Blue Baby

by Arnold, Carolyn

  “The victim’s name is Penny Griffin,” he told us. “She was twenty-six. She was found by Officer Burden after a call was placed to PD by the school where she works. And before anyone asks, she was a substitute teacher at Ben Franklin Elementary. She had a class to teach today. She didn’t show so they called it in.”

  It might strike most as a drastic measure—calling in law enforcement when an employee doesn’t show for work—but it happened more often than people realized. The sad part was that in this world, when one assumed a tragic event, one was often correct.

  “The principal said Griffin was always punctual and responsible,” Powers continued, “which is why she called us. Ironically, she does have a blip on her criminal record. She was arrested for shoplifting as a teen. Her prints are on file. She also fits the profile of Tara and Cheryl. She’s in her twenties, single, and beautiful. No siblings to inform and her parents are both dead.”

  “What about relationships?” Paige asked. “Was she engaged?”

  “Still working to confirm.”

  “But she was found in a wedding gown?”

  “Come see for yourself.”

  Powers led the four of us into a spacious bathroom, the size of which was unexpected based on the size of the apartment itself. It was almost as if the rest of the place had been designed around the bathroom.

  A crime scene photographer was leaving the room, and we crowded around the doorway. Manning was over the body conducting preliminary checks.

  “Manning said he’d have to get the body back to the morgue for the full autopsy to conclude she was killed by the same means of suffocation, but she was definitely asphyxiated,” Powers said.

  The victim was a brunette like Cheryl Bradley. Penny was in the tub, her face done up in makeup, her eyes painted in soft golden hues. Her earrings were diamond studs outlined in silver. She didn’t wear a necklace.

  “Those earrings look like they belong with Tara’s necklace,” Paige said.

  Her gaze must have been taking Penny in at the same speed as me. My eyes returned to Penny.

  There was a subtle resting smile on Penny’s face. She was draped in a wedding gown, and the fabric flowed over the edges of the porcelain. In her lap, her severed ring finger lay in a pool of blood. Her hands were palms up, rigor having curled her fingers inward.

  “The other victims had their hands overlapping,” I said.

  Zach nodded.

  My gaze went back to Penny’s hands. What did this tell us about the killer? Why had he detoured from his original posing method? Was it intentional or a mishap? Also, he hadn’t waited a year between kills this time. His motivation wasn’t attached strictly to a date anymore—if it ever truly had been. And if it was important at one point, what had changed?

  “When do you place time of death?” Jack asked Manning.

  “Based on the stages of rigor mortis, I’d say between midnight and two this morning.”

  “We need to find out her last whereabouts. Collect her computer—assuming she has one—and forward it to Nadia Webber.” Jack handed Powers a card.

  “Will do. What are you thinking?” Powers asked.

  “It’s possible these women were members of a dating site and targeted that way. It’s one angle we’re looking at, but that’s all it is at this point.”

  Powers nodded. “But weren’t the women all engaged or recently broken up from these relationships?”

  “The victims were described by others as measuring their worth based on their relationships with men. The women were seen as flirts,” Zach stepped in to answer Powers. “It’s possible they sought out additional attention online.”

  “And, sadly, they received it,” Powers said.

  I caught Barber sneaking in sideways glances at Paige. It didn’t make me jealous, not even a twinge spiked through me today. I attributed it to the conversation I had with Zach last night and how it reminded me what a relationship with Paige equated to—a transfer from BAU or worse, termination.

  “Did we get any tangible evidence on our killer? Prints, DNA?” Paige asked.

  Powers nodded. “Yes, we did.”

  “What?” I hadn’t expected that response. Our unsub had been careful not to leave anything behind to tie him to the previous crime scenes.

  “We got partial shoe prints, a man’s size eleven.”

  “Shoe prints?” I asked seeking clarification.

  “Starting in the bathroom and leading in the direction of the door. There was a black residue on the floor near the tub. The killer must have stepped in it before leaving. I’m surprised he never cleaned it up,” Powers said.

  “Maybe he didn’t notice or was in a hurry to leave. What was the residue?” Paige asked.

  “It still needs to be analyzed, but it didn’t come from anything of Penny’s so the killer must’ve brought it with him. We also have another lead. The victim had a Ford Fiesta registered to her. It was found in the parking lot of Shooters & Pints, a local bar. A tow truck brought it to an impound lot sometime around five this morning.”

  “Paige and Zach, go speak with the manager of the bar,” Jack said.

  “There’s no need. We already have. I got ahold of the owner at home,” Powers interjected.

  Jack’s facial features hardened with every word Powers proceeded to say. “Home?”

  “Adrian Rhodes is a good friend of mine. He said there was an incident at the place last night. An altercation resulted in one man taking down three. The man left with a woman matching Penny’s description.”

  Jack was one shade of red away from exploding, but he remained quiet. My guess was he was too livid to speak. This case was technically the FBI’s not local PD’s. Everything should’ve been cleared through us first and tasks divvied up from there. If we wanted their help, that was. It might seem petty from the outside—different divisions of law enforcement squabbling for control—but there were procedures for a reason, and I understood Jack’s anger. What I didn’t understand was his not saying anything. Whatever was going on in his personal life had crippled the man’s professional focus with this investigation. If I were past my probationary period, I might’ve confronted Jack, but as it was I had to find the strength to leave it alone.

  “What did this man look like?” I asked.

  “Dark hair, dark eyes. He was in good physical shape,” Powers said.

  So here we were. Three bodies in, limited physical evidence, and the description of a John Doe. “Were there any distinguishing markers about the man?” I asked.

  Barber shook his head.

  “What about a police report? Was one filed for this altercation? We should speak with the three men.” I watched Powers’s eyes glaze over and glanced to Barber. The smirk was gone from the other man’s face. “Did you speak with them already, too?”

  Jack’s energy was a blazing fire now. Powers was one wrong answer away from Jack going militia on his ass. He pulled out his cigarette pack and put one in his mouth.

  Powers watched Jack carefully, and despite the seeming urge to comment on how he wasn’t to light up at a crime scene, he didn’t say anything.

  Manning closed his kit and headed toward the door. His eyes went to mine on his way by. “As soon as you leave, I’ll come back for her. I’ll do the autopsy this evening.”

  I nodded to acknowledge his words.

  Jack’s attention was on Powers. “My agent asked you a question.” The unlit cigarette bobbed in his mouth.

  “We haven’t yet.”

  Jack removed the cigarette. “But you were going to? This investigation, may I remind you, belongs to the FBI.”

  Barber stepped closer to the Powers. “Isn’t the most important thing finding out who is doing this to these women?”

  A pulse tapped in Jack’s jaw. It wasn’t a r
eaction I saw often, but it had me moving away from the man.

  “Yes, you are right, Detective. And that’s what my team intends to do. It starts with calling the shots and conducting a thorough investigation. We can’t be running off in different directions.” Jack held the man’s eye contact.

  A few seconds later, Powers said, “Fair enough. But if it wasn’t for us calling you in, you wouldn’t be on this case.”

  “This man has killed three women—and these are ones we know of. He killed one a year ago, another an exact year later, and a third a few days after the last one. He’s escalated. He’s starting to act on impulse. If the man from the bar is the one who killed her”—Jack pointed a thick thumb toward Penny—“then we need to hunt the son of a bitch down and stop the killing immediately. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I—”

  “There’s nothing left to say. We are trained to handle serial killers and Grand Forks has one. Are you going to let us do our job or must I go over your head?”

  Powers pulled on the collar of his shirt, and Barber raised his hands.

  “Good. We have an agreement.” Jack turned to Paige and Zach. “You two will visit the men who were beaten. Powers will give you the information on where to find them.”

  “All of them are at Altru Health Clinic,” Powers conceded.

  Jack continued. “Brandon and I will go to the bar and see if they have a camera.”

  Powers raised his hand as if he were in class and had a question. Jack’s eyes slid to him.

  “Adrian doesn’t have cameras,” Powers said.

  “All right.” Jack put the cigarette back into his mouth. “You two will hit up the men at the hospital, and we’ll speak to the principal at the school, then.”

  “If I may,” Barber began, “here’s another bit of information you’d like to know. Penny didn’t own this dress. At least there’s no indication in the apartment that she did. No packaging for it. For Cheryl and Tara, we found the boxes.”

  This revelation caused my stomach to tighten. What had been a passing thought with Tara was confirmed for Penny. “The killer brought the dress with him.”

  Zach summarized. “And likely the ring. So, not only is he now killing women within days of one another, but he’s creating his ideal situation. He’s manipulating things to match his version of what these women should look and be like.”

  I blew out a deep sigh. “And that’s a bad combination.”

  -

  Chapter 30

  IT WAS SWELTERING OUT, and sweat gathered at the small of my back and beaded on my forehead as the four of us discussed the case outside Penny’s apartment building.

  “He may have been disturbed during the process this time,” Zach began. “For one, her hands weren’t posed. He could have cut her finger off and dropped both it and her hand.”

  Jack lit a cigarette. “You think he was in a rush?”

  Zach nodded. “I think it’s quite possible he thought someone might walk in on him.”

  “Penny lived alone so it wasn’t a roommate,” I ruminated. “The fact that he didn’t notice or take the time to clean the black residue from the floor shows he wanted out of there.”

  “It would be good if we could figure out why, but either way, our killer wasn’t taking his usual time.” Jack let out a puff of smoke.

  “What sinks in my gut is the fact that he brought the dress.” As if on cue with my words, bile churned in my stomach.

  “And it wouldn’t make sense for him to show it to her while she was alive,” Paige inserted.

  “They must’ve taken his car, too. It could explain why Penny’s was left at the bar. He may have kept the dress in his vehicle. Then after he killed her, he likely slipped out for the dress, hoping he wasn’t spotted,” I added. “I wonder if anyone noticed an unusual vehicle around here last night.”

  “I’ll make sure Powers has the canvassing officers ask that question,” Jack said.

  “The killer was taking huge risks in this situation.” Paige placed a hand on her stomach, and I figured these developments were as unsettling to her as they were to me.

  “If someone did stop him while he brought the dress inside, he could have explained it away. It would be as simple as saying he was bringing her a gift,” I said, glancing at Jack. He had a distant look to his eyes and was puffing away on his lit cigarette. I fanned the smoke out of my face. If he noticed, he gave no indication.

  “We need to confirm if Penny Griffin was engaged,” Paige said. “The ring, like the dress, may have been brought by the killer. It seems this bride”—she attributed air quotes to the word bride—“had more than one something new.”

  “New? Or borrowed? And, as you pointed out about the earrings Penny wore, they are a visual match to Tara’s necklace,” Zach said.

  Paige looked at Zach, and then to Jack. “Jack, we need Cheryl’s earrings from evidence to see if we can figure out where they came from. Maybe see if there is any epithelial on them not belonging to Cheryl.”

  Jack snubbed out the butt of the cigarette under a twist of his shoe. “Get it done.”

  Paige dialed on her cell and then lifted it to her ear. “Detective Barber… Okay, Sam…”

  I tuned out the rest of the conversation. It was apparent the detective would rather Paige address him in a personal manner.

  “Excuse me!” An older woman was rushing toward us, waving her arms. Her hair was short and in tight curls. She was rotund, and her gait resembled a waddle. “Are you with the FBI?”

  I’d be a smart-ass and ask what gave it away if our clothing had the acronym printed on it, but we were dressed business casual so she got a pass. “We are.”

  “Well, I can’t get anywhere close to Penny’s apartment. It’s obvious something happened there, and I need to check on her.” Her eyes gauged mine, but I wasn’t going to provide a verbal answer to her fishing expedition. “I’m Sharon McBride, and I’m the landlady of this building. Penny is two months behind with her rent.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Paige putting her phone away. I realized the contrast between Penny being seen as responsible and her financial delinquency.

  “I knocked on her door last night,” Sharon continued.

  “What time?” I asked.

  “Fifteen minutes past midnight.”

  “You remember it that clearly?”

  “Yes.” Sharon’s head angled to the right. She obviously didn’t appreciate my skepticism and reciprocated with attitude. “I heard movement in the apartment, and it was obvious she had company.”

  Now she had my attention. The medical examiner placed the time of death between midnight and two. “Do you know who? Did you see anyone?”

  Sharon’s eyes lit up, and she pointed at finger in my face. “I knew it! What happened to her? Is she all right?”

  “I can’t comment at this time. It’s an ongoing invest—”

  “Penny Griffin was murdered last night,” Jack said.

  “Oh… Oh my.” Tears welled in Sharon’s eyes, and her balance faltered. Zach quickly steadied her. She continued to hold on to his forearm as she addressed Jack. “Do you think it was her company from last night?”

  “It’s quite likely. Did you see who that was?” Jack asked.

  Sharon shook her head, but the glaze to her eyes told me she was holding back.

  “Is there something else you should be telling us?” I asked.

  Sharon’s eyes snapped to mine. “I heard her. It was muffled, but I thought she might be having sex. Oh my, what exactly happened to her?”

  “We cannot provide details at this time.” I glanced at Jack. He didn’t add anything to what I said, so apparently he was satisfied with my reply. I went on, pressing her about what she had heard. “The muffled noises—can you descri
be them?”

  Zach placed his hand on Sharon’s. I recognized it as an effort to calm her. It had the opposite effect. Sharon broke apart, tears streaming down her face and sobs heaving her body.

  Zach and I made eye contact, the silent communication confirming that we’d leave Sharon alone at this juncture. It was sinking in for her that she had heard the woman’s last cries for help and had done nothing about it.

  Jack signaled a nearby police officer and requested he take Sharon back to her apartment and stay with her until friends or family arrived.

  When she was out of earshot, Zach said, “The moans and muffled cries the landlady heard were likely the sound of the killer taking Penny’s life.”

  “I guess we know why our killer was rushed,” I expanded. “It was too late for him to turn back, and he needed to follow through. It made him careless.” The latter explained the black residue left on the bathroom floor and tracked through the apartment.

  Paige watched after Sharon. “I can’t imagine what she is going through.”

  I followed her gaze. Sharon could be the key to solving this case. When she received no answer at Penny’s door, did she simply go back to her apartment intending to catch Penny in the morning? Had she seen our unsub entering the building with a box or garment bag not long later and just not known it was anything to worry about? We’d have to revisit Sharon McBride and see if anything else came back to her.

  -

  Chapter 31

  THE MAN WAS SITTING IN his hospital bed. His left eye was swollen and puffy in shades of purple. His left arm was in a cast and hung in a sling. His bed table was positioned in front of him with what remained of his lunch on it—the crust from a sandwich and a package of carrot sticks. He was lifting a styrene cup to his lips as Paige and Zach entered his room.

  “Are you Ryan Ingram?” Paige asked, rattling off the name of one of the men who’d been beaten up at Shooters & Pints.