What Burns Within

by Sandra Ruttan

  Ashlyn continued checking the employee list against the fitness center’s work schedule. It was all pretty routine, with essentially the same people working the desk in the days prior to the church group’s monthly booking, except for one name that had been scratched off and replaced with a standby person because one of the staff had phoned in sick three days earlier.

  Doug Fisher. Where did she know that name from? She glanced up at Tain, who had partially twisted away from her in his chair, making it hard for her to hear his end of the conversation. Eavesdropping hadn’t been something she’d considered until she saw him taking notes, adding to the book he’d started on the abductions.

  What could Tim Winters have to do with this case? She stared at Tain for a moment, thinking he wasn’t so different than when she had first met him, after all. He could still be a completely closed book. There were times he made Craig look downright sociable by comparison. She turned back to the lists in front of her, trying not to strain to hear what Tain was saying. If he was holding out on her she was going to kick his ass.

  Everything about the room spoke of understated taste. The solid wood bedroom set contrasted with the golden walls. The drapes hung on a pewter rod, but between the gaps in the furniture there was no fancy artwork, no expensive paintings or wall coverings. Just one large picture frame hung above the bed, hosting a collage of images that were presumably memorable moments from the life that had been violently taken only hours before.

  “We’re ready whenever you are,” a man on the coroner’s staff said.

  Craig glanced at him and nodded. “Give us a few minutes. We’ll call you.”

  The few remaining people left without comment.

  “Nitara Sandhu,” Craig said quietly. “Twenty-three years old. Recently married.”

  “He left his stuff behind.” Daly nodded at the bed.

  “Not that it will do us much good. Looks like a generic blindfold and gag. Handkerchiefs like these could likely be purchased in hundreds of places.”

  “Generic rope too.” Daly glanced at Craig. “So why kill her?”

  “The only thing that’s different that I can see is that she’s East Indian.”

  “You thinking there’s an ethnic angle? Why rape her at all then? Why not just pick another white victim?”

  Craig shook his head. “A lot of the Chinese and East Indian families have multiple generations living together. This couple lived on their own in a good neighborhood, much the same as all our other victims.”

  “What are you thinking? That it was a statement that they didn’t belong?”

  “Not really. I’m not sure ethnicity had anything to do with it. This guy, he’s got no type. Not blondes, brunettes or redheads. Some of these women have been short, some tall. The only thing that they all had in common was that they were home alone, with the exception of the baby, when they were raped.”

  “You still have to consider the ethnic angle as a possibility,” Daly said.

  Craig sighed. “I know. I’m not going to dismiss it automatically.”

  “But your gut tells you this is an escalation.”

  “Yes, but something still seems odd. He’s been very deliberate, very controlled before. This time, he left things behind. It doesn’t seem likely that they’ll help us connect to him right now, but this is the beginning of an evidence trail that might help us convict him.”

  “I could see something being left behind if you’ve been interrupted, if you panicked.”

  “But he killed her. Not one of the other victims mentioned him choking them during the rape, so she was likely strangled afterward. You take time to kill someone because you’ve been interrupted but leave evidence at the scene? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  The choking sobs from across the room had finally stopped sometime during the passing hours of darkness. Taylor thought they were well past sunrise now, but she was losing the certainty of conviction she’d had even a day before.

  It had startled her when he’d brought in the other girl. She knew better than to try anything again, so she’d sat pressed up against the wall on the far side of the bed, listening to the scraping metal as another cot was added and the shuffling feet were matched by a long, steady shhhhhh, as though a heavy-bristled broom was being dragged across the floor.

  The stream of light had shone on her for a moment when he’d moved aside, and she’d seen the pale face, the wide eyes, the hard rope gagging the girl’s mouth.

  Bedsprings creaked as the girl was pushed down on the mattress. Taylor saw the gag removed, and then the shuffling feet retreated, taking the light with them as the door clanked shut.

  Then the girl had started to cry.

  And the crying had escalated into screams, until at last the door had opened again, not with a plate of bread and a chalice—he’d taught Taylor that word earlier—of water in hand, but a rod and a rope of some kind. Taylor couldn’t be sure because she could only see the outline in the dark, until she heard the crack of the whip and the responding cry of the figure on the other bed.

  The girl had learned. When the shuffling feet retreated again, she must have pressed herself hard against the bed the way Taylor did whenever her mom gave her a licking and told her to shut her mouth but good or she’d tan her hide again.

  “How much of a window do we need?”

  “At least an hour, maybe more.”

  Ashlyn read the label on the video. “This one was activated at five PM. May as well sit back and scan the whole thing.”

  They watched the images blur by on the screen until the time stamp put the tape at about ten minutes before the church group was due to arrive.

  “Ten to six. If our guy was waiting for them, he should be coming down the hall anytime.”

  They viewed the tape at regular speed. At six past six they could see Luke Driscoll entering the lower right corner of the screen. Within seconds, the rest of the church group was moving into view.

  Ashlyn glanced at Tain. “Should we rewind it and watch it again?”

  Tain grabbed the remote and rewound the tape without comment. Again, they watched as absolutely nobody went down the hall.

  “Not one customer, not a staff person. Nobody.”

  “We may as well watch what happens now. If our theory is wrong, this is as good a time as any to find out.” Ashlyn frowned.

  Tain had a pretty good idea how she felt. Four girls, two dead, and here they were, grasping at straws…. “I’m just hoping there’s something on here that’s useful, Ashlyn. Otherwise we won’t have a working theory or a lead.”

  They watched the group of heads moving up the screen, toward the change rooms.

  “This angle is good for identifying them coming in, but it’s hard to see the kids in the back.”

  “There she is.”

  “Where?”

  “The one our friend Marvin seems so interested in.”

  “Looks like Luke is coaxing Marvin to get a move on,” Tain said.

  “Hello. What was that?”

  Tain rewound the tape back thirty seconds, and they watched again.

  “Is that a uniform of some kind?” Ashlyn asked.

  “Hard to tell. That’s the thing with this angle. It’s great for getting the faces of those coming down to the change rooms. But this guy is moving across the hall, keeping his head down, and Marvin’s a pretty tall kid.”

  “Can you rewind it again?”

  He did, and they watched it again.

  “There, pause it,” Ashlyn said.

  Tain pressed pause and the image froze on the screen.

  “Look at how Lindsay leans forward,” Ashlyn said. “Like he bumped her.”

  “I can’t see where this guy goes.”

  “He looks like he’s moving right into the wall on the opposite side of the hall from the change rooms. What was there?”

  “Nothing. It looks like it might be a dead space for the tape.”

  “Not important to monitor because you don’t expect
people to be creeping up and down the hallway against the far wall.”

  Tain pressed play, and they watched. “Look. Luke just took a slight step forward and glanced over his shoulder, like somebody moved behind him.”

  They continued watching until the hall was empty. Ashlyn leaned forward and tapped the screen.

  “Look at that. Something shiny on the floor. It wasn’t there before.”

  The tape played for another five minutes or so, and then the women’s change room door opened. Lindsay’s head emerged, and she glanced over at the door to the men’s change room. Then she moved farther into the hallway.

  Her eyes were glued to the floor as she let the door fall shut behind her and started walking slowly back toward the entrance.

  “Look. She’s picking it up.”

  Tain rewound the tape a few seconds. “Hell. Look at that, when her ponytail falls over her shoulder.”

  “What am I missing?”

  “She’s not wearing her necklace, the one her parents identified.”

  “The one that was found outside.” Ashlyn swallowed. “That must be the chain there, what she’s picking up.”

  “He’s got the back of his head to the camera now, so we can’t identify him.”

  “So she kneels down to pick up her necklace, and as she stands he grabs her and moves back toward the blind spot along the far wall. God, look how quick that was.” Ashlyn shook her head. “This guy was ready. He knew she was coming into that hall.”

  Tain off shut the tape. “The good news is the theory fits.”

  “He was definitely waiting for her.”

  “But how did he know she was coming back into the hall?”

  Ashlyn reached for her bottled water. “He bumped her. Remember how she leaned forward? Maybe it was deliberate. Maybe he undid the clasp on her chain.”

  “I don’t know, Ashlyn. Not an easy thing to do without someone noticing. And what would make him so certain that she would go looking for it?”

  “He’d be sure if he knew her. It was something important to her.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, Ashlyn drinking her water, Tain rubbing his eyes.

  “We still have to watch the rest of the security footage.”

  “We will, but right now it’s time for us to go to church.” Tain stood up and popped the tape out of the machine. “This guy didn’t just bump Lindsay. He bumped into Luke Driscoll. Maybe the devoted youth leader can give us a description.”

  Ashlyn laughed. “You’re such a cynic.”

  “Me, Ashlyn? You’re the self-proclaimed atheist.”

  “Agnostic, Tain. And I’m not talking about faith in higher powers. I’m talking about faith in people.”

  “In our line of work? Why the hell should I have faith in anybody?”

  “You just shouldn’t be so quick to suspect the worst in everyone.”

  “I don’t. I happen to think it’s highly unlikely you’d go on a killing spree.”

  She gave him a wry smile. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Of course, it could happen by accident if I let you drive,” he said as he snatched the car keys off her desk.

  “It could happen on purpose if you keep talking,” she muttered, following him out the door.

  “Preliminary indications are that she died around midnight, one AM. Ligature marks are obvious, and there’s petechial hemorrhaging to support strangulation as the cause of death. Once she’s on the table you’ll know more. That’s all I’ve gotten from Burke so far.”

  “Any idea what he used?” Craig asked.

  The FIS officer held up an evidence bag with a few neckties in it. “Looks like he double wrapped them together, twisted them a bit to make it like one thick cord and pulled for all he was worth.”

  “Not that she stood much of a chance. She looks like she was barely five feet tall, and her hands were bound. Any idea if he brought this with him?”

  “No such luck. They belonged to the husband.”

  Craig glanced at Daly as the FIS officer walked away.

  “So it was an impulse, not planned,” Daly said. “Not like the blindfold and gag and rope that he brings with him.”

  “And if he’d planned to kill her from the beginning, why not just use the rope? He didn’t need to wrap it around her hands half a dozen times.”

  “Something happened. Something set this guy off.”

  They watched as the body of Nitara Sandhu was carried past them. A sudden cry came from the room across the hall, and a man lunged forward, falling to the floor as officers tried to hold him back from intercepting the body.

  Raw grief. Craig swallowed. Every time he looked into the eyes of one of the living victims it felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart. Now, seeing this man collapse in a heap, crying…

  “I’ve got to talk to Inspector Hawkins. We’re going to have the press all over us now.” Daly put a hand on Craig’s shoulder. “You call me if you need anything.”

  Craig swallowed and nodded. They could still hear Mr. Sandhu crying as officers moved him back into the other room. “I think we might need victim’s services down here.”

  Daly glanced at the other doorway, his shoulders drooping slightly as he sighed. He nodded at Craig. “I’ll call them for you.”

  Come on. Somebody having an affair, sneaking out on their folks, anything. No neighborhood is this clean.

  Craig rubbed his forehead. It would be nice if there were places filled with people who were inherently good. Some Leave It to Beaver land where the residents did all the normal family things and nobody ever got in serious trouble.

  He double checked his notes. There wasn’t one house on this street he hadn’t been to, and he didn’t have a single clue or lead. No, nobody had heard anything. Around midnight? You must be joking. Everyone was asleep.

  Craig walked down the road that intersected with the Sandhus’ street. At the next intersection, he turned left and began working his way along the homes that shared a lane with the road the Sandhu house was on.

  Nothing, nothing, nothing. He knocked on the door to the fourth house.

  The woman who answered seemed to be descending back into the earth at a measurable rate per hour, the door handle just barely within her reach. She offered an automatic smile as she blinked up at him and reached for the glasses dangling from the chain around her neck.

  Craig smiled back and sighed. The lenses on her frames were almost as thick as the panes of glass in the door.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you. My name is Constable Nolan,” he said, holding his ID about three inches from her wizened face. “I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

  “You know, don’t you?” she said, peering up at him with wide eyes.

  “I know?”

  “I’m pregnant. We should run away.”

  “Gran. Alec, geez. What the hell are you doing, letting Gran answer the door to strangers?”

  A lanky teenager rushed down the narrow hall, ducking at the last second to avoid a head-on collision with the chandelier.

  “Don’t let him take me,” the woman cried, grasping Craig’s arms with her clawlike fingers. “He wants me to himself.”

  Craig opened his mouth to speak but realized he didn’t know what to say. The boy lunged forward, pried Craig loose from her grip and led her away.

  “Come on, Gran. Alec,” he called.

  Another boy, half a head shorter, stepped into the hall and took the woman’s hand. “Let’s get a snack,” he said, disappearing with the woman, who was now prattling on about whether or not they should take the kids and leave the farm.

  “Sorry.” The elder teen shrugged. “Alzheimer’s.”

  Craig nodded and held up his ID. The boy’s eyes narrowed as he studied it, and then his lopsided grin returned. “I’m planning to go to the Depot. Right after graduation.” The smile faltered for a split second. “My dad says I have to have a degree before I chase after some thankless job that’ll suck the l
ife out of me.”

  “It’s not a bad idea to have a degree anyway. Most of us do now.”

  “So what’s this about? You’re plainclothes, so you can’t be here about the backyard parties at the end of the street.”

  Craig felt his eyebrows pinch together. “Well, I’m not, but tell me about them anyway.”

  The teen shrugged and moved onto the step, pointing down to the end of the block, the end of the street Craig hadn’t been to yet.