Getting the victim to do most of the work is satisfying and safest. Prostitutes and service workers are the most vulnerable to these simple plans. Essentially, you go to an empty house and hire the service worker to come do whatever they do. This even works for taxis and cars-for-hire. The house you choose to meet them at and the credit card you use should not be your own. These are rookie mistakes. I don’t have to have tried this yet to see the wisdom in the plan.
This woman came from an establishment called Anything Goes, so my request to meet in a dark alley didn’t faze her. She took one look at the wad of cash I’d brought along and hopped right into the back of the van. Always have a truck or a van if one wishes to do this kind of work. Cars just don’t cut it for having the necessary space. I didn’t think the woman would try to escape, but I’ve also taken simple precautions such as setting the child safety locks and installing a plastic shield between the back and the front of the van.
People say you have to depersonalize the victims to do the job. I’ve never found that as a must. Sometimes I need to know, sometimes I don’t.
One last note: if you’re going to snatch somebody from a public place, wear a few prosthetics. Witness memories are usually terrible anyway, but cameras don’t lie unless I tell them to. Prosthetics are easier than manipulating electronics. I’m all for a high-tech plan, but when there’s a low-tech solution to a problem, I go with it.
Chapter 7:
Winter Cash Windfall
Ridley Creek State Park
Delaware County, Pennsylvania
The woman had stopped screaming when her voice gave out. That had happened about an hour earlier. Andrew Novak had needed time to record his thoughts, complete the preparations, and perform the rituals. From time to time, the woman would moan into the gag, but the cold and exhaustion systematically sapped her strength.
He savored the last ritual.
The lottery ticket Andrew had brought with him was a new one. He’d bought a roll of the $2.00 tickets at a convenience store on the way to meet his date tonight. Since the very first ticket in a roll didn’t often win, he’d chosen one at random. He wanted to give the woman a fair shot.
Plucking a quarter from the center cup holder in his Chevy cargo van, Andrew slowly rubbed it across the ticket’s smooth surface. He traced each edge once just to get a feel for the ticket before actually moving to the winning symbols area. The goal of this game was to match the winning symbols to the play area symbols. One could also win instantly if they revealed a snowflake symbol. His winning symbols were a winter hat and a sleigh. Slowly, he scratched off the rest of the card’s top row, revealing a wreath, a snowman, a pine tree, a candy cane, and a star.
Not looking good for her.
He started on the bottom row.
The quarter moved the opaque gray substance aside bit by bit, revealing a stocking, an ornament, a gingerbread man, a present, and finally, a snowflake. Excitement charged through him as he scratched off the area just below the winning symbol. It said: $10.00.
Lucky lady.
He was a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get to use the hunting bow, but the ticket’s win meant he ought to ease the woman to the hereafter as quickly as possible. Andrew leaned over and picked up the case he had stuffed on the passenger side floor space. Opening the snaps, he retrieved the handgun and inserted the magazine. Guns were less fun, but they got the job done.
Exiting his warm, toasty van, Andrew slowly approached the woman handcuffed to the tree. Remembering to put on his gloves, he stuffed the gun in his pocket temporarily and took out a new pair of baby blue gloves.
The van’s headlights bathed the scene in a harsh glare. The cool night air smelled of clean pine. The woman leaned back against the tree, rhythmically tapping her head against the trunk. She started whimpering as he approached.
“I’ve got good news for you,” he said.
She made a frustrated noise, which was muffled by the gag.
“You won,” he informed her. Andrew drew the winning ticket from his pocket and showed it to the woman.
She blinked at it in confusion before searching Andrew’s face for an explanation.
“You get to die quickly,” he said, tucking the ticket away.
This news brought forth a surge of strength in the woman. She strained against the handcuffs and screamed into the gag until her voice failed. Tears flowed freely down her face until they disappeared into the bandana he’d pressed into service as a gag.
The woman sagged against the tree trunk and clenched her eyes shut. Her hair, makeup, and clothes had clearly seen better days. The pale skin of her legs shone through long rips in her pantyhose. Loose strands of bleached-blond hair whipped free of the updo she’d confined them to much earlier in the evening. Tears had conquered her mascara, ringing her eyes with black and leaving distinct trails down her face.
Andrew wanted to reach out and rub the tear marks away, but he dared not touch her, even with gloved hands.
“Do you have any last words?” He surprised himself with the question. Lurch had confessed to a lot in his final hours. Andrew had no intention of giving the woman that long for her confession, but since her role here was that of decoy, he felt he owed her a small token in thanks.
Nodding eagerly, the woman stood a little taller. Her expression still spoke mainly of weariness, but her eyes flickered from fear to anger and back again several times.
“Since you won, I’m willing to do this quickly, but if you scream, I’ll put the gag back on and take my time.” Andrew kept his tone even. One didn’t need to speak loudly to be heard in the still night air, even with the gentle rumbling from his van’s engine. He waited until she nodded before slowly reaching for the gag. Finding that his fingers couldn’t deal with the knot while the gloves were on, Andrew took out a pocket knife. “It’s just to remove the gag,” he explained as the woman flinched.
Trying not to scare her any more than he had to, Andrew slowly sliced the gag away. He could always stuff the whole bandana into her mouth if she gave him trouble, but he didn’t need to keep her completely silent now. He wondered what questions she would ask. Would she beg for her life or spend her last few seconds on Earth cursing him?
“Please don’t kill me,” the woman whispered. “I have a family.”
He cocked his head at her curiously.
“Why should that make a difference?”
The question pulled the woman up short, derailing her rehearsed speech. She paused to consider her answer before speaking.
“I don’t know,” she admitted at last.
“Everybody has a family,” Andrew pointed out.
“I don’t want to die,” murmured the woman.
“Few people do. Life’s very unfair on that score,” Andrew commented. “Your will to live is good. It will make your sacrifice greater.”
“Why are you doing this?” The question was a whisper.
Andrew nodded in satisfaction. He’d expected that question much sooner.
“I killed a man earlier this week, and I put his body—what was left of it anyway—in a public place. I need to keep the police busy. The more time they spend solving your murder, the less time they’ll have for his.”
Confusion crossed the woman’s features. Her dark eyes widened as she recognized the story.
“That was you?”
“That was me,” Andrew confirmed. “Cases like this are similar enough to get the police to talk to each other. As I said, I want them to link the cases, not concentrate on the first victim. I have a lot of work to do, and the more they chase their tails, the easier it will be to complete my work.”
“What work?” inquired the woman. “More killing?”
“People are evil,” said Andrew. He had the sudden urge to know this woman’s name.
The statement drew an incredulous snort from the woman.
“Says the man about to murder me.” Her voice started out weary but hardened as she moved into her next question
. “How do you justify this?” She shrugged her shoulders but was limited by the handcuffs.
“I told you. Your death is a distraction, a necessary sacrifice,” said Andrew. “I’m sorry things have to be this way, but I need to stay free long enough to punish the guilty.”
“For what?” demanded the woman. Anger had moved her far past the fear. “You say people are evil, but so is murder. How is doing wrong to right wrong any help?” Her words came out faster and louder each moment. With great effort, she lowered her voice and changed her tone back to pleading. “Please. If you let me go, I won’t tell anybody about you or your mission. I’ll even tell them whatever you want me to. Just let me live.”
“Sorry,” Andrew repeated. He gently pressed the bandana to her lips and worked it into her mouth. “People lie. I can’t trust you. I can’t trust anybody.” The last statement came out with a surprising amount of honest despair.
Fresh tears pooled in the woman’s eyes. She understood the end was coming.
Stepping back, Andrew reached into his pocket to pull out the gun. Finding the winning ticket as well as the weapon, he experienced a flash of inspiration. The moment needed to be preserved. Reaching into a different pocket, he retrieved one of his disposable cell phones and pressed buttons until he reached the camera function. He had to tuck the gun into his waistband because he didn’t have enough hands to maneuver the lottery ticket, the phone, and the gun.
The woman’s shirt and flimsy jacket didn’t offer much in the way of places to tuck the ticket where his camera would be able to capture a nice image. He supposed he could pin it to her with the knife, but he didn’t want to hurt her like that. The answer came to him then. Tucking the phone back into his pocket, Andrew took out his knife again and sliced two vertical strips into the woman’s jacket. He almost ended up cutting her anyway as her chest moved with her rapid breaths.
“Just relax. This won’t hurt,” he said softly.
The woman craned her neck back as far as it would go, trying to see what he was doing.
When the strips were long enough, Andrew tucked the lottery ticket into the space he’d created. He had to adjust it a few times and lengthen the left side to get the ticket to sit straight, but he managed to get it into a satisfactory position.
“Don’t move. It’s not very secure there,” said Andrew.
Backing up three paces, he took out his phone again and typed in the unlock code. The camera app opened, ready to do his bidding. He lined up a few different shots to preserve the scene as a whole and to get a close look at the ticket. It looked perfect on the woman. He wanted to let her keep the ticket, but at the same time, he wanted the souvenir for himself. It wasn’t a big win. He could afford to never turn it in.
A new impulse blindsided him. Before he could think too much, Andrew’s right hand found the handgun while his left put the phone away. Slowly, he raised the weapon and viewed the woman through the gunsights. Seeing he was far too close, Andrew backed up several paces. He kept going until he was only a few feet from his van’s front bumper. The headlights hit his body, casting a long shadow that nearly reached the woman.
When he peered through the gunsights, his gaze locked on the winning ticket. It had earned the woman this fate instead of the more painful one. His finger tightened on the trigger. He wanted to pull the trigger so badly his arms shook, but he didn’t want to leave the ticket. Torn between the two impulses, he hesitated for a long moment before moving. Finally, he jogged forward, plucked the ticket out of the temporary straps and held it in his left palm.
“I will remember you,” he said solemnly. He held the ticket to his heart before slipping it into a pocket.
The woman watched these proceedings with dazed eyes. The fear returned as Andrew locked eyes with her and stepped backwards.
When he was once again by the van’s bumper, he lined up the shot and fired three times.
He didn’t want her to suffer, and he didn’t have time to dither. There was more work to do.
Chapter 8:
Innocent
Ridley Creek State Park
Delaware County, Pennsylvania
Pulling into the parking lot, Samuel Kerman felt his insides tighten. How many times would he be called out to a state park to check on a body? Parks were supposed to be fun, relaxing places where people could get closer to nature and explore the world. The fact that some creep decided to make these public lands his personal dumping grounds annoyed Sam. In a few months people would return again to enjoy the park’s beauty, but Picnic Area #17 would never be the same again. Even if they could somehow keep the media people from finding out, the fact would remain that violence had consumed a human life here.
Stepping out of his Magnetic Gray Metallic Camry, Sam immediately spotted the focal point of the disturbance. A quick glance around the parking lot told him he’d beaten his sister and Dr. Mira Stratham to the scene. The accomplishment gave him a small sense of satisfaction, though he knew it wasn’t exactly a fair contest given the longer distance they needed to travel.
A group of uniformed officials gathered around a tall tree. From this distance, Sam couldn’t read the patches on their sleeves, but the variety of uniforms told him most of Delaware County law enforcement was well-represented. Double checking that he had both badge and gun, Sam made his way over to the crowd.
“Suit’s coming,” said one of the young officers near the back.
The comment opened the shell of people like a clam, revealing a woman kneeling before a body leaning against the tree. She must have sensed the change behind her, for she stood and turned, allowing Sam to catch sight of the badge. The woman placed both hands on her lower back and stretched, waiting for Sam to approach.
Slowing as he entered the semi-circle, Sam reached for his badge. Before he had it fully out, the woman spoke.
“You must be the FBI agent.”
“Yes, ma’am. Agent Samuel Kerman. I was assigned to the John Doe found up in the State Game Lands north of here. I came to see if this case might be connected.”
“I doubt it,” the woman commented. She looked down at her gloved hands. “Forgive me for not shaking your hand. This is my only set of gloves. I’m Sheriff Mary Radley. This is my county, but as you can see, we’re all just looking for answers for this woman.” The sheriff gestured around at the gathered law enforcement people who nodded solemn agreement. As she mentioned the woman, the sheriff sidestepped to give Sam a better look at the body.
The dead woman slumped against the tree with her arms stretched out behind her. Sam didn’t see the handcuffs until he moved closer and shifted left a few steps. Cause of death would have to be officially confirmed by the medical examiner, but it looked pretty clear to Sam. Death probably came from the three gunshot wounds, two high on the chest and a third in the center of the forehead.
When he finished with his initial assessment, quick introductions went around, but Sam wouldn’t bet his life on remembering any of their first names. Thankfully, they each wore a nameplate to help him keep their last names straight. Slowly, the small gathering broke up with officers walking away in ones and twos to handle tasks that must have been assigned before Sam showed up.
“What makes you think this isn’t related to the other park body?” Sam asked the sheriff, picking up an earlier conversation thread once they were alone.
Sheriff Radley shrugged.
“The news made a pretty big deal out of the staging in that scene. There’s none of that here. No plastic bags nailed to trees or carved messages anyway. I had my people get copies of the files from the Bradford County office as soon as it looked like there could be a connection. Upon first glance, it’s not impossible. It just doesn’t seem likely.”
“Would you mind if I had a forensic scientist who processed the other scene take a look at this one? She’s on her way now.” Asking was a formality. Sam’s presence meant an official invitation for the FBI’s help had already been extended, but he’d learned that phrasing th
ings as questions made a much better impression on the locals than statements and demands.
“I’m not about to turn away help,” said the sheriff. She looked at the body again and shook her head. “My ME’s office is sending staff, but I told them they might have to wait a bit. This is a much bigger party than we’re used to.” She frowned over his shoulder. “Excuse me. I have to go coordinate my people. The vultures have arrived. We’ll do our best to keep them back, but it’s a big park.” Handing him a card, she added, “Here’s my number in case you need anything or need me to know anything.”
Sam considered texting his sister to get their ETA, but knowing when they would arrive wouldn’t actually help him. A time check told him he probably had about a half-hour to wait, less if his sister was driving. He spent the time searching the scene. A dozen people had been back and forth across the space around the tree, but he wanted to get a feel for the area anyway. He hoped they remembered to take pictures when the scene was relatively undisturbed. The cold night had preserved the body well.
Standing slightly behind the tree with the body, Sam peered back at the parking lot. He tried to imagine what the woman thought in her last moments. The state of her wrists told him she’d likely spent some time trussed to the tree. Although the murder might have happened swiftly, the ordeal had not been short. Closer examination of the woman’s raw, bloody fingers supported the idea. His gaze immediately fell on the parking lot. There weren’t any burn marks on the body, so the killer likely took his time lining up the shot from a reasonable distance.
Curious, Sam counted the steps between the tree and the parking lot. The trees here were less than fifty feet from the parking lot. Maybe the angle from the gunshots and the bullets themselves could give Sam some clues about the guy. The killer could be a woman, but Sam doubted it. Women who killed were usually far more straightforward, especially when offing another female. The incidents usually revolved around men and involved physical blows and very few questions about the perpetrator’s identity. In contrast, this killer had watched his victim struggle against her bindings. He might have even watched her from his car, warm and comfortable while she suffered the frigid temperatures.
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