by Brenda Novak
“Not as difficult as it seems.” He reached over and pointed at a close up photo of the hook. “Hard part was probably subduing the victims first. He had to tie their hands and feet. Then once he looped the extension cord around this hook, all he had to do was pull down on it. It’d work like a pulley, yanking the body up.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to kill him first?”
“Maybe that wasn’t a part of his plan.”
“You think he wanted him to suffer?” Maggie asked.
“Hey, I analyze the evidence. You psychoanalyze the killers.”
“There was no forced entry. So he knew them well enough to come on in. But he didn’t know about Katie and her father.” She came to the photographs of the pie. “Usually killers take trophies from their victims. This killer felt it necessary to leave something. And why the spleen? Does the spleen signify anything you can think of?
Ganza shook his head.
“He uses a knife to kill both victims inside the trailer but when he needs to stop Katie’s father he shoots him in the back. So he had gun. Why not just shoot all three of them?”
“Bullets can be traced back to a gun.”
“Could just throw it in the river.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to get rid of his gun.”
Maggie thought about that. “Very few serial killers have used guns. Not personal enough.”
“And this was personal.”
“Personal enough that he wanted Mr. Tanner to feel fear. Why else string him up and hang him from the ceiling?”
“But the female victim wasn’t strung up,” Ganza reminded her.
“No. And we don’t think she was sexually assaulted. Of course we won’t know for sure until Wenhoff’s autopsy.”
“There was something else I thought was very strange,” Ganza said and headed for the refrigerator again.
This time he did pull out the plate with the pie. He put on latex gloves before he opened the bag and slid the gooey mess out onto the counter. Maggie was relieved to find that without the flies it no longer turned her stomach.
“There’s something underneath.” He lifted a corner of the piecrust.
It looked like a slip of paper.
“Is it a note?” she asked.
“I noticed it earlier but didn’t want to take it apart until you were here.”
He grabbed some forceps. Then he lifted the crust and tugged the object out. It looked like a soggy receipt only it was a bit thicker than paper. The print was smeared and there was a signature at the bottom. Ganza held it up with the forceps, gripping it carefully by the corner.
Maggie stared at it, trying to make out the type. Then finally she said, “It looks like a traffic ticket.”
Chapter 17
He watched Loner all night long without the asshole even realizing he was being watched. He enjoyed every twitch the man made as he paced. He could even see the slight throb at his temple as he tried to sit still.
This was where the amateurs were separated from the professionals. And it gave Stucky great to pleasure to witness the meltdown. Guys like Loner had all the balls when it came to the hunt and the kill. The warm blood on their hands made them feel powerful and godlike. Nothing else could compare. Not sex, not money. Nothing else was as powerful as taking the life of another human – to feel that life pour out and watch the light leave their eyes.
Loner liked that feeling of power. He’d seen it in the bastard’s eyes when he stopped Stucky and tried to humiliate him. Wanting to feel powerful – that was something they had in common. But that’s where it stopped.
Loner was an amateur. Oh, he’d probably killed before. This hadn’t been his first time. Stucky suspected Loner had gotten away with much more. But this was the first time he’d screwed up in a major way. And amateurs had no idea what to do when they screwed up.
Had the asshole not pissed Stucky off, had he not humiliated and derided him, maybe Stucky would have taken him under his wing. Taught him a thing or two. Even when he first started trailing Loner he suspected the guy was not just a hothead but rather a volcano that erupted periodically.
In the beginning he was curious what the couple in the trailer had done to ignite Loner. But from personal experience he knew there didn’t need to be much of a reason. From the way he hogtied and hung up the male victim in the guy’s own living room, Stucky figured the guy had disrespected Loner in some way. That would have been enough justification in Loner’s mind.
Stucky had the heard the whispers in the hospital hallways. He had gotten close enough to hear the conversations. No one seemed to notice a janitor with a mop. He was practically invisible. He’d even been inside the little girl’s room to empty the trashcans. In and out, just like that. No questions. Hardly a nod.
So now he knew that Loner had shot a third victim. A man who tried to run away – the little girl’s father. Another major screw up. There were all kinds of ballistic tests they could do on that bullet once they pulled it out. And poor Loner – he couldn’t just throw away that gun. How would he explain to his superiors that he’d lost his service revolver?
What a wonderful mess Loner had gotten himself into. For Stucky it was pure pleasure to watch from the sidelines. But he was becoming bored. He’d had enough and was ready to resume his trip to Florida. There was just one thing he needed to take care of first.
Chapter 18
Cunningham wasn’t answering his phone. Neither was Dr. Patterson.
Maggie was frustrated. Hospital rules. They probably had to have their cell phones shut off. Still, she left another round of messages then she took the ramp to get on the Interstate.
She hoped she was wrong. She hoped it was just a coincidence. Except she didn’t believe in coincidences. And neither did Cunningham. It was one of the first things he had taught her.
Ganza had put the soggy ticket under a microscope. The magnification couldn’t fix the smears but they were able to decode what was left of the print.
The speeding ticket had been issued to Louis Tanner two weeks ago. In the small area available for notes the law enforcement officer had taken time to write: Argumentative.
Maggie thought that was an interesting comment considering how many people probably tried to argue their way out of speeding tickets.
It might not mean anything except for a killer having fun, another sick piece to a puzzle. He could have found Louis’ speeding ticket attached to the kitchen bulletin board or taken it from the counter. Ganza was right – they’d seen stranger things. Except traffic tickets came in duplicate. The violator received a copy and the issuing officer kept a copy. And one of the lines at the bottom that was not smeared identified this as the officer’s copy.
The other part of the ticket that was still readable was the officer’s signature: Warren County Deputy D. Wilson.
Chapter 19
He handed the note to Loner himself. Told him that the unit secretary had taken the phone message and asked him to deliver it since she couldn’t leave her station. The asshole barely glanced at him. Probably wouldn’t have recognized him anyway. His eyes looked bloodshot. His fingernails were chewed down to the quick. It looked like he had changed clothes but they were already wrinkled from hours of sitting. Even his previous hat sat haphazardly on floor next to the folding chair.
Stucky walked away, suppressing a smile. He wished he could have watched the asshole’s face as he read the note, but there were some things you sacrificed for a greater reward.
He found his clothes where he’d left them in the supply closet. He put on scrubs and stuffed his clothes in a laundry bag with the stash of other items. On his nightly rounds he had acquired quite a treasure trove of surgical instruments. It was always good to restock his supply. On his way out he grabbed a towel though he doubted he’d need it.
Again, he walked confidently down the hallways, passing the reception desk, through the lobby and out the front door.
Chapter 20
Maggie was almos
t there when her cell phone rang.
“You know something,” Cunningham said without a greeting.
“Ganza and I found a traffic ticket.” She explained it to him. “It may be a coincidence but --”
“Deputy Wilson is posted outside of Katie’s door right now,” Cunningham interrupted. “Son of a bitch! We left him up there with her.”
“I’m pulling into one of the parking lots now, Sir.”
“Room 233. Approach with caution.” And he clicked off.
She chose the wrong lot. This was one was full and then she saw why. It was the employees lot. She tried to speed around the lanes to get back to the exit. She’d find the front door and just leave her vehicle there. As she took the last turn at the back of the lot she saw a Warren County Sheriff’s cruiser parked. It had to be Wilson’s. But someone was in the front seat.
Instead of exiting the lot, she turned into another lane of parked vehicles and simply stopped where she still had a view from the back of the cruiser. She called Cunningham again and immediately got his voice message.
“Wilson’s cruiser is here in the employee parking lot. I think he’s sitting in it. I’m going to check it out.”
What if he already had taken Katie? Was it possibly he had her in the back of the vehicle?
She stepped out and closed her door as softly as possible. Her fingers reached into her jacket and unsnapped her holster. She took the long way around so she could approach from the back of his vehicle. He looked like he was bent over the steering wheel with his hat pushed low over his forehead. Maybe he was reading something? Or was he on the phone?
At the last minute she realized he might see her in his rearview side mirror. She moved to the right. Slowly she slid the revolver from her holster and held it at her side. Twenty more feet and she’d be at the passenger window. It looked like he still hadn’t lifted his head.
She needed to slow down. Keep low.
Her heart was pounding so hard her chest hurt. Her palms were sweaty.
She wanted to get a peek into the backseat but realized she couldn’t risk it. She remembered Wilson’s cocky attitude. He wouldn’t go quietly. She needed to be prepared. If Katie was in the backseat she might get caught in the exchange. That is if the girl was still alive.
A few more steps. She felt a trickle of sweat slide down her back. A quick glance around showed no one else coming or going. No shift change. He had timed this perfectly. Of course, he had.
She had to do this now before he looked up. Maggie took a couple of measured breaths and rushed the last steps.
“Hands up, Deputy Wilson!” she shouted as she took her stance outside the passenger window, feet spread, arms out with her gun pointed directly at his head.
He didn’t move.
“Deputy Wilson, put your hands where I can see them.”
Nothing.
She stole a quick glance into the back. Nothing on the seat. She couldn’t see if Katie was somewhere on the floor. Or the trunk. She hadn’t thought about the trunk until now.
Wilson still didn’t move. Was this part of his plan? Another clever trick like leaving a spleen on a piece of pie?
She moved slowly around the hood of the cruiser. Hands outstretched. Gun aimed directly at center of his hat because that’s all she could see from the front. The glint of sunlight on the windshield made her tense up. For several precious seconds she couldn’t see him. Still, she didn’t take her eyes off the spot, even tapping her foot to find the curb so she didn’t trip over it.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw something on top of the hood. Something small. Square. White. Another distraction. She ignored it.
She had come all the way around the hood and Deputy Wilson hadn’t moved. Now at his door she grabbed the handle and yanked it open in one quick motion.
She smelled the blood before she saw it. The vehicle reeked with the metallic scent. She kept the gun pointed at him. With her left hand she reached in and pushed at his shoulder then immediately stepped back expecting him to still jump out at her.
But instead she watched his body slide sideways into the passenger’s seat, a slow motion process that was no trick at all. That’s when his hat fell off and his head lobbed back. His throat had been slashed. The front of his shirt was soaked with blood.
Maggie stepped to the back door and pulled it open. No Katie. She tugged the trunk latch and carefully went to check. No signs of the little girl.
Her phone was vibrating in her pocket. She grabbed it but still kept her revolver at her side.
“Katie’s safe.” It was Cunningham. “I got your message. Approach Wilson with caution.”
“I’ve already approached,” she told him. “Wilson’s dead.”
“Excuse me?”
“His throat’s slashed.”
She walked around the vehicle slowly like she still didn’t trust the situation. Then she noticed the object on the hood of the cruiser. It was a foam container. The type used for take-out food. It looked like there was blood running down one side. Her stomach took a dive.
“I’m guessing his throat wasn’t the only thing cut.”
Chapter 21
Twenty-four hours later
Cunningham handpicked the FBI agents that were now assigned to stand watch over Katie. Maggie greeted the new watchman as he checked her badge.
Inside her hospital room Katie was sitting up sucking at the straw of what looked like a chocolate milk shake. Both she and Delaney looked up at Maggie and smiled.
“What did I interrupt?”
“He tells funny stories,” the girl told her and rolled her eyes at Delaney, but she was obviously enjoying his company.
There was another tap at the door and this time Gwen came in. She was wearing a business suit, slacks with modest heels and carrying a briefcase.
“Hi Katie,” she greeted the girl first. “How are you today?”
“Mr. Delaney brought me a chocolate shake.”
They exchanged another smile and Maggie was amazed how quickly the girl had gotten attached to him. They still hadn’t located any relatives. Katie’s mom had died when the girl was three years old. Delaney was working on finding the maternal grandmother. No luck so far. Maggie knew that he and his wife, Karen had offered to take the girl in, until they could track down her grandmother.
Gwen put her briefcase down and clicked it open, still focusing her attention on the girl.
“Katie, do you remember what I told you we were going to do today?”
Suddenly the smile slid off her face and her eyes darted over to Delaney. He scooted the chair closer and put a hand out. She hesitated only a few seconds before she reached out and put hers in his.
She looked up at Gwen and said, “We’re gonna find the bad guy.”
“That’s right. But if you feel sick or scared at any time we’ll stop, okay?”
Katie nodded and sucked on the straw until it made a gurgling sound of more air than shake. She handed over the empty glass and sat up straight.
They were starting to put together some of the puzzle pieces. Ganza had sent off to ballistics the bullet that was removed from the back of Katie’s father. They also were able to provide Deputy Wilson’s service revolver.
Sheriff Geller claimed he and his deputy had not taken more than a step inside the double-wide. They had arrived on the scene together, opened the trailer door, took one whiff along with a brief glance and closed the door again. But the CSU techs had processed fingerprints that had been left on one of the lamps. One of the lamps that the killer had cut the electrical cord off to use as restraints. Those fingerprints matched Deputy Wilson’s.
Gwen pulled out a set of five by seven photographs. Cunningham had asked that Gwen handle this part though he had instructed her how to make her presentation.
She smoothed the blanket out in front of Katie and then one by one she began to lay each photograph down in front of her.
“Try not to think too hard,” Gwen told the girl. “Just
look. This isn’t a test. There’s no wrong or --.”
“That’s him,” Katie said with a tinge of excitement, almost as if she was relieved that this was easier than she thought it would be.
“Are you sure?”
It was Deputy Wilson’s photo. Maggie still wasn’t sure if the girl recognized him as the man who shot her father or if she simply remembered his face from the day they’d found her. Wilson and the sheriff had stayed back the entire time, never leaving the side of the cruiser, but was it possible Katie could have seen him that day? Was that where she was remembering him from?
“Good job,” Delaney said and squeezed her hand.
Gwen was already putting the photos away but she caught Maggie’s eyes, and Maggie could see she was just as skeptical about this. But Cunningham thought it was important.
“I’ll see you later today,” Gwen told the girl and started to leave.
“I’ll be right back,” Maggie said and followed Gwen out the door.
She and Gwen walked side by side down the hallway before either of them spoke. Finally they turned the corner and stopped at the elevators but neither of them pushed the button.
“She might never remember the events of that day,” Gwen said. “She doesn’t even remember walking around the trailer although we know that’s where she got all the blood on the soles of her feet.”
“We can’t protect her forever from this other killer. In the meantime what are we supposed to do?” Maggie asked.
“I suggest you do what you do best, Agent O’Dell. Find him.”
About Alex Kava
ALEX IS A NEW YORK TIMES BEST-SELLING AND AWARD WINNING AUTHOR of psychological suspense novels. Her Maggie O’Dell series has been widely praised by critics and fans. They have appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists.
ON JANUARY 2015, Alex is introducing her fans to Ryder Creed, a retired marine dog handler who will have his own series starting with SILENT CREED.
