Heron Park

by C. K. Raggio

  Cassie covered her face, shutting out the world. This isn’t real. It couldn’t be. It’s not happening. She would wake up at any moment.

  Hank’s voice droned on. “She was brutally raped and sodomized. He ate…” He took a quivering breath. “He bit off her nipples and shoved a knife up into her while she was still alive. The cause of death was blood loss. Postmortem, he bit three of her fingers down to the bone and snapped them off. Then he carved Merry X-mas across her back. He removed all traces of himself with bleach.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t going to wake up, because this wasn’t a dream. How can someone be that sick? Her body wavered and she gagged, throwing her hand over her mouth. Izzy’s smiling face, her laugh, her flirtatious waves. She’d never see them again. Never see her again. Izzy was nothing but a corpse.

  It's all my fault.

  Her stomach clenched. She ran for the restroom. Her fist smashed against the door and it flung open. She just made it to the toilet before her retching heaves launched her last small meal into the porcelain bowl.

  When there was nothing left, she splashed her face with water from the faucet. She slid to her knees and leaned her head against the floor. Who would the killer go after next? If she really was his intended target, why did he give up and go after Izzy? She should be dead, not Izzy.

  Cassie jumped as the heat in the bathroom came on with a thump. He could be watching her right now. She scanned the restroom. The stall doors were all open. Nobody lurked inside them. The room had no window.

  Their guy tortured her partner. Raped her. The fear and agony Izzy must’ve suffered. A flood of emotion overwhelmed Cassie. She couldn’t see through her tears, and at this point, she didn’t care. Her sobs grew louder and louder as guilt and heartache snapped her in two.

  CHAPTER 23

  From the truck window, Cassie watched Izzy’s father standing at the foot of the grave, his umbrella closed at his side. A mix of heavy rain and hail the size of walnuts poured out of the sky, drenching him.

  She sunk deeper into the cool leather of Sam’s truck. It had been only a week since the officers discovered Izzy’s body at Heron Park, yet the only evidence of the snowstorm were the shrinking drifts left behind by the plows.

  The suspect list was growing smaller by the day, but they still had a long way to go. Everything seemed so hopeless.

  Her black pantsuit and long wool coat did nothing to quell her shivering. Her body trembled, but not from the weather. It was the realization that her best friend and partner was gone forever.

  Sam squeezed her knee. “Should we wait for her father to leave?”

  Izzy’s brother came up beside his father and put an arm around him. “No, he’s going to be a while. I just want to go home.”

  They followed after the lines of cars leaving the graveyard. Cassie hadn’t expected her dad to go with them, but she wished he had. She shook her head, trying to let go of the anger creeping into her. He hadn’t even gone to his own wife’s funeral. What made her think he would go to Izzy’s?

  Sam’s hand brushed across her cheek. “You doing okay?”

  “Well as I could, I guess.”

  “You were strong today. Mr. Betz wouldn’t have made it without you.”

  Cassie choked back a sob. Izzy’s dad had fallen to his knees at her coffin more times than she could count. The rest of the family had sat in shocked silence. The mother in a drugged stupor. She probably wouldn’t even remember her only daughter’s funeral. Maybe that was a good thing. Cassie would give anything to block out the past week.

  They drove the forty-five minutes home in silence. Izzy’s pale body riddled with bite marks, screaming for Cassie to save her, playing over in Cassie’s mind. Sam grabbed her hand and she held on to it. He was her rock. What would she do without him?

  She took a deep breath as he parked in front of her house. Her father flung the door open, his eyes glassy and red.

  He’d known Izzy for over ten years, used to joke she was his second daughter. Until he tried to teach her to fish. After fifteen minutes on the boat she’d turned green, then puked when he tried to show her how to dislodge a hook from a fish’s mouth. “Maybe not my daughter,” he’d said to her, “but I love you anyway, kiddo. Now make sure you aim that puke off the deck.”

  Cassie didn’t want to be mad at her father for not being there. He couldn’t handle death. Still, a knot of anger built in her stomach. She needed some time to herself. This was one day she wished her family would just leave her be. Without a word she walked past her dad’s outstretched arms, went to her bedroom and slammed the door.

  She stared at her unmade bed. Piles of clothes were strewn around the room. Hank told her to take today and tomorrow off, that Rick would cover the interviews from their suspect list. How did he expect her to sit around and do nothing? Moping around and mourning her partner wouldn’t bring them any closer to the killer. She picked up a shirt she’d worn a few days ago from the floor and tossed it into the hamper. Screw this. She needed to get some air.

  ~~~

  Rick pulled in front of the diner on his way back from Izzy’s funeral. He had tried to study every face at the church and burial, knowing one of them could be their killer. It’d been tough though. There’d been hundreds paying their respects.

  Groups of people weeping, groups smiling and pointing at the photos Izzy’s family had set up. Still others who could only stare at the floor. He’d been looking for something across every male face that would be out of the ordinary. A look of triumph, a smile of satisfaction.

  He’d moved closer as he saw lines of people paying their respects to Cassie. If their killer was there he wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to get close to her. Again though, there were so many.

  Hank had people taking photos of the people at the burial, but Rick didn’t think they’d get much from that. It’d poured, and almost everyone had hats or umbrellas covering them.

  Rick walked into the diner, his frustration easing a bit. He’d hit some luck at Peggy’s diner. People clad in black filled the place beyond capacity. Maybe he’d find something here.

  He plopped down on the only open seat at the counter. He ordered coffee from Peggy’s widower, Jim, and listened in on all the conversations. Everyone spoke in low murmurs, which didn’t help him any.

  A young woman stepped up next to Rick with a large painting gripped between her gloved fingers. She handed it to Jim. He propped the oil painting of Peggy on the wall, behind the bar. He thanked the young lady with a bear hug and disappeared back into the kitchen, wiping his face on the edge of his white apron.

  Wisps of steam from Rick’s mug drifted in the air. Did a copycat kill Peggy? The ME had said that a dog had definitely done the damage to Peggy’s throat, but it had been a smaller one. The bite radius didn’t match the other victims’ injuries. Did they have two killers lurking the Island?

  He’d pretty much crossed out the idea that their guy could’ve pulled off planting both bodies. The ME thought Peggy was killed only an hour or two before they found her, which would’ve been about the time that their guy was dropping Izzy off at the park. He couldn’t have done both.

  Rick tapped his fingers on the counter. The guy had to of taken on a student, an accomplice. How would a copycat know the officers on the beach wouldn’t be doing their normal patrol because they were busy dealing with another body? It didn’t make sense.

  Peggy’s killer knew nobody would be around to catch him. It was a plan their guy could easily have come up with. But why let someone do half the dirty work? Or have half the fun as Rick imagined a killer might compare it to. And why now? Why Peggy?

  Their guy wouldn’t work with someone he didn’t have some trust in. He wouldn’t be that stupid. Bringing someone else in could get him caught. If it was a partner it had to be a family member. A friend.

  The black ring of coffee in Rick’s mug reminded him of the gaping black holes in Peggy’s face. If it was a copycat the guy had
n’t done a very good job, taking the eyes instead of the head. The smaller bite radius on Peggy made him think Cassie could’ve been correct. Maybe their guy had more than one dog. He could have a whole kennel of them somewhere.

  Peggy had been outside shoveling the back patio the day she disappeared. Nobody had seen where she’d gone.

  From what he heard, Peggy had been a gossip, but she hadn’t mentioned anything to her husband. Jim swore she always told him everything first before anyone else. Nothing stood out to the man as being something to kill over. Then again, people got killed over asinine things everyday.

  The hair on the back of Rick’s neck stood up and a chill swept over his skin. What the hell? He took a swig of his coffee and swiveled around in the direction of a corner booth.

  Gary White sat alone, his gaze steady on Rick. His eyes darted back down to the menu when he realized he’d been caught. Hank had questioned Gary about the accident he had the night Izzy was taken. He said the man was nervous during the interview, but stuck to his story about it happening so fast he hadn’t seen a thing. They’d kept him near the top of their suspect list, but needed to do more digging. He had alibis for the nights of all the murders, but they hadn’t talked to him about Peggy’s murder yet.

  “Gary,” a petite waitress said with a smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen you pick up a menu since I started working here five years ago.”

  “Yeah, wanted to try something new.” He gave a scant glance at Rick. “I’ll have a BLT and a coke.”

  Rick turned back to the counter. If he remembered right, Gary owned an assistant dog center. Hank and Phil had taken a tour of the place. Everything had seemed legit. Had Gary lived on the Island his whole life? Rick finished off his coffee and paid the tab. He and Gary needed to have a chat.

  He took a step and stopped. The corner booth sat empty. The waitress walked toward Gary’s table with his drink. She looked around in confusion, shrugged and headed back to the kitchen.

  Rick strode outside, narrowing his eyes against the cold afternoon. People and cars lined the curb, but he didn’t see Gary anywhere. Where the hell did he rush off to? He punched numbers into his cell and moved down the alley to check the lot in the back.

  A car filled every parking spot and a row of vehicles rolled through the exit. Two women hustled from their car to the back entrance of the diner.

  “Hernandez,” Hank answered his phone.

  “Hey, it’s Rick. Is Gary White on the list of people who moved here?”

  “Um.” Papers shuffled through the speaker. “Yeah, he’s from Bayhead, New York. He’s scheduled to come in at 2:00 on Wednesday. Why? What’s going on?”

  “Just saw him at the diner. Got a weird vibe from him. Mind if I talk to him sooner?”

  “Not at all. Want me to come with you?”

  “No. That’s all right. What kind of car does he drive?”

  “A red pickup.”

  “Thanks. I’ll call you in a bit.” Rick hung up and rushed to his car. He hopped in. His windshield was already frosted over. He gave it a few seconds to warm up and was about to floor it when someone tapped on the passenger side window.

  He opened it and Cassie leaned in. “What’s your hurry?”

  “I need to have a chat with Gary White.”

  Cassie blinked. Her eyes red-rimmed, but her face stony. “Why?”

  “Just have a hunch.”

  She opened the door and climbed in.

  “No way.” He frowned. “You’re supposed to be taking the day off, at home with your family. Hank’s orders.”

  “I was but they were driving me nuts. I decided to take the dog for a walk around town to get some air.”

  “Where’s the dog?”

  She grinned. “I forgot her at the house.”

  “Wait, you walked here? That’s like ten miles!” Rick’s blood pressure teetered to boiling. What the hell was she thinking walking around alone? Sam wouldn’t leave her side for a second at the funeral, but he lets her go wandering around town?

  “No. My car’s down the street. Stop trying to change the subject.” She glared at him. “I’m coming with you whether you like it or not. You’re the one who said nobody, male or female, should go on any leads by themselves. Plus, I saw Gary’s truck headed for Southern State just a few minutes ago. He’s probably headed to his training center and you’ve never been there.”

  Rick scrubbed a hand over his face as she slammed the door and pulled the seatbelt across her chest. If he didn’t bring her, she’d probably just follow him anyway. “Fine.” He hit his blinker and pulled away from the curb.

  ~~~

  Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to Gary White’s Assistance Dog Center. The neighborhood was a mixture of industrial buildings and shopping stores. Most people Cassie talked to about the center thought the location was a strange choice. In reality, all the noise, cars and people, readied the dogs to face anything.

  Gary had a little under two acres of land. Cassie knew the place well. She’d done volunteer work over the years. He had twenty-five runs in the three thousand foot converted warehouse.

  They parked and stepped out of the car.

  David White marched down the steps, his hands fisted at his sides. He yelled over his shoulder. “I want answers, Dad. By tomorrow you better have them for me.”

  Cassie glanced at Rick over the roof of the car. “What the hell is this all about?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s see if we can find out.”

  Gary White stared after his son, shoulders heaving. Dave got in his patrol car and skidded out of the lot.

  Cassie and Rick slammed their doors in unison. Gary’s gaze darted to them. He took a step back, glancing around, looking like he wanted to run for it.

  Cassie waved at him as they neared. “Hey, Gary. Is everything okay?”

  “Hi Cassie.” A nervous smile spread across his face. He nodded at Rick. “Um, you know, girlfriend problems. To be young again.”

  “I saw you at the diner a bit ago,” Rick said. “You rushed out pretty quick.”

  “Um, yeah.” Gary scratched his head. “My son said it was an emergency. What are you guys doing here? I don’t have an appointment until Wednesday.”

  Cassie smiled at him. “I know. We were in the area, just have a few quick questions for you.”

  “Um, don’t have much time. I have a kid coming to pick up a dog in forty-five minutes. Still need to get the paperwork squared away.”

  “This won’t take long.” Rick pointed into the center. “Mind if we come in? It’s a bit chilly out here.”

  He opened the door and gestured them in. “Sure, sure.”

  Cassie grinned as Rick’s eyes widened as he took in the organized space inside the center. There were partitioned areas with different stations for training. A paved street ran through the center of the building. Curbs, street signs, and even an obstacle course. The course consisted of garbage cans, shopping carts, working streetlights, crossing lights and other things you’d run into on any normal day on the town.

  “Mr. White, I know you’re short on time, so just a few things,” Rick said.

  Gary crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. “Shoot.”

  “You moved here from Bayhead, in upstate New York.”

  He coughed. “Um, yeah. About thirteen or fourteen years ago.”

  “How exactly did you get started in all of this?” Rick spread his arms. “And why did you pick Long Island?”

  Gary’s face paled, his words came out rushed. “My family raised dogs from before I was born. Lots of people in that area did. Big hunting town, people came from all over to try their hand at snaring some sort of trophy. A lot of locals had dogs they’d rent out to people.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Cassie said. “What type of dogs did you breed?”

  “Mostly labs. Which led me to what I do today with the foundation. Labradors are great dogs, can be hyper, but with the proper – ”

 
; “You said mostly.” Rick cut him off. “What else did you breed?”

  “Oh… ah, Jack Russell terriers. Lots of barns and horses in the area. So, of course, there were lot of rats and mice as well. People had cats, but they weren’t able to kill off an infestation in a day like our dogs were. They were great at fox and raccoon hunting too.”

  “And why did you choose to come to Long Island, Mr. White?”

  He peered at the wall clock, rubbing his hands on the denim of his jeans. Sweat peeked at his hairline. He shifted from one foot to the other.

  Cassie cocked her head. What was up with him?

  “Mr. White?” Rick said. “Why did you decide to come to Long Island?”

  “A neighbor gave me the idea, introduced me to someone who donated enough money to get me started. I have clients in the city and out of state, so I came to Long Island cause it’s close to everything. Lot’s of airports and stuff. Some of the regular hunters were from around here. They talked it up a great deal, so I decided to give it a shot.” He glanced at the clock again.

  “Think you could get together a list of those names?” Rick asked.

  Gary wiped at the corner of his lip. “What names?”

  “The neighbor, the donor, any of the hunters’ names you remember.”

  His shoulders tensed. “What do you need those for? Are you charging me with something?”

  Rick put his hands up. “Not at all. We just want to close up any holes so we won’t have to drop in on you again like this. You’re obviously a busy man.” He stared him down. “Unless there’s something else you’d like to tell us.”

  Gary clenched his teeth, grinding them together. “Nope, nothing. I’ll get you the names, might take a few days though. Now if there’s nothing else, I have to get the dog ready for his new owner.”

  “There is one more thing,” Cassie said. Something was definitely up with this guy. “Where were you the night Peggy was killed? Last Monday?”

  Sweat trailed down Gary’s neck and his face blushed. “I was here, working with my dogs.”