“There were never any photos of the victims released to the press.”
“None?” I asked.
“Not that I know of,” McCarthy said.
“We’ll need to chew on that later. Right now, let’s get the area roped off and start searching around. The sun will be up soon. By the time we’re roped off, we’ll have light. McCarthy, why don’t you and Berris stay with the body for now? Baker, grab Quinlin and start getting the area secure.”
Baker nodded.
The four of them, plus Hank and me, wouldn’t be enough manpower.
“Hank, start looking around and see if anything looks out of place. I’ll be there to help in a second. I need to call up the captain for more men.”
“Yup,” Hank said.
I slid my phone from my pocket and dialed Captain Bostok.
“Bostok,” he answered.
“Hey, it’s Kane.”
“Are you guys on the scene?” he asked.
“Hank and I got here a few minutes ago. I met him at the station, and we drove over.”
“I’m just walking in now. I bumped into Mueller on his way out in the parking structure. He said the body there was skinned?”
“Yeah. There’s bad, worse, and then this.”
“Skinned how? Like skin missing?”
“No, like only a few pieces of skin remaining. McCarthy mentioned something about the Quilter. I guess he worked one of those scenes and said this was identical.”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone for a moment before Bostok spoke. “Redding was executed a long time ago. If this is the same, it’s by way of a copycat. Redding was the Quilter, without a doubt.”
“I’m just letting you know what he said.”
“Any evidence there?” Bostok asked.
“On first glance, no. I’m having the patrol guys get the scene secured, but I’m going to need more men out here. That’s why I’m calling.”
“How many?”
“At least a dozen.”
“I’ll talk to Timmons and have him round some people up to send over. Geez, almost a month without a homicide and now this.” The captain let out a puff of air. “Find me when you get back.”
“I will.” I hung up.
I spotted headlights and the outline of the county coroner’s black van approaching from up the street. I walked to the curb and guided Ed, driving the van, to the corpse. He parked twenty feet away from the body and opened the driver’s door. The dome light lit the van’s interior, and I could see Ed’s dark-blue jacket with the word coroner across the back as he stepped out and closed the door. He rounded the front of the van toward me.
“Morning, Ed,” I said.
“Lieutenant,” he said. He shook my hand. “Been a while. I heard your vacation up north last month was eventful.”
“To say the least,” I said.
“Everything done with all of that?”
“Azarov is dead, and the feds say I’m in the clear.”
“Good. The word trickled through that your father was shot. How is he doing?”
“He’s been back on his feet for a couple weeks now. He’ll be fine.”
“Good to hear. I take it that’s our body there?” Ed pointed toward the tarp.
“Yeah, the sooner we can get it out of here, the better,” I said.
Ed motioned with his hand for me to lead the way. I walked him toward Berris, McCarthy, and the body. Ed went to the side of the covered man and crouched.
“It’s bad under there, Ed,” I said.
He balked but then pulled the tarp back. He stared at the remains. Ed turned his head toward me. He rubbed his bushy eyebrows and then ran his fingers through his gray hair. He spoke one word, “Quilter.”
Chapter 3
Hank and I left the park around eleven. I divided up all the uniforms sent over. Half searched the park while the other half spent the morning door knocking and keeping the residents of the neighborhood at bay. We came up empty in our search for anything resembling a clue. There wasn’t as much as a trace of evidence anywhere. Not one resident gave us anything to work off of. Our officers found no cameras in the vicinity. We had nothing.
Hank and I grabbed a quick lunch at Dotana’s on the way back to the station. I talked to Callie briefly while I ate. I decided to wait to break the news that our fishing and camping trip we had planned for the weekend would most likely get canceled. I sat down at my desk a few minutes after noon and then saw the captain leaving his office and heading over.
Bostok stood in my doorway. “Well?” he asked.
“We have zip.”
“Nothing at all?” he asked.
I let out a breath and rattled my fingers across my desk. “No evidence in the park or surrounding areas. Not a single resident saw anything. At least, that’s what the ones who actually spoke with our guys said.”
Captain Bostok cleared his throat. “What about Rick and Pax?”
“I’m pretty sure Rick and Pax are at the medical examiner’s office.”
“For?” Bostok asked.
“They were going to look over the remains for any kind of trace. The scene was starting to turn into a zoo, with all the residents coming out to get a look. The media started to show up around nine. After Rick and Pax were done photographing everything and searched the area, Ed took the body. We just wanted to get the remains out of there as soon as possible. No one needed to see that.”
“The initial cause of death?”
“Ed was going to get started on the autopsy as soon as Rick and Pax were done. I should probably give those guys a ring and see where we are at.”
“Did you talk to anyone from the press?” Bostok asked.
“I gave them the usual—we’re investigating, and we’ll have a press release for them at a later time.”
Captain Bostok rapped his knuckles on my door. “Okay. Get in touch with Rick and let me know if they found anything.”
“I will. Hey, who is still around that worked the Redding case?”
Bostok held out his hand for me to pump the brakes on that topic. “Let’s just see what we get back from Rick and Ed first,” he said.
“McCarthy worked one of the cases. He said there were details there that weren’t made public. It could be our best lead.”
“You’d want to talk to the major. We have a few people still around, but at the time, Danes’s lieutenant was the lead, and Major Danes was the number two.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t know that.”
“He’s not big on talking about it. Get whatever you can from Ed, Rick, and Pax. After that, we can talk with the major.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
“Where’s Rawlings?”
“At his desk, the last time I checked. I had him getting a directory of the local residents to call. It seems people in the neighborhood there don’t like answering their doors for cops. What do you need him for?”
“It’s something that I need both of you for, but it can wait. I’ll talk to you after a while.” Bostok turned and walked back toward his office.
I scooped up my desk phone and dialed Ed over at the medical examiner’s office. The phone rang twice before the receptionist picked up.
“Hillsborough County Medical Examiner’s Office. This is Brenda.”
“Hi, Brenda. It’s Lieutenant Kane. Is Ed in?”
“Sure, let me page him. I think he’s in the back. One second.”
“No problem. Thanks.”
Hold music played in my ear longer than usual.
The phone picked back up. “Hey, Lieutenant. Ed says he’s busy with the autopsy at the moment, but if you’d like to come down, he can go over everything with you in person.”
“Sure. Thanks, Brenda. Tell him I’ll be down in a bit. Hey, are my forensics guys still there?”
“I believe they are sitting in with Ed during the autopsy.”
“Okay, I’ll be down shortly.”
I clicked off
and left my office. I found Hank at his desk, his phone resting on the shoulder of his jet-black suit jacket. A list of telephone numbers, half crossed out, sat in front of him on his desk. “Do you want to ride with me over to Ed’s?”
He rocked his head back and forth. “Um. Nah, go ahead. I’m going to keep dialing here.”
“Any luck so far?” I asked.
“Nope. I have fifty or sixty numbers to go.”
“Okay, I’ll be back in an hour or so. We’ll catch up then.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll probably be through these numbers by then. Hopefully, we get something.”
I left Hank to it and took an unmarked Charger from our parking lot. The drive over to Ed’s was surprisingly traffic free. I pulled to the front of the county ME’s office a few minutes after one. Rick’s car was in the lot. The guys were still there. I walked up, pulled the green glass doors open, and entered the lobby.
Brenda flashed me a smile from the front desk and pointed down the hall. “They’re in the fridge. Head on back,” she said.
I walked the hallway and pushed open the stainless-steel doors. I found the guys in the back room where the autopsies were conducted. Rick and Pax stood to one side of our victim. Ed had his back toward me.
Ed looked over his shoulder in my direction. “Lieutenant. We’re just about finished up.”
I walked over and took a spot next to Rick and Pax.
“Any evidence?” I asked.
“We’re going to take the gauze the man wore back to the lab and process it. We’ve learned a few things here, though,” Rick said.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I’ll let Ed go over it with you,” Rick said.
Ed removed the gloves he wore and went to the sink to wash up. He spoke over the sound of the running faucet. “The incisions that removed the skin were surgical in nature. You can see it clearly—definitely a scalpel. The same tool was used to cut the man’s throat.”
“That was the cause of death?” I asked.
Ed shook his head, bumped the faucet off with the back of his wrist, and dried his hands. “No. We have ligature marks in the muscle around his neck. It looks like he was choked with something thin, electrical cord or something of that nature. I believe the cut to the throat from the scalpel was to drain the blood.”
I didn’t respond.
Ed pointed at the body. “Same scalpel for the skin though, like I said. You can see how neat the cuts are around the ears.”
I looked at the cuts. They were indeed neat and precise.
Ed stepped back to us, across the table that the man’s body lay upon.
“Anything to help us with an identification?” I asked.
“We have a tissue sample for DNA. That’s about it, aside from a height, weight, approximate age, and race,” Rick said.
“So what are those?” I asked.
“Seventies, from what I can tell. I have the height at five-seven. The weight of the remains is one hundred and ninety-one. Probably a few pounds more with the skin and blood.”
I pulled my notepad from my suit pocket and jotted down what Ed had told me.
“Tox screen?” I asked.
“We’re still waiting on it… but…” Ed let out a breath and scooped up a folder from the stainless-steel shelf running along the wall. “Have a look at this.”
He handed me the folder. I flipped it open and thumbed through the first couple pages. They appeared to be old documents of some sort. I stopped when I reached the photos.
“I was the assistant medical examiner for the Redding murders. I had Brenda dig through our archives and find the file,” Ed said.
I looked at the photos of four men. They were all identical.
“Look here,” Ed said. He pointed at the areas of skin remaining on our corpse and then at the corresponding images in the folder. “See that?” he asked. “Identical. And look here.” Ed pointed at the legs of the man on the table and then at the photos. “You see the damage to the leg muscles here?” That’s where they were hung.”
“Hung?” I asked.
“Hung upside down to drain the blood while the skin was removed.”
I was quiet, looking for words. “So, um, we have a copycat. Is that what you’re saying?” I asked.
“It’s damn near perfect,” Ed said.
I flipped the folder closed. “I didn’t live down here when this was going on. How much did the press actually know? How many of the details were actually distributed?” I asked.
Ed scratched his bushy eyebrows. “Never any specifics, Kane.”
“That’s leaving us a couple options.” I took a moment and thought about it further. “Someone on the inside got access to either your or the police’s files. Redding shared his methods with someone, or he had an accomplice. Whatever the exact scenario is, someone is out recreating his work.”
Ed nodded. “If they are, we’ll be seeing more bodies. And I doubt it was from our end, as far as the files go.”
“How are you so certain?”
“We store our archives here. I’m the only person who has the key, and this is the only file. Someone would have had to get in and make copies or memorize this file without my knowledge. It’s just not that likely is all I’m saying.”
I thumbed the folder back open and searched for dates on the sheets but didn’t see any. “Where are the dates on these, Ed?”
He peered around the side of my shoulder and flipped back to the first page. “These first couple are overviews.” He thumbed four or five pages in. “There you go.” Ed’s finger landed on a date, April 10, 1984. “Thirty years ago today,” he said.
I thumbed to the next date, the next, and then the final. “Four days in succession, we found bodies?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Ed said.
“Okay, Rick, Pax, why don’t you guys get back and see what you can get from that gauze. Get going on whatever photos and fingerprints you guys got from the scene this morning. I’ll check in with you back at the station later this afternoon.”
“Sounds good,” Rick said. He and Pax started for the door.
“Rick,” I said.
He stopped and turned.
“Find out where our evidence, files, and everything else is on the Quilter case. Have someone bring it to you guys in forensics.”
“Will do.”
Rick and Pax left the room.
“Do you have anything going on at the moment, Ed?” I asked.
“I just need to get our body here wrapped up and taken next door to storage. What’s up?”
“Can you hold off on that for a few minutes? I need you to give me a history lesson on the Quilter case.”
“Sure. Let’s head to my office. Bring that file. We’ll get it copied.”
I followed Ed out.
Chapter 4
Angel peered out at the street through broken blinds. Policemen walked up and down the block, knocking on doors. They had already stopped at her front door, but she hadn’t answered. The home they stood in had been rented by Angel six months prior. The deteriorating bungalow had two windows at the front with a small, covered front porch. One of the front windows was broken at the bottom. A brown tarp covered the back of the home’s roof, where shingles were missing. The front of the garage had been cinderblocked in to create a makeshift bedroom. Most of the paint had worn from the exterior stucco. A small chain-link fence wrapped the perimeter of her lot. The neighboring houses stood just ten feet away on both sides. Neither of the two looked much better from the curb. Across the street was an empty lot.
When it had hit the market for rent, she acquired it for Carmen. Carmen had lived in the neighborhood with Angel’s father years back—the house they lived in used to stand in the vacant lot across the street. Carmen stated that every time she looked out the front window, over at the lot, a memory of Jack would come back. She stood in the window staring out, often.
The police returned to her side of the street.
“Mam
a, I think they are coming back.”
“Don’t worry about it, baby.” Carmen rose from their old green couch. She stretched her back and smiled. She walked to Angel at the window and ran her hand through Angel’s hair. “They don’t know anything, they’re just going door to door. Now, what kind of cake does my baby want for her birthday?”
Angel turned back toward the window to continue watching the cops. “Don’t be silly. I don’t need a cake.”
“You’re getting a cake. Me, you, and your father’s spirit are going to sit down as a family and celebrate your birthday.”
Angel looked back to Carmen. “Is that what he wants?”
Carmen nodded. “He told me this morning.”
Angel went quiet.
“Now what’s your problem?” Carmen asked.
Angel sulked. “He didn’t tell me anything this morning.”
Carmen took her by the chin. “He talks through me, to you. Why do we need to go over this every five minutes?” She squeezed Angel’s jaw. “He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.”
“Fine.”
Carmen pushed Angel’s face as she released her grip. “Quit being such a baby.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Carmen mimicked in a high voice. “That’s all I ever hear from you. Your father probably doesn’t talk to you because he doesn’t want to hear your whining. Toughen up.”
Angel raised her hand as if she was about to hit Carmen. “Do you want to see me toughen up?”
Carmen’s eyes locked on her. “Do it, and it will be the last thing you do.”
Angel set her jaw and stared at Carmen.
“What!” Carmen yelled. She stared at the ceiling. “I’m not actually going to do anything to her, geez.”
Angel watched Carmen. “What is he saying?”
Carmen dismissed Angel’s question. “Okay, okay,” Carmen said. “Fine. I’ll tell her.”
“Tell me what?” Angel asked.
Carmen took her eyes from the ceiling and looked back at Angel. “He doesn’t want us to fight.”
“Anything else?”
“He says he can’t wait to see you.”
“Really?” Angel smiled.
Progeny Page 2
