by Liz Bradford
“This is good guys. Keep it coming.”
“Based on the notes that were found with the flowers,” Jared said, “We can see that there is some religious influence as well.”
Becca raised her index finger. “Right, I wonder if we’re looking at like a cult influence based on the extreme measures he’s taking to ‘punish’ these women.”
“Good thoughts,” Benson said, “I hadn’t thought of that. This is why this is a team effort. Let’s go back to the flowers now. Where’s he getting them?”
Becca spoke, “Not from any of the local florist shops. Doug and I went to every single one. None of them had a history of any of these flowers being bought around the appropriate times.”
“So, who else would have access to them?” Jared asked.
Becca replied, “Anyone who has a greenhouse at their disposal, I guess. Because many of the flowers have been out of season. If it was May his options for finding flowers would be greater, but in September and October he’s going to have to have a place to force them to flower now.”
Jared asked, “Then who has access to a greenhouse?”
“Florists, gardeners, at least a dozen of the farms on the outskirts of town have their own greenhouses,” Adam said.
“And landscapers,” Rick added. “Of course, anyone could build their own little greenhouse in their backyard. It doesn’t take much space and materials. We have one so that we can grow veggies all year round.”
Adam smiled. “I guess you’re now on the suspect list.”
With a straight face, Rick said, “Ha. Very funny, Jamison. But seriously, landscaper could explain the rocks as well.”
“Rocks?” Benson asked.
Rick answered, “Yeah, we have confirmation that he is using rocks to cause their injuries. So, a landscaper, or someone in a similar field, would have access to all sorts of stones, and not just gravel, but decorative stones as well that could have caused the larger bruises.”
Benson said, “Well, that makes a lot of sense. Doesn’t mean he is, but it could be key.”
“Could be a common point of how he is meeting them then,” Jared said. “Maybe there is a common landscaper around the areas the ladies frequented.”
“Maybe, although I feel like we covered anyone like that,” Becca said. “But maybe it isn’t an overt connection.”
The conversations lulled for a few moments as the detectives digested these new ideas. Then Benson asked them another question, “So what’s the trigger? I agree with what you said about his mother, so I’m not saying this isn’t true, but if it was his mother, why start now?”
“I’ve been wondering the same,” Jared said.
“What about a wife?” Rick asked.
“That could make sense,” Becca said. “He has a wife or girlfriend, and they have a kid. She does something that ends their relationship. He blames her for it being over. Maybe she has kept him from seeing their child.” Becca took the last swig of her coffee Benson had brought her and was feeling encouraged that maybe they were making progress. She looked at Jared as he began to speak.
“But if that were true why pick these random ladies and not go after his own wife?”
“She’s probably somehow inaccessible. Perhaps she has an order of protection?” Adam suggested.
“Yeah, but he’s murdering women, somehow I don’t think he’s concerned about abiding by the law,” Jared rebutted.
“Private security detail?”
“Ah, that could make sense then,” Jared seemed satisfied at that answer, but Becca had another thought.
“Maybe he killed his wife too, but it wasn’t enough.” Silence fell across the guys as they considered it.
Benson broke the silence, “So we’re dealing with a psychopath with a wife and/or mommy complex. He accuses them of destroying their relationships. He’s likely someone who works in landscaping or other field that would afford him access to the rocks and flowers. There is the possibility of a cult or overly religious influence. It’s also likely that he has a history of violence, possibly domestic abuse, but some sort of negative encounter with the law is likely. Jamison, you are sitting at the computer typing away. Have you found any potential suspects based on the information we just sifted through?”
“Too broad.”
“Okay, that’s just the first piece. What else do we know about this guy and how he works?”
Jared answered, “Well, he’s smart. Until this last victim, he’s been extremely careful to clean the bodies of any trace evidence. Not a hair, a fiber, nor a spec of dirt has been found on them except from where he dumped their bodies. So, he’s cleaning them and then transporting their bodies in something that is perfectly clean and then laying them on the ground without leaving a trace of himself behind.”
“Seriously,” Rick said, “I think he might be a CSI addict, because there is no way someone thinks to clean a body as thoroughly as he does.”
“Could be a case of true OCD, too,” Becca added.
“Okay, maybe it’s clinical OCD, treated and everything. Jamison,” Benson said.
“Already on it.” Jamison typed away on the computer searching criminal medical records. They all waited as Jamison searched. “Nothing local, taking it statewide…… Nothing.”
Becca’s stomach lurched forward. “Wait a minute.” She reached across the table and grabbed the file marked “Michelle MacDonald.”
“What is it, Becca?” Jared asked.
She flipped through the file, scanning for information about Michelle’s husband. “There!” she said and emphatically pointed to the file as she set it back on the table. “Tony MacDonald is a landscaper.”
“The first victim’s ex-husband?” Benson asked.
“Yes! What if this guy’s first victim was his wife, and Michelle was that wife.” Becca thought she was going to be sick. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it before. Why hadn’t she taken Doug’s suspicions more seriously?
Rick asked, “Didn’t he have an alibi?”
“I believe so.” Becca dropped her shoulders. She continued to scan the file. “But it was a weak alibi. He claimed that he was at a bar when Michelle went missing, but no one from the bar could remember when he was there. And the surveillance camera wasn’t working.”
“So maybe it is him,” Adam said.
She steepled her fingers in front of her mouth.
Adam said, “What is it, Palmer?”
“Surveillance… Hmmm… let me see your computer.”
“Sure, here.”
She took Adam’s computer and started typing away. She had seen something on security footage the other day. “On Monday, when we were at Food Lion, we looked at video of Angela’s last trip to the supermarket. I noticed her talking to someone that seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it.” She pulled up the file the store manager had sent her. “It just dawned on me who it was. It was Tony MacDonald. Yep, there he is, talking to Angela.”
Jared scooted closer and the rest of the guys got out of their seats and gathered around her to watch the clip.
Rick said, “That’s more than just a quick, ‘Do you know where they moved the mustard?’ conversation.”
“Looks like they knew each other,” Jared added.
Becca sat back and crossed her arms. “I bet we’ll find he knew Crystal and Tonya, too.”
Yesterday’s fog was gone and today the sun shone brightly through the window of the police station. Becca sat at her desk and doodled on the pad of paper sitting in front of her. Right now, it was a waiting game. The search warrant should come through at any moment, and they would head out to Tony MacDonald’s home and workplace. They had him. Becca was confident that their search would produce some solid evidence that Tony had killed his wife and the other three women.
The detectives had spent the rest of the day yesterday and early this morning digging into who Tony was. They found that he fit the profile perfectly. Not only did he own his own landscaping company, complete w
ith greenhouse that supplied fresh flowers all year round to a local florist and with the exact the types of rocks that had been found in Angela’s wounds, but he had a history that lined up as well. He grew up in a dysfunctional family; his parents divorced when he was three and his mom became deeply involved with an extremely dogmatic religious cult. And he had a record. Most of it was a sealed juvenile record, which had taken all morning to get unsealed, but it revealed that he had an anger issue that he had taken out on the local wildlife, including his neighbor’s cat. And while there was only one conviction, several reports of domestic violence filled his jacket as well. That was exactly the kind of evidence that they had expected to find in their killer’s past. This guy fit the profile.
They had yet to find his connection to Tonya and Crystal, but Becca knew it was just a matter of time. Once he was in the interrogation room she would simply ask him.
Becca pulled her old leather briefcase out from under her desk. She pulled out the copies of the case file she kept in there and set them on her desk. Random papers had been collecting in there and what better time to organize than while waiting for a warrant. She pulled a stack of disheveled papers out and threw away a random granola bar wrapper that had made its way inside. She sorted out the papers, most of which where her scribbled notes about cases that were already closed, but they still needed to go through the shredder. The name on one paper caught her eye. Jane Monroe, a woman who had come in to report her abusive husband. Her heart plummeted to the floor. Today was not the day she needed a reminder of how she had failed to follow through on a case. She wouldn’t let that happen again. She was going to follow through with Tony MacDonald and make sure to get a conviction for that man who thought beating his wife was acceptable.
Becca took care of the papers and set her briefcase back under her desk. She picked up her pen again and drummed it on her desk. The waiting was driving her nuts. They couldn’t do anything until they had that search warrant.
“Becca! Stop.” Jared said from across their desks.
She looked up at him and stopped the tapping.
“A little impatient, are we?” he said with a smile.
“Shut it,” she said with narrow eyes. “I seriously want to know what is taking the judge so long to get back to us. The day is dwindling.” She tossed the pen down on the desk. “We have to go get this guy.”
“Just because we get a search warrant doesn’t mean we’ll find enough to bring him in.”
“I’m sure we will though.”
“Are you?” He leaned forward on his arms with his hands folded on his desk.
“Yes! You doubt that we will?” She pulled her head back.
“I’m just not sure. Something feels off.”
“Jared, all the evidence points to this guy. What is the likelihood that anyone other than our UNSUB would fit this profile?”
“I know, not likely, but you have to keep an open mind. My gut—”
“Jared, seriously, your gut? We’re cops. We have to go where the evidence leads. And right now, it’s pointing at this guy.”
“Yes, we do have to follow the evidence. I’m not disagreeing with you on that; it’s just that we have to keep perspective. We aren’t detectives because we can see the evidence; we’re detectives because we can interpret the evidence.”
“Exactly, and my interpretation of this evidence is that Tony MacDonald is the killer.”
“He may be. But he may not be.”
“He is.”
Adam appeared beside their desks. “What are the two of you arguing about?”
Jared and Becca just stared each other down.
“Fine, don’t tell me. But looky at what I have.” He waved the search warrant.
“Finally; it’s about time!” Becca jumped out of her chair and went to snatch it out of Adam’s hand.
He lifted the papers out of her reach. “Slow down, killa’. We’ve got two copies. The warrant covers MacDonald’s home and business. Should Miller and I take one place while you and Johnson go to the other?”
Becca huffed. “Yes. Jared and I will go to his landscaping company. You guys take the house.” She held out her hand and glared at Adam.
He smiled and handed her one copy of the warrant.
Becca opened the door to the green house and was met with the sweet smell of flowers. They had been searching the landscaping company’s grounds for the last hour, with nothing to show for it. Not one shred of physical evidence to tie Tony MacDonald to his wife’s murder, let alone any of the other victims. Discouragement was knocking at her door, but she refused to open it. She glanced down at her watch. It was already almost six o’clock.
She wished she was here for any other reason and could just take in the beautiful sight of the flowers and plants that filled the large greenhouse. As a half dozen of the officers she brought with her fanned out through the greenhouse, Becca, with Jared by her side, headed to the area that seemed to be most densely populated by flowers. They were absolutely gorgeous. Her eyes immediately settled on a group of asters. She whispered to Jared, “These are gorgeous, just like the picture above the mantel.” She smiled at him and met his eyes. They beamed. Her heart fluttered, and she quickly averted her eyes back to the flowers. The sweet emotion vanished as her eyes fell on a group of white chrysanthemums, the flower that had been with Crystal Atkins. Becca’s heart sank. Looking around further she found hydrangeas, violets, and finally pink carnations. All the flowers that had been found with the victims. She wondered as she looked at the other flowers if they were meant for other potential victims. Did he have someone in mind for the daisies? What about the yellow, orange, or red tulips? What about the roses? What did white roses or the red roses mean? Did he have a whole list of possible victims? Her stomach churned.
“Jared, there are so many flower possibilities here?”
“I know.” He gently gripped her elbow. He knew exactly where she was going with that thought.
There was a commotion back by the door. The both turned.
“What the heck is going on here? You can’t be here.”
Becca moved towards the door. It was Tony MacDonald.
Before she could speak, he spoke again, “Detective Palmer? What’s going on? Why are y’all here?”
“We have a search warrant, Mr. MacDonald.” She held out the warrant for him to take.
He looked it over. “I don’t understand. You can’t possibly think I had anything to do with Michelle’s murder!”
“That’s what we’re trying to assess. Did you? Did you murder your ex-wife?”
He lunged at Becca. “How could—” Jared and another officer grabbed him. “How could you say such a thing?” He cooled a little and shook the guys off. But as he did Becca caught sight of something green and gold glimmer from under his button-up shirt.
She stepped closer and pulled the neck chain with a ring hanging from it out of his shirt. “What’s this?” she said.
“It was Michelle’s favorite ring.”
“I know! She had it with her when she went missing. The only way you have it now is if you killed her! Turn around, Tony MacDonald, you are under arrest for the murder of your ex-wife, Michelle MacDonald.”
“But I didn’t—”
“You have the right to remain silent,” she said as she slapped the handcuffs on him.
Jared followed Becca out of the squad room of the police station toward the interrogation room. Once she had finished reading MacDonald his Miranda rights and put him in a cruiser, they had both headed back to the station leaving the uniforms to look for any further clues. Something felt off about this, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He really wished they had more than circumstantial evidence against this guy at this point. But while it was purely circumstantial, it was still solid. There was good reason to believe they had the right guy.
He picked up his pace to keep up with Becca’s determined steps as they turned the corner and walked into the older section of the police
station. The detectives’ squad room was in a section of the building that had only been built about ten years ago, but the holding cells and interrogation room were in the original section of the building. At over a hundred years old the brick walls showed their age in a distinguished way, providing the building with a sense of history rather than age.
Becca swung the door to the interrogation room open with such gusto that it whipped back and nearly knocked Jared over. He made eye contact with the Captain, who stood on the other side of the two-way mirror, and then Jared entered the room. Captain Baker’s expression was flat making it difficult for Jared to get a read on how he felt about this arrest. Jared watched Becca as she slapped the folder in her hand down on the table and yanked the chair out from across where Tony MacDonald sat. Becca sat but remained silent and stared Tony down. He was not used to this side of Becca. He was more accustomed to her calm, almost timid side. That side was nowhere to be seen tonight. She was on fire, ready to take this guy down. Maybe it was just his unfamiliarity with Becca taking charge and being the hothead that was making the situation feel off to him.
Jared leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms across his chest and examined Tony’s face. Jared had been in his fair share of interrogations, so he had seen everything: the innocent who didn’t understand why they were there, the innocent who looked guilty, the guilty that feigned innocence, the guilty who were proud of their guilt, and everything in between. Jared really wasn’t sure which category Tony fit in. Circumstances pointed to guilt, but the way he kept rubbing his neck and his furrowed eyes and frown made Jared question that guilt.
“So, tell me, Mr. MacDonald,” Becca spoke softly, “Why did you kill your wife and those other women?”
“I didn’t!”
“Stop pretending like your innocent.” Becca smacked the metal table. “Four women all killed. All just like your ex-wife. All had little kids, who now have no mother to tuck them in at night. You took that away from them. These kids will never again get to have their mothers rock them to sleep at night or kiss their boo-boos.”
