“Right now, we’re waiting for the lab reports to see if he left us anything to remember him by. At first glance, I’d say he was very careful not to leave any trace, but the lab techs will let us know if he slipped up there. In the meantime, we’re looking for other missing persons reports…”
“So you do think there are more victims,” Rosalie noted with some satisfaction. “Are you going to call in the FBI?”
Warren Daley sighed heavily. “No one said anything about there being more victims. But we did feel it would be prudent to check back and see if there were other missing women who hadn’t turned up…”
“Over how many years?” Jenna asked. “How many years are you going back?”
“We haven’t put a limit on it,” Daley told them. “And no, so far, we haven’t found any. It was just an idea.”
“How about the FBI?” Rosalie repeated. “Are you going to call them in?”
“At this point I see no reason to do that.”
“But isn’t your department connected to the FBI’s VICAP database?”
“Not yet.”
“But it’s free, isn’t it?”
“Last time we looked into it, our computer guy told us we didn’t have the right software to support it. And at this time, I’ve got nothing further to say,” Daley told the group. “The investigation is just beginning, so I’ll end this with a promise to keep you up to date when we have something to report. Thanks for coming.”
Several of the reporters continued to ask questions as Chief Daley made his way from the room. The visiting police chiefs chatted briefly before heading to the parking lots and their cars. Beck had just unlocked his vehicle when he saw Rosalie Ahern walking across the parking lot.
“Chief Beck,” she called to him.
He opened the car door and leaned on it, watching her approach.
“I was just about to ask before Chief Daley pulled the plug.” She was slightly out of breath as she came toward him. “Have you ever seen a case like this one, where the killer did something like that to his victim?”
“No.” He shook his head side to side. “Never saw anything like it.”
“Why do you think he did that?” She was squinting, looking into the sun, fumbling in her bag for her sunglasses. “What’s your gut tell you about this guy?”
Beck paused. He wasn’t about to tell this young reporter, so eager to cover what was most likely her first really big story, what his gut was saying about Colleen Preston’s killer.
“My gut’s not into speculation.”
“Well, do you really think this was a random killing? Or do you think he’s going to strike again?”
“Rosalie, I honestly don’t know. This guy could be anyone, he could be anywhere. We just don’t know.” He got into his car and put his seat belt on. “The truth is, we know squat, and until we have something to go on, as Chief Daley said, it’s irresponsible to speculate.”
“Do you agree with Chief Daley’s decision not to contact the FBI to look for similar cases?”
“It’s Chief Daley’s case,” Beck said diplomatically. “It’s his call.”
“I’m getting the feeling it wouldn’t be your call.”
“It doesn’t matter what I’d do. It’s not my case. I’ll help out in any way I can, I’ll put on extra patrols until this guy is caught. I’ll walk the streets myself if I have to. But I won’t second-guess Warren Daley and I won’t presume to tell him how to do his job. Maybe you shouldn’t, either.”
“Is St. Dennis looped into the VICAP system that Carl was talking about?”
“Yes.”
“You could probably look for similar crimes on your own, then, even if Chief Daley didn’t.”
“I don’t like the critical tone of your voice. You have no idea what it’s like to deal with the budget in a small town.”
“But I thought VICAP was a free service-”
“The upgraded computers aren’t.”
He slammed the car door and rolled down the window.
“Chief, one more thing.” Rosalie stepped closer to the car as he turned the key in the ignition. “Where do you think Mindy Kenneher is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think there were others? Before Colleen Preston? Do you think any other bodies will turn up, wrapped up like that?”
“I wish I knew…” Beck waved as he pulled out of the parking space and headed for St. Dennis.
“…so if anyone believes the disappearance of Mindy Kenneher and the disappearance and murder of Colleen Preston are related, they’re not saying.” Rosalie Ahern was speaking directly into the camera. “When I asked the chief of police in nearby St. Dennis, Gabriel Beck, if he thought there were other victims before Colleen Preston, all he said was that he wished he knew.”
“Any plans to bring in the FBI at this point? Isn’t that standard when there’s an abduction?” The anchor, back in the studio, asked Rosalie, who was reporting from outside the Ballard police department.
Rosalie Ahern was nodding her head. “I asked Chief Daley about the FBI, and he pretty much shot that down. But it was interesting, later in the parking lot, when I spoke with Chief Beck, I asked him if he’d call in the FBI if he were running the investigation, and he gave me the impression that he would. And by the way, they’re not calling Mindy Kenneher’s disappearance an abduction at this point, they’re still just calling it a disappearance.”
“Okay, well, thanks for the report, Rosalie…” The anchor turned to another camera. “In other news…”
The theme for Chesapeake News at Noon came on a few minutes later as the screen faded to a commercial.
The man watching the broadcast from the privacy of his office smiled as he removed the tape from the old VCR and unlocked the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet closest to his desk. He dropped the tape into what he referred to as his archives and relocked the drawer.
The press conference-What a misnomer that was! A few newspapers and one local TV station showed up!-had tickled him no end. It had really given him a kick to see them all scratching their heads and being so noncommittal. So afraid of saying something that would upset the locals. As if they’re not all shaking in their shoes, scared to death the next victim will be in their town, making him their problem.
Toying with them all could be almost as much fun as his little girlfriends were.
Which reminded him, he had a little cleanup to do this morning. There was a little problem of disposal he needed to work out.
The solution came to him in a flash, and he laughed out loud.
So Gabriel Beck wishes he knew if there’d been others like sweet Colleen, does he?
He stared out the window, and smiled when he saw the police cruiser pass by.
It was time Beck learned to be careful what he wished for.
6
“I should have said ‘no comment,’” Warren Daley said for the third time since Beck picked up the phone. “I never should have let a reporter catch me off guard like that. God damn it, I could just kick myself for getting suckered into that. No way I should have let on about that girl being wrapped up. Just fuels the crazies, far as I’m concerned. Christ, I can’t think faster on my feet than that, maybe I should just do what my wife keeps nagging me to do and retire. Maybe it’s time.”
“You had no way of knowing someone would have passed all the gory details on to the press,” Beck replied. “Hey, it happens.”
“Yeah, and when I get my hands on the son of a bitch who opened his mouth, I’m going to have his ass nailed to my office wall so I can use it for target practice.”
“Who do you think slipped up?”
“I doubt it was a slip. Probably someone hoping to make a little time with Ahern.”
“Could be.” Beck glanced at his watch. “Sorry I’m going to have to cut this call short. I have a meeting with the mayor and a couple of council members at eight. Second time in two days I’ve been summoned over to Pratt’s office, which is a record. Eve
ryone in town who saw the news is up in arms over this case.”
“Tell me about it. Same here in Ballard. At least you don’t have a body.”
“Thank God for small favors.”
“Look, I’m sorry to have called so early in the morning. I figured you’d be up…shit, I don’t know what I was thinking,” Daley said.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. Anytime.” Beck downed a mouthful of coffee. “Gotta run…”
Beck finished off his coffee, his focus on the meeting. He knew the council members were going to grill him about the case in Ballard. What are the chances this guy is going to kill again, and this time in St. Dennis? He’d already heard it from the mayor last night. He heard the panic in her voice, and knew there wasn’t going to be a damned thing he could do to calm people down. In retrospect, Warren Daley’s press conference, such as it was, hadn’t been such a hot idea.
For all his years in law enforcement, Beck’s counterpart in Ballard had never had to deal with anything like what had been done to Colleen Preston. The young woman’s death, and the manner in which she died, had the entire Eastern Shore shaken up from Chestertown straight on down to Easton.
Rightfully so.
He locked up the house and walked the length of the driveway to where he’d parked his Jeep the day before.
Beck sighed and opened the door. As he slid into the seat, something in the back caught his eye. He looked in the rearview mirror, and stared for a moment, until it registered.
“Jesus Christ Almighty…”
He got out of the vehicle, and shielding his eyes from the early morning glare, peered through the tinted glass before backing away as he pulled the phone from his pants pocket.
He hit speed-dial, his eyes still on the window and what lay beyond.
“Hal. I need you. Now. At the house. Call Lisa. And Duncan. Tell him to make sure to bring the evidence kit. And tell Garland to get the ME over here. Now. I need her now.”
He hung up before Hal could ask any questions and opened the back of the Jeep. He got a flashlight and took a pair of clear plastic gloves from a box and pulled them on. As carefully as he could, he opened the left rear door and leaned in.
The body was slightly too long for the bench seat, and so had been left with the legs angled forward. The overhead light automatically came on when the door was opened, and it shed an eerie glow on the plastic encasing the body. There were bubbles of moisture on the outside of the wrappings, and inside the tightly wound plastic was a barely contained mess of fluid. He then went around to the passenger’s side to get a better look at the victim. What he saw was the remains of what had been, not so very long ago, a vibrant young woman.
That she’d sucked furiously for air was evident. The plastic was pulled tightly across her face, indented at the nostrils and the mouth. Through the plastic, Beck could see her eyes seem to bulge, and her mouth was open in a grotesque grin, the head tilted back at a slight angle. Fluids had been trapped within the layers of wrappings, blood and urine and feces and whatever else had been released when her abdomen split as her intestines had swollen, then burst with the inevitable buildup of gases.
“Beck.” Hal called as he approached rapidly from the end of the drive. “What it is?”
Beck turned and walked away from the Jeep.
“I think it’s what’s left of Mindy Kenneher…”
It had taken almost an hour for Viv Reilly to arrive, and when she did, she stood next to Beck’s Jeep shaking her head.
She glanced at Beck, who stood nearby, and said, “I’ll never understand why. I can figure out how, but I cannot understand why.”
Beck had personally processed the scene with Lisa and Duncan’s assistance, but had found no traces. No fingerprints, no hairs, no fibers.
“It’s as if she was transported here in a vacuum,” Lisa told Beck. “There’s nothing on the outside of the vehicle or the door handle, so we can assume that he used gloves, which would account for the lack of prints. But no fibers? Nothing at all on the plastic?”
“I think I know why.” Hal pointed to the grass where the garden hose lay in a careless heap. Water dripped from the spigot attached to the side of the house.
“I haven’t used that hose in weeks,” Beck said as he walked toward it. “ Duncan, bring a trowel and some paper bags over here. Let’s bag up the grass and the top layer of dirt in the areas that are wet. If he hosed down the body, maybe he washed away some evidence.”
He waited until the body was removed from the Jeep under Viv’s direction, then leaned in to examine the backseat more closely. The fabric was such that he could not tell if it was wet without touching it, so he removed a glove and did just that. In the heat overnight, much of the wetness had evaporated, but the seat was still damp.
“You must sleep like the dead, Chief, for someone to come into your yard, turn on your hose, open up your vehicle, put a body inside, then sneak away.” Viv looked over her shoulder as she followed the gurney to her van.
“No dogs in the neighborhood barking last night, Chief?” Lisa asked. “Didn’t hear the doors slamming?”
“I sleep on the opposite side of the house and had the air conditioner on in my room last night. I wouldn’t have heard anything.”
He pointed to the house next door, on the other side of a row of ancient pines.
“You can ask the Dawkins if they heard or saw anything, but it’s unlikely. They’re both in their late eighties and can’t see through the hedge anyway. But maybe someone else on the block heard something during the night, so you and Duncan start going door to door.”
After Lisa and Duncan had gone to check in with the neighbors, and the ME’s van had pulled out of the driveway, Hal turned to Beck and asked, “Did you leave the Jeep unlocked?”
“I must have.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We haven’t had any breakins in so long-cars or homes-I just never really worried about it.”
He tried to remember what was on his mind when he parked the vehicle the day before. He’d gone to the press conference in Ballard, then drove home. He’d parked in the driveway, then saw a neighbor who’d waved and crossed the street to tell him she’d been a friend of the Preston family for over thirty years and how devastated she was to hear about Colleen. Beck had tried to be sympathetic while at the same time avoiding adding any fuel to the fire of panic that he sensed would soon be spreading throughout St. Dennis if it wasn’t checked. He’d received a call from Garland reminding him about his five o’clock appointment, and decided to walk to the station. It had not occurred to him to check to see if he’d locked the Jeep.
“Why do you suppose he did that, left her in your Jeep?” Hal asked.
“His way of giving me the finger, I guess.” Beck stood with his hands in his pockets, watching his Jeep being hooked up to a tow truck. As evidence, it had to be taken down to the station where it would be impounded in the small garage behind the municipal building. “Which makes me think he’s close enough to have watched the local news last night.”
“That’s a start.” Hal nodded. “More than you knew yesterday.”
“And it tells me he’s damned clever. Clever enough to not leave a trace of himself, to wash away anything that might have clung to the plastic.”
“Wonder what he’d have done if the Jeep had been locked?”
Beck pointed to his house. “There’s a porch out front as well as out back. He could have left it at either. If he was determined to leave that package for me, there were plenty of other ways he could have done it.”
“So what are you going to do now?” Hal asked.
“First, I’m going to stop in and see Mayor Pratt. Then, I’m going to do exactly what I told Warren Daley to do. I’m calling the FBI.”
“You sure you want to do that? I’ve worked with some pretty damned annoying agents over the years. And you know, once you open that door and invite them in, they take over, and there’s no getting rid of them. I got stuck one time for two months with the
most obnoxious SOB I’d ever met. Wouldn’t go away until the case was closed.” Hal shook his head, remembering. “Alphonse Edmonds. He was not only obnoxious, he was mean-spirited. And ugly, now that I think about it.”
“All I care about is cleaning up this mess as quickly as possible. This guy has taken me on, and I will use any weapon I can get my hands on to fight him. If the best weapon is the FBI, then fine. Bring it on. I don’t care how obnoxious, mean, or ugly their agents are. I just want this bastard and I want him before he finds another victim.”
Beck paused, then looked at Hal.
“Unless he already has…”
The sun was dipping low in the sky as FBI Special Agent Mia Shields crossed over the Potomac River via the Governor Nice Memorial Bridge, leaving Virginia behind her. Once on the Maryland side, she headed toward Calvert’s Ford, one of the small communities on the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay that, sadly, lacked a true beach.
The tobacco fields were just hitting their growth stride on either side of the two-lane road. The tobacco barns were landmarks she’d come to depend on for finding her turn off the main road. She’d been living in Maryland for almost three months, but had been working a job just over the Potomac for the past four weeks, and was still finding her way around. Once she hit the tobacco farm, though, she knew she was on the right road, and knew there were only two more turns before she’d be home.
Not her home, not exactly, she reminded herself. The small house that sat all by itself in the woods belonged to her cousin, Connor, who was once again out of the country somewhere. No one really knew where, except for his boss at the FBI and the director, and word was that sometimes even Connor’s boss wasn’t sure where or how to find him. Because he’d been gone for so much of the past year, and planned on being back in the States only now and then, Connor had suggested that Mia rent from him instead of renewing the lease on her Arlington apartment.
The complex she’d been living in was crowded and loud. Parties often ran late into the night, even on weekdays, and the parking lot was usually full by the time Mia arrived home from work. While she enjoyed a good party as much as the next person, she also liked a good night’s sleep now and then, so when Connor offered the house, she jumped at the chance.
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