Too Close to Home (The Forensic Files)

by Tressa Messenger

  The wheels in Carma’s brain were turning as she had been listening intently to the conversation going on around her. Suddenly jumping in on the conversation, she asked Linda, “Linda, by any chance did Melissa have some slight bald patches in her scalp?” Linda, apparently not knowing the answer to that question off the top of her head, looked down at Melissa’s autopsy notes. It didn’t take long for Carma and Harold to see Linda’s head begin to nod as she started to look back up at them, obviously finding what she needed.

  Still slightly nodding her head, her eyes filled with a look of both awe and curiosity, she looked directly at Carma and said, “Yes. It seemed that Melissa had several large bald patches on the back of her head. Those kind of bald patches were consistent with a person’s hair being pulled out at the root.”

  No sooner had the last word left Linda’s mouth when Carma banged her hand on her desk and exclaimed, “I know how the son of a bitch did it!”

  Harold looked over at Carma, his eyes shining with pride and said, “For Christ’s sake, Carma, tell us!”

  “So I’m thinking something or someone frightened Melissa out of the locker room after her shower. She runs into a nearby classroom, one she is possibly familiar with, to hide. As she hides under the teacher’s desk, our perp finds her and drags her out from under the desk by her hair, putting her on top of the desk, climbs on top of her and with his knees he restrains her lower body, but never lets go of her hair. She didn’t stand a chance because she was the victim of a surprise attack and attacked by someone who knew what they were doing.”

  “How did you come up with that?” Harold asked her, now standing over her shoulder.

  “Well, in my youth I was known to get into some fights every now and then,” Carma said with a sly smile. “One thing I learned early on is if you grab your opponent’s hair, you have complete control. If our perp is pinning down her legs with his own, there would’ve been no way for her to kick him. If he held a handful of her hair in one of his hands it would render her unable to move and it would have kept her hands and arms busy because she would be trying to free her hair. That left our perp with his other hand free to stab her.”

  “I completely agree,” Linda said, coming into view as she picked up the tablet. “I haven’t had a chance yet, but I need to pull the scalp back to take a better look at the scalp for bruising. You are more than welcome to stay online and watch if you like.”

  Carma looked from Linda, back to Melissa, then back to Linda again, fearful but curious all at the same time. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.”

  Linda put the tablet back down and walked over to the long table and took a disposable mask from out of a box, an electric razor, as well as a small hand saw, almost the size of a dremel tool, hanging on a hook on the wall above the table.

  Carma leaned in closer as she watched Linda make a part in Melissa’s once pretty blond hair and turned on the electric razor. The low hum seemed to vibrate off the brick walls around them. She sliced through Melissa’s hair in one section around the bald patch until the scalp was exposed and showing a dark bruise. She set the razor to the side and pinned the remainder of the hair back securely with hair clips before leaning in with the saw. Nausea built up in Carma’s stomach to the point of sweaty dizziness as she watched Linda saw through Melissa’s skull and her brain matter became exposed.

  “Ahh…yes. See this?” she asked Carma, pointing to the dark spot on the piece of bone where the bruise was.

  Carma looked at it fascinated. “Wow, that’s actually kind of cool.”

  “It definitely supports your theory.”

  “Do you have a more specific time of death?”

  “Well, due to rigor and body temperature, I’m thinking between seven and nine o’clock last night.”

  “Her friend said they left her in the gym around seven-thirty or eight o’clock.”

  “Good, that shortens the time frame even more,” Linda added.

  “Thanks, Linda. We really appreciate you making this a priority because I know your office stays busy,” Carma said sincerely. “As interesting and informative as this has been, Harold and I need to go chat with Melissa’s boyfriend again.”

  “You’re welcome. I will fax you the report when I’m done,” Linda told her with a smile.

  “Okay, thanks. Oh, wait, can you fax me her picture real quick?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Thanks again. Talk to ya later,” Carma said, waving at the screen before ending the call.

  As soon as the fax came in, Carma taped the picture to the dry erase board.

  Harold stared at her curiously. “Do we have an I.D. on the boy yet?” he asked.

  Carma plugged her memory stick into the computer and opened a file. “I’m not sure. I took pictures of everything at the scene. I haven’t had a chance to go through them yet though. Maybe there’s something there that will help us.”

  Harold stood beside Carma, looking at the images in front of them. “Wait! Go back one. Is that where the rope is?” he asked, pointing to some chipped paint on the field goal post.

  Carma leaned in close to get a better look. “Umm…yes.”

  “Is his body heavy enough to rub the paint off like that?”

  “Good question, Harold. Come to think of it, it would be hard for me to believe that someone hanging themselves would be able to make those marks because when someone hangs themselves it happens so fast. Whatever made the marks on the football goal post did not do it quickly. It was slow and deliberate. Just to be certain though, we could do a few experiments and see what happens.”

  An image flashed through her mind as she stared at the picture. “I have a possible scenario that makes the most sense from the evidence we have so far. Think about it.” She tapped a pencil against her lips. “What if the perp threw the rope over the goal post and wrapped one end of the rope around the boy’s neck and standing behind the goal post he was able to pull the boy’s body up, as if he were using a pulley, causing the boy’s body to be on the front side of the field goal for anyone who enters the field to see? This theory actually explains a number of things that were puzzling us earlier about the crime scene. For example, why there were no footprints on the ground, and just how did the body get up so high up without a ladder or something else for him to stand on?”

  Carma clicked on the arrow to show more pictures. She stared at the images of the kid’s body. There were some of him still hanging high in the air and others of him after being cut down and lying on the dry grass.

  “Who are you?” Carma asked the computer screen.

  “A few officers helped haul him down for the EMS. One of the cops, Pete I believe his name is, told me he looked like a kid by the name of Ronnie Marks. He was also a senior.”

  “Could you look up his name to see what you can find?”

  “I’ll look, but if I don’t find him we can always go through the students’ files at the school to try and match his picture.” Harold turned to his computer and typed in the name. “I found a Ronald Marks that fits his age. Nothing much on him though except for a few complaints of loitering from a few store owners. Apparently he was one of those skateboard punks. Oh wait, last month he was busted with marijuana, and charged with misdemeanor possession. Here’s a picture.” Harold printed out the picture and held it up to the dead boy’s picture on the board. “Bingo!”

  Harold pulled out a new folder and printed out Ronald Marks’ information from the system, clipping a picture to the cover and attaching the other to the dry erase board.

  “We got an address?” Carma asked, finally able to pry her eyes off of the dead boy’s face.

  “Yep, he lives in Vandemere.”

  “Let’s go give his parents the bad news.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Wow, I’ve never been to this part of the county before.” He scrunched up his nose looking around. “It doesn’t really look like the rest.”
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br />   “One thing I love about Pamlico County is that even though it may not be as wealthy as some of the other smaller counties that are close to the same size, it has some really beautiful places. However, Pamlico County, like every other county and most cities, has its sketchy spots as well. Vandemere is one of ours. The sad thing is that Vandemere wasn’t always like this. It was a beautiful, but small town that thrived back in the day, but then the commercial fishing industry took a dive and lots of people relocated. I guess it doesn’t help either that Vandemere floods a lot during hurricane season, too.”

  “I can see that. Hey, I think that’s it up there on the right,” Harold said, pointing to an old lime-green single wide trailer with rust creeping down from the roof. He stared at the trailer then looked at Carma. “I can’t imagine Melissa dating a boy who lives somewhere likes this.”

  “Girls like bad boys. Girls like Melissa only fawn over them secretly.”

  “Isn’t Ronald a white kid?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Seems a little odd, considering the look of this neighborhood.”

  “Poor is poor. People around here live where they can afford to,” she told him, silently wondering if that type of thinking came from him being from New York. A place that, unlike Pamlico County, had areas dedicated to particular races and classes of people.

  Harold nodded as he looked over at his partner, then glanced at the trailer in front of them, which was their current destination. He stopped abruptly and said, “I want you to know, Carma, that I mean what I’m about to say with the utmost respect because I know you are a very strong and capable woman, and the last thing I’m trying to do here is profile anyone or anything, but looking at the two of us and where we are, I think it’d be best if I be the one to do all the talking here.”

  Carma lifted a perfectly shaped copper brown eyebrow at him, causing her green eyes to shimmer in the late afternoon sunlight.

  Harold opened the screen door, which was in desperate need of some lubricant, and knocked on the aluminum door. Within seconds the door swung open.

  “Yeah? Can I help you?” a middle-aged white man in greasy coveralls asked.

  “Hello. Are you Mr. Marks?”

  “Yeah. Who wants to know?”

  “I am Detective Harold Green, and this is my partner, Detective Carma Jones. We have some news about your son, Ronald.”

  “What’d he do now?” he asked.

  “Sir, he was found this morning at the school.”

  “Is it a crime to go to school now?” he asked, somewhat impatiently.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I’m not making myself clear. He was found dead at school this morning.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yes, sir, I’m afraid so. May we come in for a moment to speak with you?”

  Mr. Marks didn’t answer, but stood aside and held open the aluminum door for them to enter. He followed them into the small wood paneled living room and sat down on the old dusty couch.

  “What happened to my boy?” he asked Harold, unable to hide the sorrow that was creeping into his voice.

  “Mr. Marks,” Harold began, “all that we can tell you now is that Ronald was found hanging by his neck from the goal post on the football field. He has been sent to Raleigh to the Medical Examiner’s Office and we will know more when the autopsy is complete.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Mr. Marks mumbled and buried his face in his hands.

  “Mr. Marks, when was the last time you saw Ronald?”

  “We call him Ronnie ‘round here’. I dunno, last night, I guess. I know he was here when I got off work. In the evening, I go to bed pretty early so I can get up early for work at the garage.”

  “Has he seemed sad or depressed lately?” Harold pressed.

  “Hell, I don’t know! He’s a kid. They’re all so moody these days.”

  “Do you know if he was friends with Melissa Cooley?”

  “That’s that girl that was found killed yesterday right?”

  Harold nodded.

  Mr. Marks ran a hand through his balding hair. “I really don’t know. I know he was pretty upset about it yesterday. I couldn’t even get him to talk about it. Do you think his death has anything to do with hers?”

  “That’s what we are looking into. Would you know if he had any problems with anyone?”

  “Ronnie had his issues, but he was a good kid. He was just misunderstood.”

  “Would you mind if we had a look in Ronnie’s room? We won’t disrupt anything.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I need to call my wife.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Mr. Marks. Again, I am sorry for your loss. If you have any questions or if you can think of anything else that may help, please feel free to give me a call.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure ya’ll can see yourselves out.”

  “Of course.”

  “You did a good job in there, Harold,” Carma said as soon as they neared the car.

  “Thanks! But no matter how many times you have to do it, it’s never easy telling someone a loved one has died, especially a child.”

  “Harold, we gotta find out who is hurting these kids.”

  “We will,” he said.

  “First, I really think we need to pay Miss Kristen Jenkins another visit.”

  Harold looked at her curiously. “You really think that high-society girl was messing around with a no-body kid like Ronald?”

  “You never know. There’s a link somewhere, I know it. One thing I do know is girls tell their best friends everything. If there was something between Melissa and Ronald, Kristen would be the one to know. To tell you the truth, though, I have also been very curious why she hasn’t mentioned this to us before. If a friend of mine was killed and I knew there was a guy like Ronald following her, I believe I would tell someone.”

  “But she was messing around with Melissa’s boyfriend,” Harold reminded her.

  “I’m sure Melissa didn’t know about that,” Carma assured him.

  “Some friends.”

  “It’s called being teenagers.”

  “I told you they were all crazy.”

  Carma smiled and kept driving out of Vandemere headed toward Highway 55 so she could make a quick stop by the Sheriff’s Department before heading on to Dawson’s Creek to talk to Kristen.

  Chapter Ten

  After checking in at the Sheriff’s Department, Carma and Harold headed toward Dawson’s Creek to Mike and Kristen’s house. While at the Sheriff’s Department, Carma nonchalantly questioned as to where Mike was. She wanted Kristen alone, hoping she would be more straightforward and willing to discuss her relationship with Robert and her best friend’s secrets without her father’s curious ears around.

  Carma rung the bell then turned to Harold. “Good cop, bad cop?”

  “Sure. You want good or bad?”

  “Hmm…girls talk easier to other girls, so I’ll do good cop.”

  “Sounds good to me. These spoiled little kids need to be yelled at, and if their parents aren’t doing it, I sure will.”

  When Kristen opened the door, she looked a little more relaxed than she did the last time Carma saw her. Her eyes, which were bloodshot with puffy dark circles, still seemed tormented, but at least she looked to be fairly lucid.

  “Do you remember me?”

  Kristen nodded.

  “Good, I was wondering if we could come in and speak to you for a minute.”

  Kristen looked around, confused. “I don’t know. My dad isn’t home and he might not . . .”

  “I don’t think he would want to hear what we had to ask,” Harold said, cutting her off. “We spoke to Robert Lee yesterday. He told us everything.”

  Kristen looked back and forth between Carma and Harold before settling on Carma. Her face had gone white, hugging the door close to her chest, but she stepped aside to let them in.

  Carma and Harold froze and looked at each other confused when they found three other teenagers sitting in the living room.

 
“Did we interrupt anything?” Carma asked the group of kids.

  “No, ma’am. We were just checking on Kristen,” a pretty red head girl said.

  “That’s nice of you. Were ya’ll friends with Melissa, as well?”

  “Yes, we were all close,” Kristen said, coming into the room and standing with her friends. They each looked at each other.

  “Can I have your names?” Carma asked taking out her pocket notepad and pen.

  “Brittany Rice.”

  “Marshall Parker.”

  “Kate Morris.”

  “When was the last time any of you saw Melissa?”

  “Brittany and Kate are on the squad with me so they were at practice that night and we all left together,” Kristen said.

  “How about you, Marshall?”

  Marshall shifted from one foot to the other, “Umm…I saw her earlier that day at school.”

  “Did you go out with the others after practice?”

  “No, ma’am, I had to work,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Where do you work?”

  “Andy’s Restaurant in Bayboro.”

  “Kristen, we’re going to leave. Let me know if you need anything,” Brittany said and all three kids left without another word.

  Kristen sat on the couch and pulled her legs up to her chest, deliberately not making eye contact with either Carma or Harold.

  “Kristen…” Carma began as soon as they closed the door.

  Kristen jumped at the sound of her name.

  “…What is your relationship with Robert Lee?” Carma asked softly.

  “Wha-, what do you mean?” Kristen stuttered.

  “You haven’t been straight with us, Kristen,” Harold said with a scowl.

  Kristen looked back and forth between him and Carma with wide, scared eyes.

  “Kristen, we just want to find out what happened to your friend, but we need you to answer us honestly. No more lies.” Carma played her role as good cop better now that she was actually feeling it.

  Kristen took a deep breath to settle her nerves before speaking. “I can’t believe he told you. Well, if you must know, Missy and I got into a fight a few weeks ago at Troy Wilkens’ party. It got pretty nasty so she left all mad, but I stayed. I don’t know why I did it. I was so angry at her and Troy broke into his parents’ liquor cabinet. I swear, I rarely ever drink alcohol.”