by J. R. Adler
Her hair was a deep scarlet-red with a sleek cut that fell just below her chin. Her sharp features played in her favor as they matched her bulldozer attitude. She didn’t look like the other women that Kimberley had seen around town. Hell, she would have fit in walking around Greenwich Village. Megan was polished from head to toe, and like a crime scene, everything about her appearance had more to say than what was shown. She slid on a pair of white gloves as she approached Sam and Kimberley.
“Megan, so nice of you to join us.” Sam tipped his head. “This is Chief Deputy Kimberley King. She just joined us four days ago.”
Megan held up her hands, showing off her gloves as an excuse as to why they couldn’t shake hands. Instead, they nodded at one another.
“This is Megan Grey. She’s our designated pathologist from Oklahoma City when we get something that is beyond our own resources. She’s not from around here as you can see,” Sam explained.
“Well, you know how I feel about small towns. A bit too claustrophobic feeling for my taste.” Megan shook her head. “So, what do we have here?”
“We just arrived ourselves, but from what I know we’ve got a dead woman and her baby found alive a hundred yards away from the body.” Sam nodded.
“Let’s have a look,” Megan said, marching toward the crime scene, her hips swaying like a runway model as she walked toward the scene, a crime scene being her stage.
They ducked under the police tape, greeting a deputy in his late forties with a potbelly, Kimberley presumed was from the night shift, and Deputy Bearfield. They were standing guard near the body.
“I got the area sealed off right away.” Bearfield stood stoic. Some of his long, black hair had come loose from his ponytail, blowing in the dry Oklahoma wind.
“Good work, Bear.” Sam gave him a nod.
Kimberley circled around it and was horrified at what she saw. The woman’s head had been severed from the body, a pool of blood emanating out from the open hole, like a wine bottle that had been felled on its side, left unchecked to pour its contents out in an ever-expanding pool of deep-crimson liquid. The sight was grim. Surrounding the weeping graying flesh was the exposed cervical spine and open trachea, a dark cavernous tunnel leading deeper into the once warm depths beyond. Kimberley’s eyes searched the area around the corpse. No head in sight.
“Watch your step,” Megan warned.
Kimberley caught Sam roll his eyes. It seemed the working relationship between Sam and Megan was rocky at best. From what Kimberley could tell so far, Megan had a high level of attitude, but if her work was as impeccable as how she presented herself, it would be worth the price.
“Where’s the head?” Kimberley asked Deputy Bearfield, ignoring Megan’s warning.
“Haven’t located it yet. I’ve got men casing up and down the river in search of it.”
Kimberley nodded approvingly. For being a department that didn’t experience these types of severe crimes very often, they were handling it with a level of professionalism that surprised her.
Sam rubbed his chin with his hand and looked up at Kimberley. “You know what this all looks like, don’t you?”
“I do. I just hoped it wasn’t.”
Sam and Kimberley were already on the same wavelength, almost as if they had been working together for years, not days.
“You should probably wait until I’m done investigating the crime scene before you jump to any conclusions.” Megan lifted her chin.
“Why don’t you stick to your job and I’ll stick to mine,” Sam said tensely. “What’s the cause of death?”
“Well, without the head, all I can say as of now is decapitation. The body looks pretty clean otherwise.” Megan bent down beside the corpse, lifting the hand of the woman carefully. She inspected the nails. “No defensive wounds on the arms or hands. I’d assume she knew her assailant, or she didn’t see it coming, and her death was quick.”
Megan placed the hand back in the dirt and looked over the woman’s clothing. She was dressed in blue jeans and a short-sleeve cotton top. There was a bulge in the front pocket of her jeans. Megan carefully pulled the item from the pocket revealing an older iPhone, maybe a five. She clicked the button and a lock screen appeared.
“Bag and tag this,” Megan said.
A deputy extended an open evidence bag toward Megan, and she dropped it in.
“Can you make that a top priority, so we can get our hands on it?” Kimberley asked, thinking the evidence they needed could be one four-digit code away.
“Of course.” Megan nodded as she continued to inspect the body. One of her tennis shoes was off, just a foot away from the body.
Kimberley followed Megan’s eyes, down the victim’s body to the shoe and beyond. “She looks like she was dragged to this location. There are some drag marks in the dirt around three feet in length, and it seems to have been brushed away after that, like someone was trying to cover their tracks.”
Sam nodded.
“That’s exactly what I was going to say,” Megan said, looking up at Kimberley. “Where did you come from?”
“New York City. I was an NYPD homicide detective,” Kimberley replied.
Megan nodded and then her eyes widened slightly, a moment of recognition. “Wait, King. Kimberley, King… You’re the detective, the one that…” She paused and her eyes became sympathetic. “I saw the headlines a while back.”
Kimberley swallowed hard. She was surprised Megan would have not only heard of the case but remembered the mention of one of the lead detectives, but then again, it had become infamous, and all the major newspapers had covered it.
A slideshow of images played right in front of her eyes, like a private viewing for just Kimberley. The woman shackled to the mattress. The woman strung up by her neck in the attic. The woman in the bathtub. And the…
Kimberley blinked rapidly and swallowed hard before the slideshow continued. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“It’s a shame you guys never caught him.” Megan gave her a sympathetic glance.
A pang of guilt hit Kimberley like a punch to the gut. ‘I… I,’ she began.
Sam coughed, clearing his throat and the conversation. “If this is a copycat killer, we’re going to need to get a log of every person that passed through town recently. This place attracts a fair number of true-crime obsessives and murder tourists attracted by the Katie DeWitt James murder, so it might be a long list.”
Kimberley was grateful Sam had changed the subject. It was obvious Sam knew about her past and had given her the job anyway. A Google search of her name pulled up every news article related to the unsolved case. It wasn’t a case she liked to talk about, but it was one that lived inside of her like a parasite that burrowed its way in, refusing to leave or let go.
“Fair number? How many murder tourists do you all get around here?” Kimberley asked, looking over at Sam.
He rubbed his chin. “Probably a couple dozen a month, but I don’t know for sure.”
Kimberley nodded. “And where do these tourists stay?”
“Motels, Airbnbs, and campsites, I presume. Many probably pass through the same day. Not a whole hell of a lot to do in Custer County.”
Megan redirected her attention to the vacuous, engorged hole where the woman’s head used to be. She leaned in a little closer, examining the flesh. “This is a clean cut,” she said.
“And what’s that mean?” Sam folded his arms across his chest.
Megan looked up at him. “It means her head was severed from the body with one blow. So, the weapon was large and sharp.”
“Like an ax or a machete?” Kimberley thought out loud.
“Definite possibilities.” Megan nodded.
“Well, shit. Everyone around here has both of those.” Sam scratched the back of his head.
“Whoever did this has considerable strength to be able to hack straight through the spinal cord. There’re no tears on the skin.” Megan pointed to the edges of the neck. “If they had been stopped
by the spinal cord or done multiple blows, I would expect to see tears around the neck lining, where the tendons and sinew would have pulled and given way. But this is very clean, almost like a guillotine.”
“So, we’re looking for a large man,” Sam said.
“Or a woman. Nothing in this crime scene says it was a man,” Megan said steadily.
“Sure, fine. Or a really strong woman,” he obliged.
“Anything else you can tell us?” Kimberley asked.
“Not without the head or performing an autopsy. At first look, this doesn’t appear to have been sexually motivated as her clothes aren’t in any disarray, but I’ll perform a rape kit to be sure.” Megan stood up and removed her gloves. “I’ll have my team do a clean sweep of the area as well and bag up all evidence.”
Before Sam or Chief Deputy King could ask any more questions, Deputy Burns standing a little way down the creek yelled out. “Found the head!”
Megan raised an eyebrow, while Sam and Kimberley exchanged a glance. Immediately, the three exited the crime scene and trudged through the long wheatgrass in the direction of the deputy.
Burns stood over the object, pointing down at the head lying in the tall grass as Megan, Sam, and Kimberley approached. He was visibly upset, the color drained from his face and his hand shaking as he pointed. Kimberley gently pushed his arm down to his side, giving him a slight nod. Megan slid her white gloves back on her hands. The face was covered by the woman’s long dark hair, matted to her skin by dried black blood. Tiny pieces of flesh were missing at the base of the neck, and there were a few small bite marks and scratches along the cheeks and chin. The flesh was turning pale gray as there was no blood to fill it or warm it to its regular color.
“Good work,” Sam said to Burns.
Burns stood frozen, staring at the head.
“I thought you said this was a clean cut. The bottom of the neck is all mangled with chunks missing.” Kimberley pointed out the battered skin.
“Looks like an animal got to it first. It must have dragged it away from the body and left it here when it realized there’s not much meat on a head,” Megan explained.
“You think?” Sam questioned.
“I know. Definitely a fox or a coyote.” Megan bent down and pointed at the skin. “See those bite marks. Too deep and elongated to be a human.”
Sam and Kimberley nodded, accepting her explanation.
Megan gently pushed the long dark hair aside, uncovering the woman’s face. The vibrancy of her green eyes had faded, leaving behind a muted dullness, two emeralds submerged just below the surface in a pool of milk. In the center of her forehead, there was a small hole and a trickle of blood seeped from it, running down the side of her face into her hairline.
“There’s your cause of death. Gunshot to the head,” Megan said.
“How do you know the gunshot happened before the head was removed?” Sam rocked back on his heels.
Megan pointed to the dried blood. “Because of the blood trickling out of the wound, and it’s darker than the blood at the main crime scene, meaning it’s older.”
Sam gave a slight nod.
As Kimberley’s eyes scanned the face of the dead woman, recognition jarred her to the core like a hefty punch to the gut. Kimberley gasped and a look of horror washed over her. “Oh my God. I know this woman.”
12
Kimberley took a few small steps back. Her heart began to race, and her eyes glistened, but she forced herself to take a couple of large breaths before she completely lost it. She had known this woman. She had spoken to this woman. She knew her story. She could have been there for her. Maybe she could have stopped what happened to her.
Sam closed the distance between himself and Kimberley. Megan continued examining the head, taking swabs of it with a Q-tip and bagging them.
“What do you mean you know her? How? You just moved here. Who is she?” he asked.
“Her name’s Hannah. I’ve met her a couple of times at my daughter’s daycare. The child in the stroller must be her fourteen-month-old daughter, Isobel,” Kimberley explained, laying out the facts as if this were just another case… but she knew it wasn’t, at least not to her. Could she have helped this woman? When she met her, had Hannah known she was in danger? Was that why she needed a friend? Kimberley’s thoughts raced, trying to piece together parts of a story for a woman who would never be able to tell it.
“Okay. Do you know anything else about her?” Sam scratched at his chin.
“She works part time at the local pharmacy. Isobel’s father isn’t in the picture, but I’m not sure who he is or where he is. I just know Hannah was a single mom.”
Kimberley rubbed her forehead as if she were trying to conjure up more details that she knew about this woman.
“The couple of times I’ve spoken to her, she seemed frazzled, tired, lonely,” Kimberley said.
Sam nodded.
“But that’s characteristic to most single moms,” Kimberley thought out loud. “But she seemed nice, and she was good with her daughter. It’s hard to believe she got wrapped up in a situation like this.”
A couple of deputies walked toward the decapitation resting site, joining Burns who had found the severed head. They spoke quietly.
“This isn’t a hen house. This is a crime scene,” Kimberley snapped. “Cordon off the area.”
They froze, glancing back and forth between Sam and Kimberley.
“You heard her. Get this area sealed off!” Sam commanded.
Their faces reddened and they immediately shuffled to get to work, bumping into one another at first. Finally, one of them grabbed some wooden stakes from a nearby pile that were brought to seal off where the body was. Another grabbed a hammer and pounded them into the ground while Burns unrolled the police line and wrapped it around the stakes, creating a barrier separating the surrounding area from Hannah’s head.
“Thanks,” Kimberley said to Sam.
She appreciated that he had backed her in front of the deputies. She knew it’d take time to garner their respect, but she didn’t have time now—not with a murderer on the loose.
“Of course.” He nodded at her.
Megan stood up and dusted off her pants. She handed a few bags to one of her workers, telling him to tag them and load them up.
“What’s the plan?” Sam asked.
“My team will do a final sweep of the area. Clear the scene, and I’ll examine the body down at the Custer County Medical Examiner’s Office. Should have toxicology, DNA, and forensic exam results in forty-eight hours.” Megan removed her white gloves.
“Sounds good.”
“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said as she crossed over the newly erected police line.
“I trust you’ll be thorough, as per usual,” Sam said with a nod.
Megan walked off, leaving Sam and Kimberley standing near the severed head of Hannah.
“I’m going to make a call,” Kimberley said, pulling out her phone.
“To?”
“Social services. They’ve got to come get Isobel, and I’ll see if they can identify next of kin.”
“Good thinking.”
Kimberley walked out of earshot of the other deputies on the scene. She pulled her phone out, but her hand began to shake as she went to look up the number for social services. She had seen lots of murder scenes in New York; this was nothing new to her. But something about this one had her jarred. Maybe it was the proximity to Jessica. A woman who dropped her child off at the same daycare, a child who was supposed to meet her Jessica and all be one sweet and happy group together. Or maybe it was the feeling of guilt lodged deep inside her. If she had just grabbed a drink with this woman the night before, made a better effort.
“Get out of your own fucking head, Kimberley,” she whispered to herself. You can’t dwell on what you can’t control, she thought. If she wanted to help this woman now, the first thing Hannah would have wanted was her daughter taken care of.
Kimberley brought her phone back up and dialed. Ten minutes later, she hung up the phone satisfied with her call. Instead of walking back to join Sam and Megan, her feet and her heart pulled her toward the stroller where a young deputy stood at attention beside it, as if he were guarding a bank vault instead of a baby. Kimberley gave him a slight nod.
“How is she?”
“She’s unharmed,” he said matter-of-factly. It was clear he had no experience with children.
Kimberley leaned down. Isobel’s big green eyes stared up at the vast blue sky in wonderment. Her mouth was slightly open with a couple of small pearly white teeth peeking out just above her bottom lip. Her cheeks were bright red.
“Hi, Isobel. How are you, sweet girl?” Kimberley smiled, but moisture filled the corners of her eyes, cracking the façade she was trying to put on for Isobel. That everything was okay.
Isobel smiled and gurgled, kicking her legs and reaching out her arms.
Kimberley wanted so badly to pick her up and hold her, but she knew she couldn’t as there might be evidence on her. They needed to reduce the number of people that would handle her.
“It’s all going to be okay, sweet girl, I promise,” she whispered.
Kimberley stood up straight and gave her another smile before heading back over to Sam.
“Social services are on their way here to pick up Isobel,” Kimberley called out to Sam, who was chatting with Megan.
Kimberley joined them.
“Area is swept. We’ll finish loading everything up. Preliminary reports will be ready this afternoon,” Megan said. She walked back toward the road where her vehicle was parked, striding briskly like a woman on a mission.
Kimberley looked out. Scanning the horizon, she saw a mixture of dissimilar images. At some angles, her view revealed peace and tranquility. A steady, flowing creek under an unmoving bridge, swaying fields of wheat that would bend to the wind but not break, and a still sky that allowed for the human eye to see for miles and miles. She could also see squad cars aplenty, swirling lights, a darting and converging of tan and blue polyester, yellow police tape. The scene was both chaotic and serene. A weird blending of two worlds, like the convergence of a warm and cold front in the atmosphere, an impending storm not a possibility but an inevitability.
