spiritual child. He recalled
"astrally projecting" his mind when he was well under twelve. He thought
everyone could do that. Joanna Meyers had been largely raised by a woman
named Martha Ebertwho was not a blood relation, but who was a loving,
dear person. As a toddler, Joanna couldn't say "Martha" so she called
her foster mother, "Mamoo." Mamoo had always welcomed Joanna's children
into her home, too. The little boys \ liked to watch television with
Mamoo. Munching popcorn, they sat on the floor at her feet and watched
the screen avidly. "Mamoo loved Dragnet' and Perry Mason, " Kevin
remembered. "We liked those shows and she'd let us sit there and watch
with her. She loved Lawrence Welk too but we could never understand why.
Every time the bad guy got caught on Perry Mason' or Dragnet, Mamoo used
to tell us very seriously, Remember this, boys, Crime doesn't pay. We
believed her, too.
" After their parents' divorce, the Meyers' kids were rudely uprooted
from the life they had known in Overland Park. Dana, who seemed years
older than she really was, moved into her own apartment in Kansas City.
She taught dance while she made plans to go to New York City. Kevin and
Randy went to live with their maternal grandmother. She was married to
her second husband, a traveling contractor, whose jobs took him all over
Kansas. "We lived in this little trailer, " Kevin remembered, "And we'd