“I saw the keypad by the door. Is that the only way to get in through the front?”
“Yeah, and I already checked the logs. I can run a system diagnostic on the keypad. No one’s been in or out the front door since Saturday afternoon. The only key card not scanned out belongs to Jason Howell. The room he’s in is registered to that name, too.” He told Sara, “I don’t know why he’d stay here. Heat’s off. Campus is shut down. Library closed at noon on Sunday. I thought this place was deserted.”
“It’s not your fault,” Sara told him, though Will had some issues about the man opening the exit door. She redeemed herself by asking, “Do you think you could get a list of all the students in this dorm? It might be good if Agent Trent had them.”
“That’s not a problem at all. I can print them up for you right now.”
Will asked, “Do you remember what you touched upstairs?”
“Nothing. The door was open a little. I got this feeling, like this really bad feeling. I pushed open the door with my foot and saw him and …” He looked down at the ground. “I wish I could take a pill to forget all this.”
Will said, “I’m sorry to push you, Mr. Harris, but do you remember if the lights were on or off?”
“All the switches are downstairs.” He pointed to a set of light switches by the stairs. They were high up, probably to discourage students from flicking them on and off at will. “I turned on the lights before I went up, but then I turned them all back off like I found them.”
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Harris.” Will nodded toward the stairs, indicating he was ready to go.
Sara stood up, but she didn’t leave. “Did you know Jason?”
“No, ma’am. I’d seen that girl at the diner—Allison. You know how Grandaddy is, had her running around every second she was on the clock. I’d smile at her but we never talked. Something like this happens, and you realize you need to be paying more attention to the people around you. I’d hate to think there was something I could’ve done to stop all this.”
Will could tell the man was genuinely distressed. He put his hand on Marty’s shoulder. “I’m sure you did everything you could do.”
They walked back to the stairs. Sara reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out two pairs of paper booties to cover their feet. Will slipped them on, watching her do the same. She pulled on a latex glove and reached up, flipping the light switch. Light came down the stairwell.
Will went first. The right way to do this would be to send in a team to clear the building, but Will knew that the killer was long gone. Bodies didn’t smell when they were fresh.
The building was old, but solid, with an institutional feel that wasn’t exactly welcoming. The stairs went straight up to the third floor, creating a wind chamber for cold air. Will looked down at the black rubber treads. They would need to be checked for traces of blood. He hoped Faith had managed to get in touch with Charlie Reed. Their killer was smart, and he knew how to cover his tracks. But he didn’t have the benefit of a giant lake to wash away his presence this time. If anyone could find trace evidence, it was Charlie.
The view at the top of the second-floor landing was familiar: a long hallway lined with closed doors, but for one. At the end of the hall was a cased opening, the inside obscured by shadows.
“Bathrooms,” Sara guessed.
Will turned around and found the security camera mounted high in the corner by the stairs. The lens pointed up toward the ceiling. Jason’s killer had probably pressed himself along the stair railing, stood on the bottom step leading to the third floor, and used something to push up the camera.
“You smell that?”
Will took a shallow breath. “He’s been here a while.”
Sara had come prepared. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a paper mask. “This should help.”
Will was torn between his need to be a gentleman and his need to not throw up. “Do you only have one?”
“I’ll be okay.”
She continued down the hall. Will slipped on the mask. The air got marginally more breathable. Jason Howell’s room was closer to the bathroom than the stairs. Their footsteps echoed around them, bouncing off the walls. The closer they got, the stronger the smell became. Will saw that the students all had bulletin boards on their doors. Papers were pinned on top of photographs and messages. The board on Jason’s door was empty.
Sara put the back of her hand to her nose. “God, that’s bad.”
She took a breath through her mouth before going into the room. Will stood in the doorway. He held his breath as the smell of death washed over him.
The kid was lying on his back, bloodshot eyes staring at the ceiling. His face was swollen, almost crimson. His nose was broken. Dried blood circled his nostrils and mouth. One hand dangled to the floor. The thumb was cut. The tip of the pinky finger hung by a few threads.
“Looks like a match.” Sara had found Jason’s student ID hanging from the closet door. She showed the picture to Will. Even with all the damage, there was no mistaking the resemblance.
Oddly, Jason was clothed in layers—a pair of sweatpants over pajama bottoms; several shirts, a terry cloth housecoat, and a zippered jacket. His body was swollen from the early signs of decomposition. Gases filled his stomach. The skin on his hands was turning green. His shoes were loosely tied but his feet were so swollen that the laces cut into his socks.
Knife wounds punctured his chest. The blood had dried in thick chunks around the material of his jacket. More blood was on the floor, smeared in a streak to the desk opposite the bed. The computer, the notebooks and papers scattered around, were all covered in blood and pieces of brain matter.
Sara put her hand to the boy’s wrist. The check for a pulse was routine, though hardly necessary. “I count eight stab wounds to the chest, three more to the neck. The bacteria from the gut is what’s causing the smell. His bowel was pierced. He’s filled with toxins.”
Will asked, “How long do you think he’s been dead?”
“Judging by the rigor mortis, at least twelve hours.”
“You think we’re looking at the same killer?”
“I think whoever killed Jason knew him. This is hatred.” She pressed her fingers to one of the wounds in Jason’s neck, stretching the skin back into place. “Look at this. There’s the same twist at the bottom that I saw on Allison.” She checked the other wounds on the neck. “All of them are the same. The killer plunged in the blade, then twisted it to make sure he hit the mark. You can see bruising from the hilt. I’d guess the same type of knife was used. I’ll have to get them both on the table, but it’s an educated guess that this is the work of the same killer.”
“Jason was a lot bigger than Allison. He wouldn’t be as easy to overpower.”
Gently, she slid her hand under the back of the head. “The skull is fractured.” When she pulled her hand back, it was sticky with blood.
“Window’s closed,” he pointed out. A sizable puddle covered the floor under the sash. Marty had been in the room after all.
Sara had noticed, too. “He did you a favor. The rain could’ve flooded the floor and washed away the trace.”
“Charlie’s not going to be happy.” Will realized he hadn’t told her that a team was coming. “He’s our forensics guy. He’ll probably want to keep the body here until he’s processed the scene.”
“I’ll let Brock know. Do you want me to do the autopsy?”
He thought he might be stepping on her toes. “If it’s not too much of an imposition.”
“I’ll do whatever you want.”
Will didn’t know what to say. He was used to the women in his life making things more difficult, not easier. “Thank you.”
She asked, “Do you think Jason was Allison’s boyfriend?”
“They’re close in age. They go to the same school. They both ended up dead by the same killer’s hand. I think it’s not a big leap.” Will asked, “Assuming you hate to hypothesize, what do you think happe
ned here?”
Sara changed into fresh gloves, telling him, “I assume Jason was at the computer when he was hit with something. Statistically, we can guess a baseball bat. I’ll know pretty quickly. There will be splinters in his scalp.” She pointed to spatter on the wall that Will hadn’t noticed before. Unlike the oak tree by the lake, the white walls of the dorm showed clear signs of the violence that was done. “Medium velocity. I don’t think the blow was meant to kill him. The killer wanted to stun him.” She pointed to the red streaks on the floor. “He was dragged over to the bed and stabbed, but it doesn’t make sense.”
“Why?”
She looked under the bed. “There should be a lot more blood than this.” She indicated a fleshy chunk on the desk. “Obviously, he bit off his tongue—”
Will gagged. “Sorry. Keep going.”
“Are you sure?”
His voice sounded unnaturally high even to him. “Yes. Please keep going.”
She gave him a careful look before continuing. “It’s not uncommon with blows to the back of the head for the victim to bite their tongue. Usually it doesn’t come clean off, but it explains the volume of blood on the keyboard. His mouth would’ve been engorged with blood.” She indicated the wall above the desk. “The spatter here is what you’d expect from the baseball bat making contact with the head, but over by the bed is a different story.”
“Why?”
“From the position of the wounds, I can tell that major arteries were hit in the chest and neck.” Sara explained, “Think about it this way—Jason’s on the bed. We assume he’s conscious because of the defensive wounds on his hand. He almost lost his finger. He must’ve grabbed the knife by the blade. His heart would’ve been pounding like crazy.” She patted her fist to her chest, mimicking the quick beat. “Spray, spray, spray. All over the wall.”
Will looked at the wall. She was right. Except for two splotchy-looking stains close to the body, the white paint was hardly marked at all.
Sara suggested, “Maybe the killer was wearing something like a clean suit. He could’ve put down plastic. He’d have to cover the room, tape the walls. This was really planned.”
“I think that’s a little complicated.” Will had yet to meet a killer who was that fastidious. “Most killers keep it simple. They’re opportunistic.”
“I wouldn’t call taking a couple of cinder blocks, a padlock, and a chain to the middle of the woods opportunistic.”
“I just think you’re making this too complicated. Couldn’t the killer cover Jason’s body with something and stab him underneath?”
Sara looked at the body. “The stab wounds are closely patterned. I don’t know. What are you talking about? Plastic?” She nodded to herself. “The killer could’ve covered him in plastic. Look at the floor. There’s a drip line here.”
Will saw the line. It was irregular, following the shape of the bed.
She said, “Plastic doesn’t absorb. The line wouldn’t be thin like that. It would come off in sheets.”
“Sheets.”
Sara leaned down and checked the bed. “Fitted sheet, top sheet.”
“Blanket?” Will asked. The kid had been freezing cold. It didn’t make sense that he’d go to bed without a blanket.
Sara opened the closet door. “Nothing.” She started on the drawers. “I think you’re right. It must have been something absorbent that—”
Will walked down the hallway to the bathroom. The lights were off, but he found the switch by the door. The fluorescents flickered overhead. Green light bounced off the blue tiles. Will had never lived in a dorm, but he’d shared a communal bathroom with fifteen other boys until he was eighteen years old. They were all the same: sinks in the front, showers in the back, toilets on the side.
He found a wadded-up blanket in the first stall. Blood coated the blue cotton, making it stiff as cardboard.
Sara came up behind him.
He told her, “Simple.”
Will looked for the house with the swing set that marked the turn on Taylor Drive. Though the route was familiar, he was loath to take it. Searching Allison Spooner’s room was a necessary chore, but Will’s instincts told him that Jason Howell’s dorm room held more promising leads. Unfortunately, Will wasn’t a crime scene technician. He didn’t have the credentials or equipment to process such a complicated scene. He would have to wait for Charlie Reed and his team to drive over from the Central GBI lab. Two students were already dead and Will had no idea what was motivating the killer. Time was definitely not on his side.
Still, there were procedures to be followed. He had dropped by the station to pick up the warrant to search the Braham house. While he was there, he’d sent Faith the list Marty Harris had printed out of all the students in the dorm. She didn’t have time to do all the background checks, but she was going to get started on them now and send the rest of the list to Amanda’s secretary before she went to the hospital.
The police station had been oddly quiet. Will guessed they were all either on the street or at the hospital with Brad Stephens, who was still in a medically induced coma. Still, something was going on. The patrolmen milling around the desks hadn’t glared at Will with the expected hatred. Marla Simms had handed him the fax without having to be asked. Even Larry Knox had stared at the floor as he walked to the coffee machine to refill his cup.
There were two cars parked in front of the Braham house. One was a police cruiser. The other was a four-door Ford pickup. Will parked behind the truck. Exhaust drifted up from the tailpipe. He could see two figures in the cab. Lena Adams was in the passenger seat. A man was behind the wheel. His window was down, even though the rain hadn’t let up. He held a cigarette in his hand.
Will went to the driver’s side. His hair was plastered to his head. He was freezing. His socks were still soaking wet.
Lena made the introductions. “Gordon, this is the agent from Atlanta I told you about. Will Trent.”
Will shot her a glance that he hoped conveyed his intense level of irritation. Lena was being investigated for her part in Tommy’s death. She had no business talking to his father. “Mr. Braham, I’m so sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances.”
Gordon held the cigarette to his mouth. He was crying openly, tears streaming down his face. “Get in.”
Will climbed into the back seat. There were a couple of fast-food bags on the floor. Work orders with the Georgia Power logo were stacked in an open briefcase on the seat opposite. Even with the open window, smoke hung in the air like a shroud.
Gordon stared ahead at the road. Raindrops popped against the hood of the truck. “I can’t believe my boy would do any of this. It’s not in his nature to be hurtful.”
Will knew there was no use wasting time with kindness. “Can you tell me what you know about Allison?”
He took another hit off the cigarette. “Paid her rent on time. Kept the house clean. I gave her a discount for doing the laundry, looking after Tommy.”
“Did he need looking out for?”
Gordon glanced at Lena. “He knows, right?”
Will answered, “I know that he was slow, Mr. Braham. I also know that he held down several jobs and was well respected in town.”
The man looked down at his hands. His shoulders shook. “He did, sir. He worked real hard.”
“Tell me about Allison.”
Gordon’s composure came back slowly, but his shoulders were still slumped. When he moved the cigarette to his mouth, it looked as if his hands were weighted down. “Was she raped?”
“No, sir. There were no signs of that.”
He let out a ragged, relieved breath. “Tommy had a crush on her.”
“Did she feel the same way?”
He shook his head. “No. And he knew it. I taught him early on to be careful around girls. Look but don’t touch. He never had any trouble. Girls saw him like a puppy dog. They didn’t see that he was a man.” He repeated himself, “He was a man.”
Will gave him so
me time before asking, “Allison was living in the house?”
He lit a new cigarette off the old one. Will could feel the smoke clinging to his wet hair and clothes. He made an effort not to cough.
Gordon said, “She rented the garage at first. I didn’t want to let her. That’s no place for a girl to be living. She started talking about discrimination, said she had lived in worse, so I told her fine. I figured she’d move out in a month.”
“How long had she been renting from you?”
“Almost a year. She didn’t want to live in the dorm. Said all the girls there were boy crazy, staying up too late. She knew how to flirt to get what she wanted, though. Had Tommy wrapped around her little finger.”
Will didn’t address the tone of blame in the father’s voice. “She wasn’t living in the garage, though.”
He didn’t answer immediately. “That was Tommy. He said it wasn’t right for her to be out there when it was so cold, having to run back and forth to get to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He changed rooms with her. I didn’t know until after the fact.” He blew out a dark plume of smoke that wreathed around his head. “I told you, she had him wrapped around her finger. I should’ve put my foot down, paid more attention to what was going on.” He inhaled sharply, fighting his emotions. “I knew he had a crush on her, but he’d had crushes before. He liked the attention she was giving him. He didn’t have a lot of friends.”
Will knew he couldn’t tell the man details about an active case, especially one that could result in a nasty lawsuit. But he felt for the father, wished he could give him some words of comfort about his son. Instead, he asked, “Did you spend much time at home?”
“Not much. Mostly, I’m at my girlfriend’s house. Tommy didn’t know, but we were planning on getting married in the spring.” He exhaled sharply. “I was gonna ask him to be my best man once I got back from Florida.”
Will gave the man a few minutes to collect himself. “Did you know Allison’s boyfriend?”
“Jay. James.”
Will guessed, “Jason?”
“That’s right.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “He wasn’t around much. I didn’t let her have anybody sleep over. Wasn’t right for a girl that age to be fooling around.”
The Will Trent Series 7-Book Bundle Page 152
