by J. R. Adler
“I never expected something like this to happen in my town,” Sam said, shaking his head.
Kimberley nodded.
“That poor girl.” He looked over at her.
“I can’t believe another person could do something like that, especially in front of a child. It takes a monster.” Kimberley twisted up her lips.
“A real cold-hearted son of a bitch.” Sam tightened his eyes and shook his head.
Kimberley let out a deep breath. She was sickened by the whole thing.
“I know Megan said not to jump to any conclusions—she always says that sort of thing—but my gut says we’ve got a copycat killer on our hands.” Sam furrowed his brow.
“Sure looks that way. There’s no denying the similarities between Hannah and Isobel, and Katie DeWitt James and her daughter,” Kimberley noted.
“It happened back in 1905. I’m thinking the person responsible for this must be one of them true-crime obsessives or someone real interested in the folklore of Dead Woman Crossing.” Sam rocked back on his heels.
“Someone must have found the opportunity to recreate the grisly events… but why? And why now?” Kimberley looked over at Sam.
“Sir, ma’am, social services have arrived,” Deputy Burns called out from behind where Sam and Kimberley were talking.
Kimberley turned back and looked at him. Giving him a nod and a tight smile, she thanked him. He was still pale, like he had never seen such horror before. Kimberley immediately felt sorry for him as she knew he was the newest deputy on the force. She remembered the first time she had seen a dead body. She was never the same after that. The image of the young boy can still be easily recalled to the front of her mind. Kimberley shook her head slightly, trying to erase the memory like on an Etch a Sketch.
“Why don’t you go back to the station and start working on Hannah’s phone records? You can get her number from the daycare. When Megan’s team is finished dusting her cell phone for fingerprints, I need you to pick it up and get into that device,” Kimberley said, giving him some reprieve from the crime scene.
He nodded and immediately turned away, practically running from the scene back up to his car.
“You’re a bit of a softie,” Sam said quietly.
“He’s too young for this. He looks fresh out of the academy,” she said.
“He is. Started the week before you arrived.”
Kimberley nodded. “I figured he’d be better off back at the station. He looked like he was going to faint or vomit, maybe both, and that’s the last thing we need at an active crime scene.”
Kimberley spotted the social-services worker. She was easily identifiable in a blazer, pinstripe black pants, and booties with a slight heel. Deputy Bearfield helped the woman walk down the valley on the side of the road, careful she didn’t trip, toward Isobel, who was still sitting quietly in her stroller while another deputy watched over her.
Sam and Kimberley met the woman by the stroller and introduced themselves.
“Nancy Singer,” she said as they shook hands. Nancy had black curly hair and a warm presence.
“Sheriff Sam Walker and this is Chief Deputy King,” Sam said shaking her hand.
Nancy pulled a notepad from her messenger bag that hung on her left shoulder. She opened it up and scanned it, then looked back at Sam and Kimberley. “I was told on the phone the mother was murdered. Mother’s name?”
Sam looked to Kimberley.
“Hannah. Her name is… was Hannah. I’m not sure what her last name is. Her daughter, Isobel, is fourteen months old, and she attends Happy Trails Daycare Center in Dead Woman Crossing. If you call there, they’ll be able to give you a last name, I’m sure.” Kimberley said it all in one breath. They were all just simple data points. That was all that Hannah would be now, a list of biographical facts. She’d have a name. A date of birth. A list of family members. A job she worked. Places she frequented. And a date of death. That was what angered Kimberley most about murder. It took a living, breathing person that had goals, dreams, quirks, flaws and boiled them down to a list of fucking facts.
The woman quickly scribbled down the pertinent information.
“They might be able to give you next of kin as well. The daycare center has parents put down emergency contacts and people authorized to pick up and drop off their child, so they should have something.”
Nancy nodded.
“I need you to find her next of kin,” Kimberley said, more of a command than a suggestion or a request. She needed to know Isobel would be safe and with someone that loved her, not in some foster home.
“We’ll do everything in our power to locate next of kin and place the child with them. You have my word, Chief Deputy King.” Nancy slid her pen and the pad of paper back into her messenger bag. “Thanks for your help. Isobel is in good hands.”
“Deputy Bearfield, please help Nancy get Isobel and the stroller safely up to her car,” Kimberley said.
He nodded and picked up Isobel, holding her against his chest with one arm. He picked up the stroller with his other hand. She immediately started screaming like she had become aware of everything. Like she knew her whole world had just changed, that her mother was dead, and she was all alone in it. He tried to calm her by bouncing her a little in his arm and making funny faces and talking in a soothing voice, but nothing was working. Kimberley grabbed an old worn-looking rabbit stuffed animal that had fallen from the stroller. She walked to Deputy Bearfield, sticking out the stuffed animal to the screaming child. It took her a moment to register, but as soon as she had it tucked under her arm, Isobel stopped crying.
“Good girl,” Kimberley said, rubbing the child’s arm. “You’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay,” Kimberley spoke softly.
“All good?” Bearfield asked, giving Kimberley a warm smile.
Kimberley nodded.
“I’ll need the police report for her case file,” Nancy said before turning away. “And I’ll take Isobel to the hospital to be examined. The report will be sent to the station to aid in your investigation.”
“Please let me know when you find her next of kin,” Kimberley added, a slight plea in her voice.
Nancy nodded before turning away. Bearfield followed Nancy up the hill with Isobel and her stroller in tow.
“Bear,” Sam called out.
He turned around.
“When you’re finished, I need you to conduct some initial interviews with her co-workers at the pharmacy.”
Bearfield nodded and turned back, following Nancy up the hill.
Kimberley’s eyes, glossy and strained, bounced from Nancy to Isobel to Hannah’s body to down the creek and back as if she were trying to solve the case, put all of the pieces together, right then and there.
Sam glanced down at the ground and kicked a lone stone. “We’re going to find whoever did this. We’ll head down to the medical examiner’s office later this afternoon and see what Megan has pulled together for the preliminary report.”
“I’m hoping they were sloppy. Left some fibers or fingerprints behind. But based on this scene, I don’t think we’re going to get that lucky,” Kimberley said.
Sam nodded. “Most likely not. You’re right. Too clean of a scene.”
“I’m going to start by pulling whatever I can on Hannah. Who she knew, who she talked to, who Isobel’s father was.”
“Thinking she knew her attacker?”
“They usually do,” Kimberley said.
“My gut is still saying we got ourselves a copycat killer, an outsider looking to stage some sick fantasy. But you may as well pull that information together so we have a full picture of what we’re dealing with here.” Sam scratched the back of his neck.
“You got it. The only thing that matters is what we can prove.” Kimberley nodded as she excused herself and headed back toward the vehicle.
13
Barb walked into Sheriff Walker’s office carrying a bottle of water and a piece of homemade apple pie. He wa
s seated at his desk with hundreds of photos spread out in front of him. He looked up and then quickly tried to turn the photos over.
“No need to spare my eyes. I watch all them CSI shows.”
He looked up at her and a look of despair flashed across his face.
“I’ve seen nothing like this, up close. Such a violent death with no regard for another human’s life.”
Barb shook her head. “I know. It’s awful what happened to that poor girl.” She set the apple pie and bottle of water down on the desk.
“I can’t believe someone could do something like this, especially in my town.” He ran the palms of his hands down his face and let out a breath of frustration.
“I haven’t a doubt in my mind you’ll find the bastard that did it,” Barb said, patting him on the shoulder.
“Thanks, Barb.”
“Let me know if you need anything, anything at all,” she said, leaving the office.
Sam took a gulp from the water bottle and returned his attention to the photos in front of him. There were close-ups. Pictures of the surrounding area. Every detail was captured.
Kimberley knocked once and walked in carrying a pen and a pad of paper.
“Whatcha got for me?” he said, looking up at her.
She took a seat in front of his desk. “Hannah’s last name is Brown. Never been married. Still trying to figure out who the father of Isobel is. Bearfield conducted an initial interview with her boss, Frank and her co-worker, Michelle. All they had to say was she went to work yesterday at the local pharmacy, she was late as usual, and neither of them noticed anything different. Bear swung over to the Happy Trails Daycare Center. He got the same thing there. Isobel’s daycare teacher didn’t notice anything unusual about Hannah when she picked up Isobel yesterday afternoon. Her mom, Lisa, lives in town. Nancy from social services just rang me to let me know that Isobel is with her, so I think we should head over there.”
Sam steepled his hands in front of his face.
“Good. I have Hill pulling together a list of outside-town visitors as well. He’s checking on motels and Airbnbs. I really have a hard time believing that a local could have done something like this.”
“And why’s that?” Kimberley asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Just a feeling,” he said curtly.
Kimberley averted her eyes back to her pad of paper so Sam wouldn’t see the look of skepticism slip across her face. She tapped her pen repeatedly on the page. She knew Sam would have a set of blinders on when it came to his locals. Small towns typically did. It’s hard to criticize the trees when you’re so protective of the forest. Kimberley was convinced that Hannah had to have known her attacker. With no defensive wounds and no sign of a struggle, either this killer was as stealthy as a ninja, taking her out without her ever seeing it, or she was comfortable enough to get close to them. With the exception of serial killers and terrorist attacks, murders were statistically personal. The only doubt that creeped into her mind were the similarities in the case between Katie DeWitt James and Hannah Brown. Well, more than similarities, an exact copycat.
“I was doing some research online, and I came across this.” Kimberley pulled out a piece of paper from the middle of her notepad, unfolding it and handing it to Sam.
It was a printed-out advertisement for a ghost tour Kimberley had found online.
It read:
Discover Oklahoma’s most terrifying ghost story! Come learn about the unsolved murder of Katie DeWitt James and how the town of Dead Woman Crossing got its name. Legend has it that Katie’s restless spirit still roams the area near Deer Creek, calling out for her baby daughter. Daily tours, $20 per person.
Sam rolled his eyes. “I’d heard about this. Old Man Kent Wills started this business nearly a decade ago.”
“It’s disgusting.” Kimberley shook her head.
“It’s how he makes his living apparently. He lives on the outskirts of Dead Woman Crossing. Mostly keeps to himself, aside from his little ghost tour business.”
“Well, he must keep a record of who goes on the tour,” Kimberley said connecting the dots.
“Ahh. Yes. Good thinking. I’ve never liked this type of thing, ya know?” Sam shook his head.
“You mean exploiting someone else’s pain and suffering for financial gain? Yeah, me neither.” Kimberley’s tone was sarcastic.
“Add him to the list of people to talk to.”
Kimberley nodded.
Sam’s desk phone rang, and he quickly picked it up.
“Sam… Yep. Sounds good. We’ll be right there,” he said into the phone and then just as quickly put it back on the receiver.
“Don’t tell me another body.”
“No, preliminary results are in. Let’s go.”
Kimberley breathed a sigh of relief and stood from her chair. She knew and Sam knew they had nothing to go on as of yet. They needed something. A fingerprint. DNA. Just anything.
Megan Grey met Chief Deputy King and Sam at the front of the medical examiner’s office, which was located in the same city as the sheriff’s station, Arapaho. The outside was a discreet pale-yellow brick building. Inside, it was nearly all white, the most sterile of environments. It was an unwelcoming building as it was one reserved for the dead. Megan held a clipboard and wore a long white doctor’s coat. She nodded at them, a tight smile on her face, before turning down the long corridor. Kimberley and Sam followed behind as she walked down the brightly lit hallway, her heels clicking along the tile.
They entered the medical examining room where Hannah’s body and head lay uncovered on the embalming table. Her clothes were gone, bagged up for the sexual assault evidence kit, Kimberley presumed. There was a long incision down the center of her body, exposing everything inside of her—cracked ribs, organs that no longer functioned. Kimberley found her unrecognizable compared to the friendly, yet lonely woman she had met just a few days ago.
“Please tell me you’ve got something good,” Sam said, taking a deep breath.
Megan walked over to the body—that’s what she would be called now, Kimberley thought. A body. Not a woman. Not a mother. Not a part-time pharmacy worker. Not Hannah. She was a body. She was rotting flesh, broken bones, useless organs, because she hadn’t declared herself an organ donor. Hannah Brown didn’t exist anymore… but a body did.
“I retrieved this.” Megan used a pair of tweezers to hold up a bullet. “It was lodged in her brain, two inches from the frontal bone. I can say with certain this was the cause of death.” She set the bullet back into the Petri dish.
“What caliber?” Kimberley asked.
“.38.”
“Same as Katie DeWitt James,” Sam said scratching his chin.
“Any fibers, fingerprints, DNA?” Kimberley looked to Megan.
“No fingerprints or foreign fibers. The cell phone we found on her only had one set of fingerprints, which matches Hannah’s. One of your deputies picked it up an hour ago. I also performed the sexual assault evidence kit. I’ll have the results tomorrow afternoon. However, since her body was spotless and free from any bruising, scratches, fingerprints, I’m thinking it’ll come back clean.” Megan furrowed her brow.
“To leave no evidence behind, this had to have been planned meticulously. It wasn’t an impulsive murder,” Kimberley said.
Sam nodded. “Have an idea of time of death?”
“The time of death was sometime between two and four a.m. on September eighth,” Megan said confidently.
“How about Isobel?” Kimberley asked.
“No marks on her. Not even a hair out of place. The hospital where Nancy brought her took some swabs after her wellness examination and sent them over. We analyzed them to see if we could find any DNA, like, perhaps, the killer held her. Preliminary is showing several different strands of DNA though.”
“What’s that mean?” Sam asked.
Before Megan could speak, Kimberley cut in, “She went to daycare yesterday, so she’d have lots of DNA on her. So
unds like a dead end.”
“Exactly. I can do further testing, but, like Chief Deputy King said, it’s a lost cause.”
Sam sighed heavily and nodded.
“Anything else you can tell us?” Kimberley asked.
“Not right now. But when the results come in, I’ll keep you both posted.” Megan thumbed through the papers on her clipboard.
“Thank you, Megan. We’ll see ourselves out,” Sam said with a tilt of his head and walked out of the room.
Kimberley paused for a moment and looked over at Megan. “What’s your take on this case?”
She looked up from her clipboard, raising her eyebrows. “In my professional opinion, I think you hit it right on the head. Hannah Brown knew her attacker.”
Kimberley nodded. “You know… your work is impeccable, Megan.”
“You don’t have to say that. I’m sure you’re used to a higher standard coming from the NYPD.” Megan tilted her head, looking back at her clipboard.
“By all standards, I mean.” Kimberley gave a small smile.
Megan glanced up at Kimberley. “I usually hate being called out to the boonies for these one-off cases, but with you around, I’m looking forward to it. Seems like I can learn a lot from you.”
“Likewise.” Kimberley nodded.
Megan returned a small smile, before diving back into her work, while Kimberley left the room, catching up with Sam.
“Jack shit to go off of besides the caliber of the bullet and a time of death,” Kimberley was thinking out loud as they were driving to Hannah’s mother’s house. “The time of death tells us something though, she definitely knew the person.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Why the hell would she be under that creepy bridge between two and four in the morning on her own? Plus, why would you bring your daughter with you? In a stroller, no less. Makes me think she was drugged or tied up somewhere else and then brought there. The killer probably even brought the stroller from her house. Maybe that’s the place to start, search for signs of a struggle or anything out of place.” Kimberley was on a roll in her mind. “And you heard Megan. That crime scene was clean as a whistle.”
