by Jon Mills
“Hey Dougy, get your ass over here,” Ted said.
Dakota crouched and looked over the body. Unlike some of the past deaths, the last three women had the same ligature marks on the ankles and hands. The Taylor girl was showing signs of deep knife wounds and hemorrhaging around the throat. Her body was partially stiff. Stiffness in the body usually dissipated somewhere between twenty-four to forty-eight hours. She took out some Vicks from her pocket and dabbed a couple of times under her nostrils. The air was heavy with the smell of rotting meat.
“She didn’t die here.”
“What?” Chief Danvers asked.
Dakota leaned in and pointed to the areas of her body where the blood had pooled. It was dark purple and black. “Look. You see the unnatural color of the skin here. It indicates she was moved here.”
“But she has injuries which appear consistent with having landed against the rocks.”
Dakota stood up, her eyes still on the body. “Of course she was dropped, but that wasn’t what I think killed her.”
She got nearer to her face.
“You see the hemorrhaging around the throat.” She pointed. “She was strangled.”
The chief stepped in and placed his hand on Dakota’s shoulder, leading her off to one side. He spoke in a hushed voice. “Now, let’s not jump to conclusions here, Woods. For all we know this might have been some kinky sex game that she was playing with her lover.”
“Erotic asphyxiation?”
“Right. You know how these university types are.”
Dakota shook her head and stifled a chuckle.
“No, I mean. She’s young. Experimental and so forth.” He paused, staring at her. “I’m saying we don’t want to start turning this into something that’s it not. We are the middle of tourist season and if it gets out we have a killer on the loose, people are going to panic. Then I’m going to have the town manager on my case. You know how these things go.”
“You said the same thing with the Phelps girl.”
Elisa Phelps had gone missing the previous year. Her body was found washed up on the shore.
“No. The coroner’s office determined the cause of death was erotic asphyxiation.”
“Two young university students die from the same thing in a span of a year. Both of them found in the vicinity of Acadia’s mountains and this one is showing signs of knife wounds. Now I’m not an expert, especially since I was pulled out of D.I. training, but I’m pretty certain these deaths are connected.”
Danvers threw a hand up while the other rested on his utility belt. “Now you are jumping the gun.” His brow knit together before he gestured to two officers to go and make sure the media didn’t get through. An excited crowd of people had begun to gather by the entrance.
“So what do you want to do?”
“Let the coroner perform the exam. We’ll go from there.”
“What about the media?”
“Let’s not release anything yet.”
Dakota blew out her cheeks. She saw Dougy stepping a little too close to the body.
“Hey Dougy, don’t go messing up my crime scene,” she said.
“Crime? Go get a coffee or something, Woods. We’ll deal with this.”
“And the families?”
“I’ll have one of the officers notify them.”
“How am I meant to investigate if you keep stopping me from doing my job?”
“Woods, you’re a fine officer but a lousy investigator.”
She couldn’t believe he had the nerve to say it. Then again the whole department still had a very old boys’ club mentality. She had to fight her way into the position she held. It hadn’t come without a fair amount of pushing and shoving. She put up a finger and tapped the air as she turned to walk away. “Then maybe you should have let me finish my training.”
He muttered something to do with cutbacks and the town manager making the call on what they could or couldn’t do. It was all political nonsense. Anyone would think the entire town was under the thumb of Wes Perkins.
“Hey, Woods. Call over to the university and see what you can dig up on her,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. Like she hadn’t thought of that.
From there she took a drive over to Blackwoods Campground. It was located just off Route 3 near Blackwoods Road and Otter Cove. A large brown sign made it clear to campers that there was no more room. It was always full. You had to book months in advance. As she drove up to the registration building, she glanced at a young family walking back from the beach. With towels tossed over their shoulders and the father holding his small child’s hand, they looked as if they were enjoying their vacation.
Danvers was right. They had to be careful. Tourists brought in a large chunk of the island’s income. A loss of revenue in the summer months could really damage businesses.
The registration building was a small house made from clapboard. A large American flag flapped around in the wind. A lone patrol car was parked outside.
Chapter Six
On Saturday mornings they began at nine. At least they were meant to. Ben had called up to Chloe four times to get out of bed. It had become a routine. Thirty minutes of sparring out in the yard. Ben would wear the boxing pads, Chloe would slip on sparring gloves and go toe to toe with her old man.
Chloe leaned out of the window with a white duvet wrapped around her. “Do we have to do this today?”
He smiled thinking she resembled a turtle.
“Do I have to answer that?”
She huffed and disappeared. A moment later, she appeared wearing gray sweats and a white shirt. “I swear you are the only father I know that makes his kid fight on weekends. Now I could understand it if I wanted to go into mixed martial arts but I don’t. Can’t we for once just have a normal Saturday?”
“Normal?”
“Yeah, you know, waking up at ten, crawling out of bed and spending half the day in my pajamas, breakfast at two, and alternating between watching goofy videos online and movies until midnight.”
“What and waste all of this?”
Ben spun around with his arms open, smelling the morning air. It was a crisp blue sky, not a cloud in sight. The Weather Channel said that the temperatures were meant to hover in the high seventies. He stood waiting for her in a small clearing between the trees. A few sailboats were already moving out of the bay for the day.
“Okay, put ’em up.”
“Really, this is getting old, Dad.”
“You need to stay ready for nut jobs like the guy who tried to put the moves on you yesterday.”
She circled him feigning jabs, and then hit the pads with a right hook, followed by a left uppercut. For the past two years they had been doing this. At first it was out of fear; a father’s natural instinct to protect his daughter. He knew he couldn’t watch her twenty-four hours a day, but at least if she could fend off an attacker, that would give him some peace of mind. He’d often wondered if Henri’s victims had attempted to fight back?
If ever there was a time for women to know how to protect themselves, it was in this day and age. Yesterday had only confirmed that. Despite his anger at her for playing hooky, he was pleased to see that she had fought back. Whether she could have got out of the situation was another thing entirely. That’s why he continued to hammer home the need for her to be on her guard. Sure, she was at an age where she was growing tired of it. But the truth was, it was another way to bond with his daughter. It wouldn’t be long before she was off to college.
“Remember to use a kick if an opening presents itself.”
A few seconds after, she winded him with a kick to the side.
“What, like that?” She gave a smirk.
“Alright, smart-ass.”
They continued for another twenty minutes until the front doorbell rang.
“I’ll get that,” Chloe said.
“No, keep practicing, you need it.”
He chuckled, tossing the pads on the grass and jogging into the
house. He was wearing a navy blue hoody with the FBI Academy logo on the breast, gray sweat pants, and sneakers. His white T-shirt below it was soaked through with sweat. On his way to the door he snatched up a bottle of ice-cold water.
Chapter Seven
The man pulled off the thick, disfigured latex mask that made him look like an old man. It was chilling to look at but all part of hiding his identity. It also scared the living shit out of them. He entered a room with hewed stone walls.
It was damp down there but a perfect spot for holding them. No one could hear their cries. He’d made certain of that.
He moved over to a table with a large mirror, five bright orange bulbs above it, and a makeup box. Two more latex masks were on the side. He turned on some music; something that would make his pulse race. Film scores. It got him excited and… he paused for a second then glanced at the mask.
That bitch! She had torn at his mask as she tried to escape.
He let out a guttural scream, slamming his fists against the table. Rage filled him as he thought of how she had rejected his advances. Oh, how he made her pay for that. His chest rose and fell fast. In the background the sound of whimpering could be heard echoing. He turned his head ever so slightly and breathed in deeply, savoring the sound of their pitiful cries.
“Please, I want to go home.”
Did they really expect him to let them go?
This was the best part. He staggered out of the room and made his way down to the solitary confinement. It was their own personal prison. What were they complaining about? They got fed twice a day, showered, had plenty of books to read and a real bed to sleep in. After putting the mask back on, he slid open the metal latch on the door and peered inside. The sight of him gawking at her made her cringe and cower against the wall. That’s right. That’s the way he wanted them to be. Afraid.
“I want to go home, please.”
“Why would you? You are home,” he muttered while silently laughing to himself. Tears streamed down the girl’s face. Most of them were like that. Compliant and willing to do whatever it took to get out. But they weren’t ever getting out of here.
Behind him a voice shouted profanities.
“Let me out, you bastard. I will fucking end your life.”
The sound of her beating on the door was delightful. Oh, he loved to break them down and chip away at their tough exterior. Those were the ones he loved the most. He walked over to the door and matched her banging kick for kick. He screamed like a lunatic.
“Let me out, I want to see my daddy and mommy. Boo fucking hoo,” he let out a maniacal laugh mocking her.
“Come in here and I will tear you apart,” she screamed.
He chuckled to himself. So brave and foolish. Those were the best. Oh they thought they were tough. If she was lucky, he would tear her apart and she would feel every moment of it. He opened the shutter to see this university sweetheart. Blonde and twenty-two years of age, she was a perky one. She ran at the door and spat a huge glob against his face. He smiled beneath his mask, wiped the spit from it, and licked it in front of her. Her face twisted in disgust. She tasted sweet, but she wasn’t ready yet. A few more days. Like plucking a fruit before its time. It needed to ripen. If you tasted it too early, it would be bitter and hard. Too late and there was no resistance. And he loved the resistance that was all part of the fun. Watching the struggle and fight evaporate before squeezing out the light from their eyes was magical.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth’s mother Janice waltzed in without being invited. Not that he minded. She was a good woman, strong, much like Elizabeth. She understood loss after having lost her own husband six years ago to cancer.
“Please tell me you are not still doing those sparring sessions.”
“And good morning to you,” Ben said with a smirk on his face. He took a swig from his water bottle then wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow. Janice went into the kitchen and waved to Chloe who was still punching and kicking the air. For someone that was around a hundred and twenty pounds she sure had one hell of a kick on her. Chloe looked like her mother. She had the same smile, green eyes, dark wavy hair, and the one-liner comebacks.
“Have you seen all the police out on the loop road?” she asked.
Ben set his drink down. He was half listening and studying Chloe’s punches.
“Ben.”
“Right, police, yeah. What was that?”
She groaned. “There are several cruisers blocking the road. A few others were pulling people over, checking tires and asking questions about if anyone had seen anything suspicious in the last forty-eight hours. Have you heard of anything?”
Now anyone else might have shrugged it off and not given it a passing thought. Ben’s mind went into overdrive. He moved into the living area and flicked on the TV. On a side table a photo frame had an image of the family together in better days. A few channels later he landed on Eden Falls News. A woman reporter stood just beyond yellow police tape reporting an accident that had occurred in the forest. Ben recognized the area behind her as the entrance to the precipice trail.
“We will update you as police release more information.”
Ben flicked away through a few more channels and then turned it off.
“I should probably go over and see what’s going on.”
Janice lightly placed her hand on his arm. “Ben, it’s okay.”
He ran a hand across his stubbled jaw. Right then, Chloe came into the room still wearing her mitts. “Everything okay?”
She could tell she had interrupted something.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine. Come on, let’s finish off.”
That morning Janice cooked up a breakfast. Bacon, eggs, and French toast while Ben and Chloe finished off their sparring session. She was getting better every week. When they first arrived in Eden Falls, they sparred every few days. Beyond giving him peace of mind, it had become a great way to get his mind off the loss of Elizabeth and Adam.
Initially he had Chloe going alone to see Dr. Emily Rose. A way to get her talking again as she had stopped playing guitar and even talking. It took a few months but it worked. In fact, it worked so well that Dr. Rose suggested that perhaps Ben should arrange to see her, too. Of course he’d been against the idea. He’d always considered talking to someone about his feelings was a sign of weakness. It stemmed from his military days and seeped over into his time as a detective in Manhattan. By the time he made it into the FBI they were lucky if they could get him to open up to anyone except Elizabeth. She had a natural way of drawing it out of him.
Anyway, she eventually convinced him after Chloe got on his case.
She’s nice, Dad, it actually helps, she would say.
The first meeting with her was full of awkward silence. The only noise came from the ticking clock and Ben clearing his throat every ten minutes. She said it was normal. In fact, it was part of the opening process. Words were only to be used when he was ready. So those first three months were spent saying very little. Eventually conversation moved to simple everyday events. More about Dr. Rose’s life than his. Though in time that changed and she would ask how he was coping with Chloe, and what he’d planned to do now that he wasn’t actively in the field as an agent.
Therapy worked, but it was tough.
Chapter Nine
Later that afternoon, Ben dropped off Chloe at her grandmother’s. She was going to be staying there for the weekend. Janice said it was to help out, but really she just loved seeing her granddaughter. From there he headed down to Eden Harbor with Jinx. She would sit up front in the truck and stick her snout out the window, letting the breeze blow her lips around.
Eden Falls was nestled between the glacial lakes and mountains of Acadia and the rugged coast of the Atlantic Ocean. It had a small-coastal town charm that drew in millions of visitors from all over the United States. He pulled out onto Route 3, a narrow two-lane road that went down a steep winding hill until he could see the rocky coastline. Among t
he fish draggers who were offloading their catch and taking on new supplies, the harbor was packed with schooners, yachts, whale-watching tour boats, and even a visiting cruise ship that could be seen in the distance.
Main Street and the marina were the heart of the town. It was full of all your typical shops, restaurants, taverns, hotels, as well as bed and breakfasts. Busy and bustling with activity, there were around ten different roads that went downhill to the edge of the harbor. Dotted around the coastline were historic homes, mansions, and Victorian cottages.
He parked the truck on a steep incline right outside Calyn’s Café. He kept the windows rolled down for Jinx and went to grab a bite to eat. He never worried about her. She usually curled up in a ball and went to sleep or watched the boats as they came in. There had only been a few times Ben had to come out and quiet her after she got overly excited from a group of seagulls that landed nearby.
The town had grown on Ben. At first he was used to living in Florida where the weather was warm all year round. But he liked the change of pace, the different seasons, and the locals were friendly. It was a quaint little place with old-fashioned lampposts, benches, and carved signs that blew back and forth in the wind. Most of the buildings were made from clapboard.
Calyn’s had become a regular spot that he felt comfortable hanging out in. It wasn’t a seedy bar, or a greasy spoon diner but a laid-back café with big lobster claws sticking out the front. Wyatt Calyn owned the place. He went in and took a seat by the window. Somewhere he could keep a close eye on Jinx.
