“I’ll be careful,” he promised. “And I’ll try to call later.”
Chapter 23:
High Dump
World’s End State Park
Sullivan County, Pennsylvania
Roughly three and a half hours after leaving Mel’s place, Sam stood under one of several thousand trees in World’s End State Park staring up at a body. This one was male, and he didn’t look light. Sam wondered if that meant the killer had the upper body strength of a bear or if he was smart enough to haul some sort of winch about with him.
“Didn’t think I’d get so lucky,” muttered Ranger Douglas Palmer. He kept his eyes trained on the body hanging twenty feet above them from the lowest branch of a red maple tree. “You want me to get him down now?”
“How are you going to do that?” Sam asked.
“Got some gear in my truck that will help me climb the tree,” explained the ranger. “When I get up there, guess I’ll just cut him loose.”
“You can’t do that,” said Sam, not having much of a better plan in mind. Besides sounding disrespectful to the dead guy, his boss would not be happy about letting a body freefall to the ground. Dr. Stratham and the Sullivan County medical examiner would yell too. “Do you have a ladder that will reach that high?”
“Nope.”
“How about a really long rope?”
“What for?” asked the ranger.
“He got up there somehow,” said Sam. “We need to get him down in a similar way. I need to try and preserve the evidence.”
Ranger Palmer grunted and trudged away, presumably headed to the parking lot for the rope Sam requested. While he waited, Sam focused his attention on the ground. Jenn would scold for not doing that sooner. Taking out his work phone, Sam snapped several pictures of the tree and the surrounding ground.
Although no expert on reading the ground, Sam could tell someone had hauled a hand truck through the area. The warm weather and some rain this week had softened the ground, leaving muddy gashes where the wheels had gouged the earth. Several shoeprints could be seen, but none of them looked useful. Mud must have caked the bottom of the shoes—or boots. About the only thing Sam could guess was that they belonged to a man due to the size.
Why did the killer move the body this far in?
The distance to the parking lot probably amounted to only a few hundred feet, but most of the other body dumps in state parks had been much closer to the parking areas. This park had thicker forests than some of the others. The killer had spent a lot of effort to make sure the casual observer wouldn’t discover the body. One needed to have started the Double Run Nature Trail, and even then, they would need to look left and up at just the right moment. Hearing the ranger’s return footsteps, Sam decided to pose the question to him.
“How did you find the body?”
“Anonymous tip,” answered Ranger Palmer.
“What did it say?” Sam pressed. He was pleased to see the ranger returning with a large coil of rope draped over his shoulder like a bandolier.
“Gave the coordinates and told us to take a look,” replied the ranger. He wore a climbing harness and carried a serious-looking grappling hook. “I was on patrol, so I accepted the task.” He stopped at the bottom of the tree and pulled on climbing gloves. “We find all kinds of stuff from tips like that, but mostly, it’s guilty tourists telling us where their trash can be found.”
“Can I help?” Sam asked.
“Not right now, but I’ll need you later,” said the ranger. He looped the end of the skinny rope through the hole on the end of the grappling hook and tied it off.
Sam stepped back as the ranger swung the rope around in tight circles. It took him three tries, but finally, the grappling hook looped a few times around the branch and held fast to the rope. The ranger climbed the tree and scooted out to where the body hung.
“I’m going to tie him to the new line then cut the old one,” said Ranger Palmer. “When he gets close enough, I need you to grab his legs and lay him out flat.”
In fits and spurts, the body descended from on high. As instructed, Sam reached up and grabbed the stiff legs, easing the body down as gently as possible. His stomach started roiling as he looked into the unnaturally glassy eyes. He had to curl his gloved hands into fists to avoid tampering with the body by closing its eyes. Trying not to look, Sam snapped a few pictures in case he had to answer questions later about the body’s condition. The ranger joined him a moment later.
“You need to do anything before I take it to the coroner’s office?” Ranger Palmer had thrown the grappling hook down once it was no longer needed. Stooping, he gathered it up and started coiling the rope again.
“Won’t the sheriff want to send an investigator?” Sam wondered.
“Doc Graham already has the autopsy set up for tomorrow. She extends a cordial invitation for you to attend, and I think one of the sheriff’s deputies will be there too.”
“Do you know the coroner?” Sam wondered, picking up on the familiarity and casual shift in the man’s word choice.
The ranger’s head dipped to confirm the connection.
“Doc Graham’s not the coroner. She’s a semi-retired ME from New York City. County’s got a case-by-case contract with her for doing autopsies.” The ranger finished coiling the rope, looped it over his shoulders again, and stood. “She’s also my mother-in-law.”
“Ah, that explains the move to Pennsylvania,” said Sam.
“Wendy—that’s my wife—is one of the coroner’s assistants. The coroner is my cousin, Joe Fisher. If you hadn’t guessed, the entire county’s sort of a sprawling small town. I drew body transport duty because I’m an authorized assistant too. Besides, most of the rest of the crew’s over in Luzerne helping the Ricketts Glen people.”
“I see. I’ll be over there later today,” Sam remarked. The talk of small towns prompted another question. “Do you recognize him?”
Up close, Sam could tell he’d been young and made dead fairly recently. Aside from the trauma caused by the ropes, the body hardly bore any marks. He supposed the kid could have suffocated from hanging by the neck, but the bruising there didn’t look bad enough. The neck seemed too well-attached to be broken.
“No. He’s not from around here,” said the ranger. Without belaboring the point, the ranger strode off. “I’ll go grab a tarp so we can move the body.”
Sam wanted to rip the gloves off his hands, but he kept them on longer to check the man’s pockets for identification. He found nothing, which meant that the killer had probably emptied the pockets first. Maybe Jenn and her magic people could conjure prints from the inside pockets. Sam could use a break like that.
He didn’t like this turn of events. As he drove here, Hatcher kept Sam updated on the team’s progress since cell service in the middle of state parks could be spotty. He’d sent T.J. Newhouse to Red Rock Mountain and Adana Okiro to a cabin with fifteen possible witnesses at nearby Ricketts Glen State Park. Sam was under orders to join Adana when he finished here, but Hatcher told him to check in first. Depending on how quickly he could get done, Adana might not be at the cabin. She would follow the victims to Bloomsburg Hospital, a forty-minute drive south of the park. Sam was eager to read their reports.
Something told him, this ambitious move on the killer’s part marked a turning point. Real answers were close at hand. He could almost taste them burning in the back of his throat. This latest murder spree was gutsy in the extreme. With fifteen possible witnesses, there had to be someone who remembered something useful about the killer.
How did he control them?
Before he could ponder the question, Ranger Palmer arrived with a blue tarp. As reverently as possible, Sam and Palmer transferred the body to the tarp. Sam felt weird about being a temporary pall bearer, but he carried his end of the body with as much dignity as he could muster.
We’ll find you answers, kid.
Looking at the young man’s face made Sam sad. He appeared to be a year or tw
o younger than Jenn. The shine had long since worn off the murder case. Now, Sam just wanted it over. The longer it dragged on, the higher the body count soared. The man had doubled the bodies in one night. That spoke of planned acceleration or the workings of an unraveling mind. Sam wasn’t sure which would be worse.
Chapter 24:
Changing Luck
Geisinger Bloomsburg Hospital
Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania
The dashboard clock read 8:08 as Sam Kerman pulled into the parking lot at Bloomsburg Hospital. A frustrated groan escaped him upon spotting the media vans camped outside the doors. Before exiting his car, he drank half the coffee he’d bought to see him through the night. It was part of the reason for his tardiness. The drive from Mel’s to the hanging body rolled him right through the lunch hours, and he’d needed to eat and call her before heading to the hospital. He couldn’t say much about the case, but hearing Mel’s voice had done him good.
A second coffee for Agent Okiro waited patiently in the other cup holder. She would have to settle for cold coffee later when he managed to smuggle it in. He couldn’t bring it in now because it would send entirely the wrong message to the public if the media people caught him strolling in late with coffee.
Deciding she might have some good ideas for getting him into the building unseen, Sam called Adana. She directed him around back to an employee entrance where a kindly nurse waited to let him in. The woman looked delighted to be part of the subterfuge. For a moment, Sam found her cheery attitude odd, but then, he figured one would have to wear good cheer like armor at a place like this. After quick introductions, the woman updated Sam as she led him through the brightly lit corridors.
“Agent Okiro is currently meeting with the victims’ families. She’s promised to hold a press conference after that, which is why most of the reporters have stuck around.”
Sam felt sorely out of the loop. The three-minute conversation with T.J. Newhouse had left him with more questions than answers. Two bodies had been found in a popup tent atop Red Rock Mountain. One was shot three times in roughly the same pattern as the killer’s second official victim. The other had been systematically blown apart with fireworks. Sam had considered the strangulation of the homeless woman heartless. He couldn’t quite define what he should call this latest brutal attack. Adana had been too busy to answer his call, so he was walking into this meeting blind.
“Will I get a chance to talk to Agent Okiro before the press conference?” Sam wondered.
“I don’t know, sir,” replied the nurse. She halted so suddenly Sam nearly stepped into her. A hand flew to her forehead. “Oh, dear me, I almost forgot!” Her hands frantically searched the pockets of her scrubs until she came up with a neatly folded piece of paper. “Here, she wanted you to have this.”
Sam thanked her and wasted no time opening the paper. It held a series of notes in Adana’s neat, spare script.
Quick Update:
- Unknown gas used on 23 victims, age range 17-23.
- Results: All lost consciousness. 4 died. 5 in intensive care. 3 missing, presumed dead.
- Missing 3 = key (Matthew Nelson, Jacob Tieber, Todd Clements); background checks and interviews ordered
- Ranger Scott Harvey knocked out at the scene – interview completed
- Interviews with surviving victims under way
- Parkside Killer? – unknown link, but likely same perp
Feeling slightly less lost, Sam tucked the note away and waved for the nurse to lead on. Wishing him luck, she left him outside a door marked Executive Conference Room C. Slipping inside took a second, and orienting himself took several more seconds.
Adana sat at the far end of the table with a notebook and a pen in front of her. Every seat around the table was occupied by upset people. Additional people huddled in tight groups around each chair, giving Sam an idea as to who belonged to which family. Expressions ranged from vacant to angry, but the raw wound in every eye was consistent throughout the crowd. Conversation had ceased when Sam entered, but then several people spoke at once. Adana stood and waved to capture most of the crowd’s attention.
“This is Special Agent Kerman,” Adana introduced. “He’s part of the task force that will investigate last night’s incident.”
“What are you doing here?” demanded a man. Murmurs of assent rose around him, so he raised his voice accordingly. “You should be out there finding out who killed my boy!”
“Jeff, please! We don’t know he’s dead,” said the woman seated in front of the belligerent man.
“I know this is hard for you, for everyone.” Adana paused to sweep a compassionate gaze over everyone in the room. Her voice had a gentle, irresistible quality to it. “But the more information you can give us, the sooner we can figure out why your loved ones were targeted. That in turn will tell us more about the person or persons responsible and lead to an arrest.”
“Shouldn’t bother arresting the—” began the man called Jeff.
“What’s being done to catch this guy?” interrupted a different man. This one stood next to Adana, looming over her seated form.
Adana and Sam exchanged a quick look. He quietly signaled for her to continue. They couldn’t legally tell the victims’ family much, but the interviews would go much smoother if they could gain some trust.
“Our first task is to conduct interviews with each victim and relevant family members,” Adana explained. “It would help if you all gave some thought as to a possible motive here. Also, we’ll need as much information as you can give about where and when you last spoke with your loved one.”
“Can we see them?” asked a woman.
The desperation in her voice told Sam she was likely mother to one of the kids in intensive care.
“That’s not my call, ma’am,” Adana said gently, “but we will coordinate with the hospital staff to get you information as soon as it’s available.”
“What should we do?” inquired the woman sitting in front of Jeff. She sounded lost. “Our son is still missing.”
“Agent Newhouse will be scheduling interviews,” Adana informed the people. “I suggest you sign up for a timeslot and then go to a waiting area or the cafeteria and try to rest for a while. Priority will be given to families with missing children so we can locate the individuals as soon as possible. Mrs. Tieber, you can begin. Speak with Agent Newhouse when we conclude here.”
Sam knew Adana was aware of the three additional bodies, but she obviously wanted to break that news in private, so he let her handle the parents as she wished. A wave of pity washed over him as he saw the sparks of hope fighting for life behind Mrs. Tieber’s eyes. Nobody he knew actually liked next-of-kin notifications, but cases like this could shake even the most stoic veterans. Telling anybody of a loved one’s passing would be hard, he supposed, but this was infinitely worse because the deaths were sudden, violent, and involved young adult children.
The press conference sounded much the same as the debriefing with the parents, and Sam fulfilled much the same role. He stood back and lent quiet support as Adana fielded questions. When subtly directed, he stepped forward and delivered a few sound bites assuring the public that the FBI would put their full effort behind bringing the killer to justice.
The two hours following the press conference were earmarked for family interviews. Sam and Adana handled the Tieber interview together. The kindly nurse who had met Sam at the door, Patricia Anderson, waited outside the door to take a cheek swab from both Mr. and Mrs. Tieber. Before she came in, Adana explained the necessity.
“I have bad news, and there’s no way to ease into it,” she began. “Three bodies were found at locations near the cabin where the attack took place last night.”
“Why weren’t we told this before?” Mr. Tieber asked.
“Because this needed to be a private conversation,” Adana said, unfazed by the man’s cold tone. “I’d like Nurse Anderson to take a cheek swab for DNA comparison.”
The small bit of
color in Mrs. Tieber’s cheeks drained away.
“What happened?” Her question was barely audible.
“We’re going to find that out, ma’am,” Sam promised the distraught woman.
“Just spit it out,” grumbled Mr. Tieber.
“The body we think is your son’s experienced some trauma,” Adana said, putting the grim situation as delicately as possible.
Mrs. Tieber looked beyond worried.
“This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening,” she mumbled, gripping her head hard. She slumped against her husband.
Sam sprang up and called in the nurse who recognized the signs of shock and had the men stretch Mrs. Tieber out on the examining table.
“She’ll need to rest a while,” the nurse reported, once the initial excitement died down. “Try again in a half-hour.”
Names and faces started to blur, but Sam took copious notes during the interviews so he could keep his facts straight. The other two families were informed of the three bodies found. Based on the descriptions he received from them, the boy shot on Red Rock Mountain was Matthew Nelson and the one he’d lowered from a tree this afternoon was Todd Clements. He gave them the information to contact the medical facilities holding the bodies.
By the time Sam made it back to his car, mental and emotional energy levels skimmed rock bottom. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he ripped off the tie and wrestled out of the suit jacket. As he moved to fling it onto the passenger seat, Sam felt something stiff in the right pocket. A moment later, he pulled out a lottery ticket and remembered Mel slipping it into his pocket as thanks for sacrificing Saturday to paint with her. He held the ticket tight in both hands and tried to imagine Mel holding that same ticket.
Still not ready to tackle the two-hour drive home yet, Sam turned on the overhead light, dug out a quarter, read the game rules, and started scratching off the ticket. He didn’t play scratch off lottery tickets much, but he knew the basic gist. Wild Card Winnings had two columns, one for the Dealer and one for the Player. If the player’s two-card hand beat the dealer’s two-card hand in any round, they won the prize associated with that round. If the player’s hand revealed a “wild” card, they won the prize automatically. If the player’s hand revealed two “wild” cards, they won all ten prizes. Top prize was ten million dollars. Sam idly wondered if he’d quit the FBI upon winning that much money.
Scratched Off Page 16
