Nursery Rhyme Murders Collection_3-4-2017

by McCray, Carolyn

  “I get it. I’m complicated myself. Name’s Preston.”

  “Hey, Preston.”

  “So,” he continued. “Your team members are from D.C. or something like that, but what about you?”

  “Oh, I’m from Michigan,” Had answered.

  “No shit. I’m from Michigan, dude.”

  “You’re kidding. What part?”

  “Detroit.” Preston lifted his chin, almost like he was expecting a fight.

  That gave Had pause, but only for a second. Detroit was like a foreign country when it came to Michiganders. It’s almost like they didn’t count. But Had wasn’t about to hold that against his new friend. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to rib him about it, though.

  “Ooo. Detroit. Wait a sec. Aren’t your pants pulled up too high for you to be from Detroit?”

  Preston laughed. “Yeah, my boss won’t let me wear ‘em the way I like. Total hater.”

  Over the next few hours spent taking the lay of the land, it appeared that Had’d stumbled across help in the strangest of forms. They’d now bonded over a shared love of marble slab fudge and the gentlemanly sport of curling. That had to be some kind of miracle. No one this far south usually had any idea of what curling even was, unless they’d happened to catch it during the Olympics.

  Had was thrilled to find someone with whom he could discuss the Spirit of Curling, the pros and cons of keen ice and the hog-to-tee time for the Olympic arena in Vancouver back in 2010, although Preston seemed to have some strange ideas when it came to the Spirit part. Had tried not to hold it against him too terribly.

  But they were both in accord when it came to the Olympics. Much as the Canadians liked to lord their superiority over anyone from the States, they’d both been pretty stoked that the men had beaten the Norwegians, especially after the women suffered that close defeat to the Swedes.

  Now he had Preston on patrol, looking out for the suspects they were bringing in for questioning. Preston had actually recognized one of the most likely men on the list.

  “That dude was freaked out, man. Like constantly looking over his shoulder and shit. Guy’s probably tweaking.”

  “Keep an eye out for him. You can call me on my cell or shoot me an email. Oh, hey… add me on Facebook, okay?” There was wifi throughout the complex, and they should be able to chat with each other in pretty short order.

  “Will do,” Preston waved to him. “Oh, and come by tomorrow. Got a dude coming in from Michigan, gonna bring me some black walnut fudge.”

  Had waved back, already tasting the creamy confection. He’d be here tomorrow and would hang out the entire day if he had to in order to get a taste of that stuff.

  It was only a few hours into the investigation, and Had already had secured a lead and an informant, who was looking like he might turn out to be a good friend, as well. Oh, and the fudge, of course.

  This day could not be going any better.

  * * *

  Sariah hit the “end” button on her phone, finished with the latest call from the local chief of police. There was another body part, and it was right next-door in Cedar Rapids. If there had been any doubt in her mind, it was now fled and gone for good.

  They were in the right place.

  Cedar Rapids was about an hour northwest of Walcott, over on the I-80 and north up the I-380, both major thoroughfares for trucking routes that snaked through the area. Cedar Rapids was one of the destination routes of two of the truck driver suspects on which they had BOLOs.

  Had was working his magic on local law enforcement, so when they got word of the body parts, the chief of police in Walcott had gotten in touch with her before anyone even had a second to process the scene. He was friends with the guys up in Cedar Rapids, and had asked them not to do anything until the BAU team could get there. Sariah, Joshua and Had would be analyzing a near pristine crime scene. That happened so rarely that Sariah had never experienced it firsthand.

  The two men were waiting for her outside as she pushed her way past another group of truckers. There hadn’t been any way to avoid it, but trying to find their suspects while a huge trucking festival was going on, made their jobs both harder and easier at the same time. Most of the truckers in the area roundabout were either here or were going to get here in the next day or so, but there were so many people around, that finding the right ones was picking the proverbial needle, putting on a blindfold and throwing it into a field full of haystacks.

  But the pictures and profiles of the men they were tracking down had all been passed around to the local cops, who were busy making their way through everyone already here. They were also stopping every new arrival. Word had begun to spread amongst the community.

  In spite of that fact, Sariah had been propositioned in more ways and in more explicit detail than she’d ever experienced. And that included the week she spent in the Bahamas the year she hadn’t checked through the dates for Spring Break. She would have thought that horny college males were the pushiest when it came to asking for bizarre sexual acts. Turned out they had nothing on truckers. She was pretty sure that some of the things she’d been asked to do were physically impossible, as well as illegal.

  This group was no different. She counted a total of three wolf-whistles, two requests and one attempt at a fondle. The last she evaded with a practiced move that left the short, balding man wringing his hand out in pain.

  As she finally approached her two teammates, Had glared past her. “We need to set up an armed guard for you while we’re here.” He shook his head in disappointment. “I had no idea truckers were so… so…”

  “Desperate?” Joshua finished for him, untangling himself from Bella’s leash. The enthusiastic young dog had managed to almost trip her owner. Twice. “You really couldn’t figure that out on your own? They spend ten months of the year out on the road by themselves. What do you think they’re going to do the remaining two?”

  “Still…” Had continued, unconvinced.

  “Had,” the former agent growled. “I’ve brought in more serial killers than I can count. Want to know how many of them were truckers?”

  Sariah watched as Had threw his hands up in disgust. “Well, my idea of gentleman road warriors has now been officially tainted.” He harrumphed, then looked down at the phone in his hand as it buzzed with a text message. His face brightened. “I texted Darrel to come and get us. Looks like he’s on his way.” His expression shifted to something more resembling concern. “Don’t tell him about what happened with those trucker guys. It would kill him.”

  “He’s studying to be a trucker,” Joshua muttered under his breath. “He knows. In fact, it wouldn’t shock me if we ended up seeing him in the room at some point.”

  Had shook his head, clearly disappointed. It was hard for Sariah to tell who was getting the brunt of his displeasure, the truckers for letting him down, or Joshua for rubbing his nose in it.

  The thought of the skeevy truckers led to another thought that had been on her mind. “Hey, Had, have you been able to set anything up with the police precinct here as far as an interrogation room goes?”

  Had shook his head. “No, but I’ll get on it.”

  Joshua stepped in once more. “I was thinking that we should try to do that here, if there’s any way we can swing it.”

  “You want to interrogate them here?” Sariah looked around at the truck stop. “Don’t you think it’s a little…?”

  “Yes, I do,” he replied. “It’s perfect. Truckers are antisocial by nature. Dragging them down to the station is just going to make them clam up.”

  “Okay, okay,” she relented, then turned to Had. “See what you can set up.”

  “Will do, boss.” Had grinned at her, his good humor apparently restored. Never took long, as far as Sariah could see.

  The ride out to Cedar Rapids wasn’t as talkative as the last one Darrel had given them. The driver gave one look at Bella and just sighed. He seemed to have returned to his taciturn ways, and Had didn’t seem a
ll that anxious to draw him out. Probably because he didn’t know how to avoid the topic of sleazy truck drivers.

  When they got just outside the city, Had started back up again.

  “Did you know that Cedar Rapids is called the City of Five Seasons?” he asked the driver, who shrugged.

  “More like the City of Five Smells.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Darrel shrugged again. “You’ll see.”

  Three minutes later, Sariah knew exactly what he was talking about. They drifted into a miasma of scent that somehow managed to incorporate the smells of cereal, dog food and something unpleasantly chemical into one of the worst experiences imaginable.

  “Wow. That’s unpleasant,” she managed, trying not to choke.

  “Oh, it’s not that bad,” Had said, sniffing the air. Then he seemed to get a full nostril of the scent. “On second thought…”

  “How long do we have to stay here?” Joshua groaned, pulling his shirt up over his nose and mouth. The puppy down at his feet whined, pawing at her nose.

  “Oh, shut up,” Sariah snapped back at him. “A couple of days ago your odor was much worse than this.”

  “Yeah, but at least I couldn’t smell myself.”

  She had no good response to that bon mot.

  They made their way out to the Indian Creek Nature Center, where the crime scene was. According to the police chief in Cedar Rapids, there had been a couple of locals who had decided to take an afternoon’s walk through the grounds of the center, when they stumbled across a head sticking up out of the ground, attached to a neck and part of the shoulders, making it look like it was someone who had been buried standing straight up. It was directly underneath an old wooden bridge that spanned the ravine that held the creek. What the couple had been doing down off the path and underneath the bridge, no one had seemed to want to ask.

  Bella was running around in circles, dragging her leash behind her. Sariah was resigned to the idea that the dog was now a part of the team, but this new development was one she was not happy about.

  “Joshua, your dog needs to be on a leash here in the park. Can’t you read the signs?” she said, pointing at the notices posted everywhere around them.

  “Oh, I can read them just fine. And Bella is on a leash,” he said, pointing at her. “See?”

  “But the leash isn’t attached to you.”

  “She’s walking herself. Very independent, that Bella. All part of her service dog training.”

  Sariah sighed and gave it up. There was no way she was going to win this one, and maybe it was time to start picking her battles with the former agent.

  The nature center had been formed from the properties of a couple of old farms, one of which now served as the main office and information building. There were bulletin boards up, with flyers for classes for adults and children… everything from nature walks to macramé lessons.

  After the older woman with scraggly dark hair gave a disapproving look to Bella, she pointed them in the direction of the bridge. Sariah took a look around. It wasn’t bad, as far as nature centers went, and the smell of the city had either ceased to affect her as much, or it just wasn’t as strong now that they were out of the middle of the worst of the smells.

  They hiked down to the bottom of the ravine, pushing past brush and low-lying tree branches. Bella danced in between the trunks, snapping at bugs and peeing every three steps, circling back to nose at her master as if to let him know he was slow. In the next moment, Joshua took a spring-loaded twig to the face and reached in to snap it off in retribution.

  “You realize you’re fighting a tree, right?” she asked.

  “Whatever.” He looked around, peering up at the bridge. “You know, this site is a lot closer to what I’d expect from Humpty, but it still feels… off… somehow.”

  “Can you explain?”

  “Just that it doesn’t really seem to be his speed.” Joshua opened up his arms, gesturing out to the surrounding area. “Alright, this is more secluded, but…”

  Sariah could see he was working something out. Something that could prove to be important. She might not always trust his judgment, but she trusted his instincts, and they seemed to be screaming at him right now.

  “But what?” she prompted.

  “I don’t know, that’s just it!” he snapped back. “I mean, look at this city.”

  “I’d rather not,” she muttered. “But what about it?”

  “Well, Humpty would go to places that were out of the way, but it was always in cities that were at least sort of interesting. This place is a dump. The killer must have scampered away the first second he could.”

  “That doesn’t seem so—”

  “What about this?” he interrupted. “The pieces of the body aren’t buried any more…”

  “That could just be a lack of time, or him getting bolder,” Had interjected.

  “That’s the thing. He used to plan these things out with precision. And he didn’t change, hardly at all.” Joshua appeared to be groping for a better way to explain clearly what it was he was feeling.

  “Maybe he’s getting sloppy in his old age,” Had answered, unfazed by Joshua’s sharp tone. “He has to be at least in his early thirties, probably closer to 40 by now, don’t you think?”

  “Don’t be an idiot. He should be getting more precise with age, not less.”

  “Okay, boys,” Sariah stepped in. “Try to keep it civil in front of the local cops.” She pointed up ahead to where four officers from the precinct office were milling about. They’d gotten to the crime scene. Time for them to start working together.

  Why did it seem like that was getting to be such an impossible task?

  * * *

  The head stared up at Joshua. Which was more than a little bit weird, since he was standing right above the dismembered torso. Bella had taken one look at the victim, given it a sniff and a growl, then cowered behind Joshua’s leg. Apparently she could tell there was something off about this, too. The killer had forced the head back, pointing the face up toward the underside of the bridge. It wasn’t quite at a ninety degree angle, but it was close.

  This whole thing was just wrong, even more than the last time he was out at one of the crime scenes. It all just felt askew, like someone had taken the world, shaken it like a snow globe, then put it back on the shelf and tried to pretend that nothing had happened.

  The local cops were less than helpful. Joshua had never been a favorite with the law enforcement officials of whatever place he had been dragged to for each case, even back when he was an agent. But at least back then, there had been a level of respect. Now, that professional regard was gone. It was like he was gum on the bottom of their collective shoe that needed to be scraped off and discarded.

  “So,” began one of the cops, a Brian Ingram, if Joshua remembered correctly. He pointed to each of them in turn. “You’re FBI” He gestured at Agent Cooper, then turned to Had. “And you’re a cop from Michigan.” Officer Ingram then swiveled to look at Joshua. “But who are you with?”

  “I’m FBI castrati,” Joshua fired back.

  “What’s that mean?”

  Coop stepped forward. “You don’t want to know. He’s a private consultant working with us on this case.”

  “I get it,” he answered with a grunt. He clearly did not. “So do you mind if I ask what you guys are doing out here? You weren’t invited.”

  “No, we weren’t,” Coop allowed. “But that doesn’t really apply here.”

  “Oh, what? You’re FBI, so you can do whatever the hell you want?” Ingram spat in the dirt, as if to say exactly what he thought of the Bureau.

  Joshua watched as Agent Cooper put on her poker face. “This case is interstate, so the same rules don’t apply in this instance. We’re already in the area working the case.”

  “Yeah, you’re actually here at our invitation,” Joshua added.

  Had stepped forward, placing himself in between the cop and Coop. “What they m
ean is, we’re excited to be working with you and grateful for your help.”

  Ingram’s face puckered like he had just sucked on a battery. Apparently their presence here had ruffled more than a few feathers. In spite of himself, Joshua was beginning to see how much Had’s interaction was helping. The cops in Walcott seemed to be more than happy to have them there. And this guy here had already cooled off enough to stay civil.

  “So, this killer of yours usually plop body parts down right where people can see them?” The policeman craned his neck up to peer at the bridge above.

  No, he didn’t, Joshua thought. That was part of the problem. The body had been found by a couple that was down there getting freaky, where there was the danger of getting caught to add to the thrill. But they would’ve found the torso even if they had kept to the path. The head and torso were visible from the bridge above.

  “This isn’t the first crime scene we’ve processed so far,” Agent Cooper confessed. “But it’s far from the norm.”

  One of the other cops snorted. “Yeah. I’m not sure we can even see normal from where we’re standing.”

  “Gives me the creeps,” confessed Ingram. “Like he’s looking right up at me.”

  “Wait,” Joshua said. “Say that again.”

  “It gives me the creeps,” the cop obliged.

  “No, not that part. The other.”

  “Um. He’s looking at me?”

  Joshua walked around the partially buried body part, following the corpse’s line of sight with his fingers. It led him straight up above to a point on the bridge.

  “Coop? Had?” he called.

  The two moved closer, their eyes intent. Had walked over to the body, peering down on it with an interest that would have seemed creepy from anyone else.

  “What’d you find, Joshua?” Agent Cooper asked.

  “Check out the victim’s eye line,” he answered.

  Had turned around, looking up at the bridge, then back down at the body. He went back and forth for a minute. “Looks like he was staring at the bridge.”

  “He wasn’t looking anywhere,” Joshua stated. “He was placed this way by the killer. The killer is telling us where we should be looking.”