The Sins of the Mother (Miller & Stevens Book 1)

by Scott Pratt

  He surveyed the scene. Why hookers? And in two different cities. A black woman and three white women had been killed, so race didn’t jump out as a motivating factor. What about the times? It was clear that the killer was accelerating or escalating. There didn’t seem to be any significance in the locations where the bodies were found. Manner of death was inconsistent. The condition of the bodies, the mutilations, and the sexual assaults also tended to confirm his suspicion that the killer was escalating. He was enjoying it now.

  Lukas’s thoughts turned to Gabriele. Another problem. Just what he needed. She was clearly upset with him for not calling to inform her that he wouldn’t be able to make their date. He’d just flat-out forgotten with all that had gone on. He’d learned that Gabriele was quick to anger. He’d have to make his oversight up to her once this nightmare was over.

  Lukas returned to the station and switched off his computer. He tidied up his desk before leaving. Tomorrow he would start completing the case notes on the new victim’s murder and comparing them to those from the others now that he had Brooke’s notes.

  When he finally made it home it was just after three in the morning. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be sleeping well.

  Chapter Six

  He was right. The night’s events wouldn’t let him rest. His own mind was his worst enemy, as always seemed to be the case.

  He slept for maybe two hours, awoke early, showered, shaved, and dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a black polo shirt with the Johnson City Police Department badge stitched into the left side at chest level. He ate a quick breakfast of eggs and bacon, strapped on his Sig Sauer Legion 229 semi-automatic pistol chambered in 9mm, and clipped his badge on his belt. He picked up his keys on the way out the door and headed for the library.

  On his way, he put in a call to Gabriele. It rang once and went to voicemail, so he left a message telling her again that he was sorry and giving her a brief synopsis of the new murder. Maybe that would appease her.

  He was relieved to find the library was open because he had feared it might be closed due to the murder the previous night. He strolled quickly up the concourse towards the front entrance until he was cut off by a news reporter named Sarah Anderson.

  Lukas and Anderson didn’t get along, and it was more than the normal friction in a cop-reporter relationship. Lukas didn’t doubt that Anderson felt jilted. She’d made it clear that she was interested in him during a law enforcement and media cooperative banquet that was put on by the Chief of Police last summer, but Lukas hadn’t reciprocated. She was a semi-attractive redhead, but he flat refused to get involved with a reporter. Anderson was new to the area, and she may have just been trying to make a contact inside the department to further her career. It didn’t matter to Lukas. He didn’t want anything to do with her.

  She stepped directly into his path and planted herself and her microphone under his nose. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to talk about the murder we had here last night, would you? Rumor has it you’re the lead detective on the case.”

  “You know how rumors are, Sarah, especially since you specialize in them.” He sidestepped her, and she hurried to get in front of him again.

  “Don’t be an ass, Miller. I’m just trying to do my job.”

  “Me, too, and part of my job is directing you to our public relations officer. I don’t comment on ongoing investigations. You know that.”

  Lukas pushed on past, leaving her scowling after him, and entered the library. He quickly found the manager at the front desk and asked to see the previous night’s security video. Lukas was taken to a control room in the rear of the building where the cameras were operated. The manager, with Lukas’s help, found the footage from the times Lukas requested. The images were relatively clear, but there was a problem with the front camera. It only covered a partial view of the front part of the concourse.

  The manager returned to the floor and left him alone in the room. Lukas watched the footage for thirty minutes or so before he found something of interest. At 9:05 p.m., the camera on the west side of the building caught a brief flash that looked like the headlights of a car. Then the lights went off.

  Lukas kept watching. Something told him this was the guy who staged the scene. Three minutes later, a hooded figure came into view on the front camera for a brief second. He was carrying something over his shoulder and disappeared in the general direction the body was found. At 9:15 p.m., the same figure was running back toward the left side of the building. Seconds later, headlights appeared and then disappeared. Because of the distance from the camera to the mysterious figure, there was no way to make an identification. The only thing he could determine was that it appeared to be a man of average height and weight. The man’s clothing was likewise indistinct. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt pulled low over his forehead, and he appeared to be wearing jeans. Not much to go on, but maybe the department’s computer geeks could clean it up to reveal more details. They were experts at working with digital files. Lukas found the library manager and had him burn the footage to a DVD as evidence before he left for headquarters.

  On the drive back, he made a quick call to Odessa McCabe.

  She answered with a tired hello.

  “Hey, it’s Lukas.”

  “Don’t you ever sleep?” she said.

  “Not so much lately. What have you found?”

  “I don’t have an identity. I’m waiting on you for that. But strangulation was the cause of death, just as we thought. The rope was post-mortem like we thought, too. The wounds in the genital area were post-mortem and cruel, and I think, but can’t be sure, she was raped with something. We found small splinters of wood in her vagina, but the stab wounds were so severe it’s hard to make a definitive call on exactly what happened. Whoever did this is one angry, psychotic individual. I guess you’ve already figured that out, but if this is one guy, he’s growing more desperate. It’s taking more to satisfy his lust and his anger. He’s torturing them now. I’ve shared files with the ME’s office in Kingsport, and we both feel the murders are connected. We think it’s the work of a single killer based on the facts that all the victims were prostitutes, the timeframe and the MO. Is that what you’re seeing?”

  “We’ve gone over all four murders, and the evidence leads us to believe it is. The times between the murders are lessening, and the wound patterns are becoming more disturbing. I mean, if this were New York or Chicago, I might buy a multiple-person theory, or at least give it some more consideration. But here in Johnson City, nothing else adds up. Anyway, thanks for putting a rush on this, Odessa. I need to get her identified as soon as possible.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. Bye.” Lukas ended the call just as he arrived back at headquarters.

  He parked his Crown Victoria in the back lot and walked the short distance into the rear of the building that led directly to the detective’s squad room. It was Saturday, and the room was deserted. He put on a half-pot of coffee, sat down at his desk, and began making entries on the case notes log and looking through the crime scene photos and evidence receipts. It was much the same as the others. Nothing. Next, he pulled mugshots from known prostitutes and began comparing them with the victim. After an hour, he found her. Mary Tenner. He shot Brooke a quick text: “Identified the vic, going to notify next of kin. Let you know how it goes.” He wrote down the last known address, picked up the mugshot, and left the station.

  As Lukas pulled up to the address he had written down, he noticed the house was in disrepair. The shutters seemed to be hanging on by sheer willpower, and the screen door was torn in several places. He walked up the chipped and cracked concrete steps to a partially rotted front porch and knocked on the door. He could hear what sounded like a small dog barking and then the voices of young children. He saw a dirty, ripped curtain being pulled back before a frail, elderly woman cautiously opened the door. Lukas could see the worry
in the woman’s eyes.

  “Mrs. Tenner?”

  “No, I’m Mildred Connors. What’s wrong, sir?”

  “Mrs. Connors, I’m Detective Miller from the police department. Is this your daughter?” He handed her the picture.

  “Yes, that’s Mary.” Her eyes began to water. She knew.

  He cleared his throat. This part of the job was never easy. “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he said, but his voice was drowned out as the woman began crying loudly. She stood in the doorway, her frail body shaking as she continued to sob.

  Lukas heard tiny voices in the background. “What’s wong, gwanny?”

  He reached out for the woman and she fell into his arms. He hugged her, knowing it offered little comfort.

  “We heard about a woman on the news, and I prayed it wasn’t her,” Mrs. Connors said between sobs. “I told her to stay here. I begged her to. What am I supposed to do with these little ones?”

  By now, the two children had joined in the wailing, making the scene even more tragic.

  “We’ll see that you get some help, Mrs. Connors. I’ll have some people come over later today and discuss some of the programs we have available. Are these two young ones her children?”

  “Yes, her twins. Just turned three.” The woman’s tears started up again.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Do you know what happened to her? How it happened?”

  Lukas didn’t have the heart to tell her all he knew, and she didn’t need to know anyway. “We don’t know anything definite at this point, but we’re doing all we can to find out exactly what happened. I know this may not be the best time, but if I could ask you a few questions, it may help with the investigation.”

  “I’ll tell you what I know.”

  Lukas took out his note pad and pen. “When did you see her last?”

  “Let’s see. I think it was about 6:30 last night. She hadn’t been out in a few days after hearing about that other girl. I tried to stop her.”

  “Did she know the other victim?”

  “She did, but I’m not sure how close they were. I guess you could say they were competitors.”

  “What about the men she saw? Did you know any of them?”

  “No. I didn’t approve of what she did. I mean, it made ends meet and all, but I’d tried to get her out of that life for a long time. She was very secretive about who she worked with.”

  “Did she carry much money with her?”

  “Mary didn’t have much money to carry.”

  “Did she say where she was going or who she was meeting when she left last night?”

  “Like I said, she didn’t discuss it with me. She just told me to watch the kids because she was going out for a while. Then she left.”

  “Okay, Ms. Connors. If you think of anything that may help, or if there is anything you need, give me a call at this number.” He handed her his card.

  “Thank you. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” The hand holding his card trembled. “I don’t know…”

  “We’ll do everything we can to help you. Someone will be in touch soon.”

  He hated to leave, but the woman turned, clutching the children to her, and shut the door. He’d send someone over from the Department of Human Services immediately.

  Lukas walked back to his Crown Victoria, clenching his teeth. The empathy he felt for the woman and the two small children had quickly turned to scorn for whomever was responsible for the killings. It was one thing when drug dealers or gang members shot each other to pieces. That was a risk they took. It was part of the game they played. But when kids started being orphaned because young women were being slaughtered, no matter what their occupation, things ramped up a notch. He had to put a stop to these murders. There was no failing, no letting up.

  Back at the station, he phoned the police chaplain and victim coordinator and relayed the information about the death notification and the address, along with the condition of the house and the fact that the woman had the victim’s children. They would reach out to Human Services, and the well-intentioned but inefficient and top-heavy bureaucracy would attempt to help.

  Lukas drove to the big box home improvement stores and mom and pop hardware stores to see if he could match the rope that was found outside the library. He’d taken several photos of it to use for comparison. Color, material, gauge, and how it was put together were all things he was looking for. He stood in the aisle of Gentry’s Hardware looking at a possible match. The color was the same, as was the size, but the material looked to be different. There was no telling how old the rope was that the killer used, which could account for the difference in appearance.

  He found the manager and asked him about the rope while showing him the photographs he had taken. He was told that they had only recently started carrying that particular type of rope, and his records showed the only sale had been to a local Boy Scout troop. They’d bought 25 feet of it. Lukas made notes and left the store.

  When Lukas arrived back at headquarters, he got all four murder files out. The two he was working and the two in Kingsport. Poring over them seemed his best option right now. There had to be something. He felt it. Something was here among this pile of nothing: a code, a sign, a message, something.

  He dived in, starting with the manner of death. Strangulation, blunt force trauma, stabbing. There was no consistency. He’d been taught that most serial killers stuck to a common method once it proved effective. This maniac was breaking the rules.

  Killing the women no longer seemed to be enough. He’d moved on to torture. And hopefully, that meant he’d make a mistake sooner or later. Lukas couldn’t accept that, however. A mistake would be great, but at what price? Another dead woman? He continued scanning the files.

  Where were the bodies found? The first was in a dumpster, the second at the city landfill. Maybe that was a sign. They’re trash, garbage? But the third was at an abortion clinic, the fourth at the library. No pattern there.

  He retrieved the photos from the two crime scenes Brooke was working. It was the first time he’d had the chance to look at them. They were excellent. He wasn’t sure if Brooke had taken them or if they’d been taken by the crime scene unit from Kingsport. Still, nothing jumped out and screamed, “Here! I’m what you’re looking for!” Next, he laid them out side-by-side and started looking at them out of order. Again, nothing.

  He was gathering the pictures when his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen. It was Gabriele. He hit the accept button.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi, I’m on break. I got your message.”

  “I’m sorry about last night. I couldn’t get away.”

  “Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

  “Come on, Gabby. That’s not fair.”

  “And neither is standing me up without even a phone call or a text.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have called. But there was nothing I could do.” A long, awkward pause ensued.

  She sighed. “I saw you on the news. Sorry to hear you caught another murder.”

  Lukas wasn’t really listening. He was looking at the photographs of the latest crime scene.

  “I’ll call you back,” he said suddenly. He didn’t wait for her goodbye; he ended the call and picked up the photo that caught his eye. The photograph didn’t draw his attention because of the victim. He’d looked at those so many times he knew them by heart. The importance was what was behind it. It was the pro-choice rally poster. He hurriedly looked at Stevens’s case file on the second murder in Kingsport. The body was found at an abortion clinic. He sat back, thinking. The third body was found at an abortion clinic and the fourth was in plain view of a pro-choice rally advertisement. Was he against abortion? Had his victims obtained abortions? Was that why he was killing them? Did they need to check out employees at the abortion clinic? They’d be t
he ones who would know of women who’d had abortions.

  He placed a quick call to Brooke. Maybe he should bounce it off her to see what she thought. The call went to voicemail, so he left a message for her to call him. He tidied up the files and left for home and some much-needed rest.

  Chapter Seven

  Brooke walked slowly behind the cadets as she slipped on her department-issued ear protection and adjusted her shooting glasses. She watched the cadets for safety issues and made corrections to any serious defects she noticed in their form.

  Some had pretty good form, others required attention. Through her hearing protection, she heard the muffled commands of the range master. “Ready on the left! Ready on the right! The line is ready! Fire!”

  A steady stream of staccato shots began as the targets turned to face the cadets. The “cadets” were members of the Citizen’s Police Academy, a program where community members were selected to attend and receive a small taste of what police work was like.

  After the firearms qualification was over, the cadets returned to the classroom where Brooke gave an hour-long block of instruction on basic crime scene investigation and evidence collection techniques. Following her presentation, she held a question and answer session. A woman in the back of the room whose nameplate identified her as Molly Richards was the first to raise her hand.

  “Yes, Molly.”

  “I hear a lot in the news about computer forensics. Does the KPD have a team that specializes in this area?”

  “All of our detectives have a certain amount of training. To be honest, it’s kind of new to us here. The FBI has been doing it for a few years, and they’ve been willing to help us with any cases that require specialized equipment. But as the technology grows, there will be an increased need, so programs are being designed for additional training.”