Skye put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay? Harry’s looking as exhausted as you are.”
“We’ve all had a long night. This is one of the most disturbing cases I’ve ever encountered in all my years in law enforcement,” Emmett admitted. “If Tiffany is accurate, there are far more victims than we first thought. In addition to the number on Leo’s list we should look in surrounding states as far south as California and as far north as Canada.”
“That’s what we were afraid of,” Josh said, slapping Emmett on the back. “Which means we have a lot of calls to make, a lot of law enforcement agencies to contact.”
“And families,” Skye added. “Someone has to let the families know.”
“How many personalities have appeared so far?”
“So far, just the four, the ones you know about, two men, two women. Dillard is the youngest. Emotionally, that is. In his head, Dillard Barstow is still in his early teens. Theron King, however, is the adult male, not just a name he pulled out of a hat to put on some line for a court document either. At eighteen, around the time Dillard went off to college, the boy took on another personality that would allow him to successfully navigate dorm life and interact with his peers. Theron became the prosperous, laid-back gardener, the pensive thoughtful man who likes to read and teaches others how to grow plants at the community college three days a week.”
“We have victims in and around Oregon State. Theron had to help him kill and dispose of bodies if he appeared to Dillard during his college days.” Skye’s patience ran to the thin side. “Listen to me, I sound like I’m buying this crap.”
“Make no mistake Theron had a part in all of it, as did Tiffany and Justine. They all played their independent roles to help Dillard gain the most success in the murders. The females, however, are another fascinating aspect of Dillard’s life. Those two women are already taking over for him. There’s no doubt about that.”
“Protecting him? How convenient,” Skye asserted, reverting back to her cynical side.
Emmett shook his head. “No. Dillard hasn’t had a protector since he was a small boy, if ever. It’s also interesting that Dillard hasn’t uttered a word since four o’clock this morning. He’s either surrendering the boy entirely, or he’s letting Justine and Tiffany take point. The women have been planning a total mutiny for years now so it isn’t that much of a stretch.”
Skye sent a furious glare toward Emmett. “Seriously? You’re buying this guy’s act? So if you are right, and I’m not saying you are, what happened to his Theron King personality? What did it do, go poof as soon as Harry slapped the cuffs on Dillard? Uh-uh. Not buying into this at all.”
“Just hear me out,” Emmett said, appealing to Skye’s logic. “Unfortunately, Theron King wasn’t around as long as the two females, certainly not as long as Tiffany and Justine. I’d say Theron existed for no more than ten to twelve years at most. Like I said before, Theron probably emerged during Dillard’s college years because the freshman likely needed help to make his way through the stress of college life. That’s about the time he got the idea to go to court to legally become Theron King. On the other hand, Justine and Tiffany have been around since he was a kid. They know all about Dillard’s childhood. Those two hold his humiliations, his secrets, and all his failures.”
Emmett shoved his hands in his pockets and faced Skye. “I hate to break it to you, but not all of this is an act. There’s no doubt in my mind that, at this point, the male personalities, Dillard and Theron, are losing out to the stronger females, Justine and Tiffany.”
“For a reason,” Skye argued. “Dillard’s ass is about to fry and he needs a buffer.”
“I don’t think so. After all these years, the women are finally moving toward total control. And they will eventually get it. A good psychiatrist could probably get the females to merge at some point and become one. That’s who Dillard will eventually become.”
For Skye, it all began to tumble into place. But she didn’t go down that road without a fight. “So you don’t think the female mannerisms are fake or the attempt at sounding like a woman is a ruse?”
“I truly don’t. Theron King’s already been abandoned and Dillard’s on the way out. It’s actually fairly typical when a child fractures into other pieces. They often do it as a coping mechanism trying to deal with a difficult home life, or in cases of severe child abuse that occurs over many years, on many levels, the child seeks an escape for the pain. It’s too great for one personality to bear so they splinter into others.”
“And you’re convinced that’s what’s happening here?”
“I am. I did get some important answers to our questions. One of the reasons the coroner didn’t find ID numbers on the breast implants is because Lisa, Carrie, and Taylor were all shipped to foreign buyers within a week of their abductions, Lisa to Bulgaria, Carrie to Venezuela, Taylor to Syria. Each girl was given implants at the behest of their buyers.”
A sick look washed over Skye’s face. “And the surgeon didn’t bother using reputable equipment, let alone manufacturers.”
“I’m afraid not. The upside to all this, if there is one, is that Harry seized King’s work computers and his laptop at home, we should be able to track most, if not all, of his trafficking transactions.”
“Just let us know how we can help,” Skye said.
Emmett turned to Josh. “Did you tell her the rest? Did you mention what you came up with on your own?”
“We were just getting to it when you came out. After Dillard’s booking, I heard him keep mumbling something about Oreias. Knowing that was the tag he used at the website, I looked it up on my phone. Turns out, it means ‘from the mountain.’ Apparently it’s the name he gave to what he saw as his spirit guide.”
“The panther he mentioned, his only friend. That’s what he said last night. But he isn’t Native American,” Skye pointed out. “So where does he get off claiming he has a spirit guide?”
“No, he isn’t Native. In fact, Winston discovered Barstow’s maternal grandmother was Greek. She died about two years ago. Her birth name was Athena Verdalos. The ancient Greeks were known to believe in mythological figures, gods and goddesses. They passed down powerful storytelling from generation to generation, much like Native Americans. In the Greek culture the panther was considered all-powerful. My guess is that as a child Dillard simply manufactured or rather imagined a protector of sorts, his panther, Oreias.”
“Okay, I have a measure of empathy for what the child endured. The castration was horrific and inexcusable. If I could I’d…” She shook her head. “I’m not sure what. But it’s no excuse for becoming a serial killer.”
“Agreed,” Josh went on. “I also found out that in Greek, Theron means hunter. It stands to reason that as a serial killer, Dillard changed his name combining two of the most powerful things he very much wanted to become. Theron, the hunter of women, and King, the king of… Something, his own domain maybe.”
“Fascinating. I’m impressed you came up with all that,” Skye admitted. After much thought, she added, “That might explain the origin of the spell that afflicted you. You said it yesterday. Greeks were big believers in curses, especially against their enemies. Going all the way back to ancient civilization, they practiced their own brand of sorcery.”
“Archaeologists have dug up artifacts with inscriptions proving the Greeks targeted certain people back in the day with spells and incantations. The Verdalos family came from a small town called Tyrnavos. The town’s claim to fame is that Homer mentioned the area in his epic, Odyssey, referring to the city as Aeolia. So if the family can trace their roots back that long ago, I’d say it seems logical the grandmother might’ve passed down a list of centuries-old spells to her only grandson to use. And here’s another interesting tidbit. Dillard Barstow’s grandmother came to this country in 1945 as a young war bride after she met and married an Italian officer named Marcello Tesslo. He was stationed on Crete during the war.”
“So Dillard’s
grandfather, this Tesslo guy, fought with the Germans?”
“Apparently the entire Verdalos clan did. Winston came across documents, declassified now, that showed the Verdalos family were huge followers of Mussolini. Somehow, despite that fact, the couple made it into the U.S. without detection and settled down in rural Idaho.”
“That’s where we should start, back at the beginning to try and find out where Dillard put all his Idaho victims? Has anyone tapped into that well of information yet and convinced one of his alter egos to step up and tell us that?”
Emmett was well aware by now that Skye had the patience of a raccoon about ready to tear into a sack of trash. “I’ll eventually get one of them to tell me where the bodies are back in Idaho. That’s where Dillard, Tiffany, and Justine started out and that’s where we’ll find our answers to this whole disturbing odyssey.”
Josh traded glances with Emmett. “Here in Seattle we had help from Mother Nature on that score. We’ve been preoccupied enough that we missed the other big news story of the day.” He told them about the mudslide at Lake Union and described the aftermath.
Skye’s reaction was typical. “Damn. So instead of heading home for a shower and a bed like normal people, we have one more stop to make first.”
Josh grinned at his wife. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
The rain had stopped sometime around dawn but not before making a mess of Seattle’s streets and parks. Flooding had halted traffic in downtown and the surrounding suburbs. Because of that it took them twice as long to make a trip that should’ve taken twenty minutes.
Once they reached Theron King’s place, Skye and Josh looked on as the crime scene techs donned their protective suits to collect evidence—exposed skulls and vertebrae from various graves.
The grounds hummed with activity as the teams worked like archaeologists digging for artifacts. What they’d discovered so far was an expansive area Dillard had used for a cemetery. The tidy gardens she’d so admired the day before were now in shambles. The heavy rain had taken its toll. Mud-laden topography had opened up crevices and uncovered what Dillard had hoped to keep hidden. Mass graves.
The lack of tattered clothing near the interment sites meant that some bodies had been buried naked while other graves still held various pairs of threadbare jeans, frayed shirts and blouses, even bras and panties—the clothing still clinging to skeletal bones.
It appeared that Dillard, the serial killer, had varied his methods, depending on the victim and circumstance.
“He most likely strangled his victims with his hands or used a knife, stabbing into soft tissue,” Bayliss said without being asked. “I feel comfortable saying that after eyeballing some of the remains. I’m not seeing any apparent bullet wounds on the skulls or the rest of the bones.”
“This is the reason we got such a creepy feeling while we were standing here,” Skye said scanning the landscape. Looking out over the grounds another thought occurred to her. “I know he owned a lucrative business and the sex trade provided ample additional income. But when you look at this place, it took a great deal of cash to continue upkeep and maintenance. I mean look at the money he poured into his gardens.”
Josh scratched his head. “I’m sure Dillard always fell back on his marijuana business for extra cash.”
“What?”
“You heard me. While I waited outside the interview room to talk to Harry and Emmett, I studied the satellite images of all the outlying properties Dillard owned, or rather Theron King owned.” He took out his iPad to show her what he was talking about. “I captured screen shots of the ones in question.” He pointed to the display. “Those are marijuana plants, massive in numbers.”
Skye took the device, studied the photos. “I’ll be damned. I don’t know much about the drug trade but I’d say those are prime plants. Maybe I could get a few tips from Dillard, the grower. You know, for my own garden. This guy definitely has a green thumb.” The words had no sooner left her lips than the shocking truth dawned on her. “Oh. My. God. You don’t suppose it’s because of the human remains scattered in all these places do you?”
Josh got a sick look on his face. “That’s disturbing. But it might explain a few things. Who mentions that to Bayliss?”
“That there are possibly other burial sites? Not me. I don’t want the medical examiner to get his panties in a wad. That guy doesn’t like me as it is.” Her eyes darted around the property, checking out all the places where the most thriving flowers had existed yesterday before the landslide. From memory she counted twelve spots that had seemed to flourish more than the rest. “How many bodies do you think are out there?”
“Too many. Dillard spent years using his personal landmass to bury his victims. He counted on the bodies staying put where they were. But he forgot one thing.”
“Yeah. You don’t mess with Mother Nature.”
Epilogue
Three days later, Christmas Eve
Bainbridge Island, Washington
People could see the farmhouse lit up once they turned the corner at the end of the block. It was hard to miss. For the past couple of days, Skye and Josh had gone crazy putting up decorations—everywhere. Out on the front lawn a lighted Mr. and Mrs. Claus display, complete with reindeer, waved to neighbors. They’d strung hundreds of lights that dangled from the roofline and eaves. They’d wrapped another hundred or so around the posts on the porch. A real lush wreath, laden with berries and pinecones, set off the red front door.
By the time they’d gotten around to hunting down a tree, the selections had been dismal at best. So they’d settled for a slightly lopsided, irregularly shaped, but no less beautiful, locally grown Fraser fir. The fifteen-foot tree dominated the corner of the living room.
Santa, otherwise known as Reggie Bechtol, was a hit with the kids. Skye had arranged for him to have his own big chair next to the tree where he sat handing out candy.
Even though there was no snow in sight, Frosty the Snowman played in the background while guests continued to stream through the door.
Phyllis and Doug Ander walked in, immediately oohing and aahing over the festive decor. “You’ve done such a wonderful job on the outside. And look at that tree, Doug.”
“I see it, hard not to.” Doug sent a sidelong glance toward his son. “Your mother’s always been a sucker for a glittery tree. You know she still insists on putting it up the day after Thanksgiving.”
Josh put his arm around Skye. “Some people hit the stores on Black Friday. Not Mom. She gets up at five a.m., spends all morning dragging out the decorations from the attic, and then recruits Dad to hang the lights around the house. She makes it an exhausting, all-day event.”
Phyllis cuffed her son’s arm. “It’s not that bad. Sue me because I get into the Christmas mood early on. You’ve done an amazing job here, Skye.”
“Thanks. It was sort of a last-minute rush to the finish line.”
Josh directed his mom and dad to the bar. “It’s set up in the dining room, wine, beer, cocktails. Mom, I’m pretty sure there’s a martini with your name on it in there.”
Phyllis waved a hand in the air. “I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch, so I’ll hold off on the martini until I get something on my stomach.”
Skye picked up a tray filled with appetizers. “Try one of these mini shrimp cocktails, or a cranberry meatball, or maybe the cherry-pecan Brie with these little crackers. I’m told it’s tasty. And we have non-alcoholic Christmas punch to drink for the kids made with cranberry juice, lemonade, and pineapple juice. Try a glass.”
“Oh, that’s sounds good. I’ll start with that.”
Once his parents had moved on to the dining room, Josh greeted Lena and Travis with the same directive as Zoe tagged along behind.
“Do I get a beer? Maybe a rum and Coke?” Zoe piped up.
“Yeah, in about ten years,” Travis shot back. “Dream on.”
“Hey, I’d be an old woman by then,” Zoe argued. “And it’s Christmas Ev
e.”
“Try again in another seven years,” Lena said to the teen.
Zoe shrugged off the joking around and immediately launched into something else. “Lena said I might be getting some work babysitting in the future. Where’s the couple with the baby?”
Skye momentarily bungled her hold on the hors d'oeuvres tray. Josh noticed, reached over and took it out of her hands before she dropped it.
“Zoe’s talking about Hank and Melina and little Alec,” Josh gauged. “They’re standing over by the tree. Go introduce yourself.”
“Where’s Atka?” Again Zoe had changed topics almost in mid-sentence.
“We put her in the upstairs bedroom. Maybe in an hour or so you could free her from confinement and take her out to pee,” Skye suggested.
“Sure thing.”
When the trio drifted to the other room, Skye leaned in and wanted to know, “Did those three just happen to show up at the same time or did they come together?”
Josh sent her a sly grin. “They got out of Travis’s truck. So…”
“Ah.”
Velma overheard the exchange and raised a brow. “You two better stop gossiping. The boss it seems has a new girlfriend. Who’d have thought, he and Lena, huh? What do you think?”
“That he’s finally coming to his senses,” Skye joked.
Skye fixed her gaze on Harry walking through the doorway with his wife, Elizabeth. Skye offered up a wave. “What do you think about Harry retiring?”
“He’ll drive me crazy,” Elizabeth retorted. “All kidding aside though, it’s time. After so many years the job’s getting to him. And the cases just keep piling up.”
“And getting weirder all the time,” Josh added.
“That’s the truth of it,” Elizabeth agreed. “This one kept him up nights walking the floor. It’s a good time for me to thank both of you for how much you’ve helped Harry these past few years. You’ve taken so much of the pressure off him that I really appreciate the job you guys do.”
His Garden of Bones Page 26
