Skye Cree Boxed Set Books 1 - 3

by Vickie McKeehan

  “Sure, make one master list.”

  “Exactly, and then narrow down the ones, if any, who fit our guy.”

  “You mean like his type? But we don’t know his type yet,” Harry questioned.

  “We look for three key points. Timeframe. Location. Age. Anything at all that looks like a pattern,” Josh clarified.

  “This list is huge,” Harry said, putting on his reading glasses. “Open that box, Skye. Let’s go through what I’ve got, compare it to what Leo’s come up with.”

  Inside the box were notes from the original missing person reports, info collected by investigators who hadn’t spent a great deal of time digging and looking. That conclusion was evident by the lack of information in each individual file.

  Skye handed off the photos. Most were females ranging in age from twelve to mid-thirties who’d gone missing under mysterious circumstances. They tried to eliminate runaways but it became clear that would be difficult because of the scarcity of details.

  “Wait. Some of this pertains to murder victims,” Skye realized. “There are crime scene photos at the bottom of the box.”

  “I brought those along because I thought we should take a look at homicides of women who fell into the time fit in 1993.”

  “Then we need to separate the data into two groups, one for the missing. The other for those we know were found but not yet identified.”

  “Why don’t we enter the particulars of each case into the database? Easier to keep track that way,” Josh suggested.

  “That’s a lot of keying,” Leo pointed out.

  “Not really,” Skye returned, thumbing through the mess in the box. “Some of these files are incomplete. Your organizational skills leave something to be desired, Harry.”

  “How about we each take a stack of files, enter the names and notes and then merge the info into one database,” Josh offered. “It’ll go faster that way.”

  For almost two hours the three of them with the most computer skills—that left out Harry—sorted through reports and notes, keyed in information, and sorted it all into chronological sequence until they each had a workable spreadsheet.

  For the missing, it included names, physical descriptions of those people last seen with them, witnesses, name of the person who had reported them missing: anything from the investigation, such as it had been, was added.

  For the cases they knew were homicide, they added columns to include where the body had been found, its condition, and any details from the coroner’s office. After finishing with that, they scanned victims’ photos, and any pictures from the crime scenes that included additional pages relating to the autopsies.

  Once that was done, they spent another hour making sure every crime scene photo matched to a name on the list. Next, they combed through each entry, line by line, checking for errors.

  As Leo said, it took an incredible amount of keying, but when it came time for Leo to merge everything into a single database, they each felt confident in the work.

  While they had been busy inputting names and dates, stats and descriptions, into the computer, Harry had scoured the remainder of the case files the old-fashioned way. One by one, he looked for any kidnappings of women that had gone awry, searching for any reports on anyone who might have escaped.

  Hours later, Skye pushed back from the table, stretched her back and looked around at the group. “Who wants coffee?”

  “I need the caffeine jolt if we intend to break down the spreadsheet in more depth,” Leo admitted.

  “I’m with Leo,” Josh agreed.

  “I need something to stay awake just so I can make the drive home…eventually,” Harry said with a yawn.

  “No need for that. It happens we have two guest rooms at the Ander Inn tonight. You’re welcome to bunk here,” Josh offered.

  As Harry took out his cell phone to check in with his wife, Skye came back in from the kitchen. She glanced at the stack of reports Harry had already gone through. But one open file caught her eye. “Did you see this?”

  “See what?”

  “The Judy Howe case from 1999. Her assailant drove a Jeep Cherokee. The timeframe fits.” She thumbed through the pages, read the first page, then the second, then the third. “Oh my God. We may have found a survivor, a girl who managed to escape his torture chamber and live to tell about it.”

  Chapter 12 Book 3

  Both Josh and Harry believed it best if Skye talked to Judy Howe without them being there. They made that decision based on what Harry had uncovered overnight about the woman and the aftermath of her ordeal. Judy hadn’t done well.

  So later that morning, Skye took a twenty-minute trip down to Kent. She found the woman’s apartment building in a modest section of town known as East Hill. Ahead of the visit, Skye took out her cell phone and punched in the number Harry had given her as she’d been instructed to do. Good thing he had already set up the visit because Judy didn’t like having people in her home.

  Once she arrived at the little condo, it took several long minutes for Judy to open the door. Skye heard locks flipping on the other side.

  When the woman did open the door, the first thing Skye noticed was how old she looked—far older than her thirty-five years indicated. Her face was pale, her dishwater blonde hair looked brittle and dry from lack of sunshine.

  Fifteen years earlier Judy had been a twenty-year-old sophomore at Evergreen State with hopes of getting her degree in Marine Science. But a case of bad judgment one night had ended any hope of realizing her dreams.

  Skye got comfortable on an old plaid sofa. Judy finally sat down beside her because there was no other place to sit in the tiny living room. “Judy, I know Harry told you why I’m here. We have a series of murders and abductions and we think it’s the same man who kidnapped you years ago.”

  Judy nodded. “I let you in because I’ve seen you on the news. I know your face, your story. I know you help victims. You find people who’ve been taken. I saw your press conference about Willa Dover.”

  Skye took Judy’s hand. “Why don’t you tell me what happened the night he abducted you? You were living in Olympia at the time.”

  Unsettled at having someone in her space, even someone whom she considered a local celebrity, Judy hesitated. She spent a good minute ringing her hands before she finally said in a low voice, “I was. Olympia is my hometown. I didn’t go very far from where I was raised to attend college. My family didn’t have much money.”

  “Evergreen State is a good school.”

  “I loved it. I was a good student, but even good students get tired of studying all the time. That was the way I felt that Saturday night. I wanted to let my hair down a little. I’d been invited to a party about a mile from my apartment. I thought what the heck? I’ll go have some fun with friends, have a few drinks, get back around midnight, get a good night’s sleep before spending all day Sunday finishing up my term paper for my hydrographic science class.”

  “Sounds like very technical stuff.”

  Judy’s brown eyes grew moist at the memory of what she’d lost. “Oh, it was. I loved it. At one time I pictured myself a marine biologist traveling all over the world collecting and mining data from the ocean. Can you believe that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Judy glanced around her shabby little rental, threw up her hands. “Look at me now. I’m afraid to go out my front door, afraid to look my own friends in the eyes. I have difficulty interacting with my own family. My sister does my grocery shopping for me because I’m petrified I’ll go out and see him. I spend my days and nights afraid he’ll come back one day for me and finish the job. I sleep with the lights on. At one time, I wanted to move, to get out of the state, but in the end I didn’t even have the courage to do that.”

  Skye couldn’t help comparing how her life might’ve paralleled Judy’s if she’d let terror take hold. If she’d been paralyzed with fear that day, she never would have gotten out of Whitfield’s apartment, at least not under her own power.
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br />   “But he didn’t come back for you, Judy. You’re still here, strong as you were the night you got away. Did you get counseling after the attack?”

  Judy nodded. “Every day for two years. Therapy didn’t matter.”

  Skye took her hand. “It probably mattered more than you realize. We’re both survivors. I hate to ask this but I need to know. How about going through your story one more time? Tell me what happened that night.”

  Judy let out a huge sigh that reverberated off her tiny four walls. “I’d met a few friends at the party. But I didn’t know most of them. Around midnight someone brought out cocaine. I decided this is crazy, not my kind of crowd at all, so I slipped out the back door. I hadn’t driven so I set out on foot. I was a little tipsy because I’d had five margaritas in those little plastic cups. I wasn’t used to drinking that much. It’s about forty degrees out and cold. All I had on was a sweater and jeans. Anyway, I got four blocks down the street when this guy pulls up driving a Jeep Cherokee.”

  “By any chance do you remember the color?”

  Judy twisted up her mouth. “Hmm, I think it was red.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “He looked normal, you know? Attractive, well-groomed with brown hair, pretty green eyes. He looked like a thousand other guys I’d seen hanging around my neighborhood since moving there. From behind the wheel, he told me I looked cold and wanted to know if I needed a ride. At the time I thought that was sweet. I told him I lived nearby.”

  “But it was freezing out and you got in the car because he looked like a safe bet.”

  Judy let out another loud sigh. “Exactly. And when he rolled the glass down on the window, I could feel the warmth inside from the heater. I remember that. I decided it was just a few blocks away. What could it hurt? So I ran around the side of the car and hopped in. Everything was fine for the first couple of minutes. But then he reached over to touch me and I backed away. That got him mad. He bashed the side of my head into the passenger window. As soon as my head hit the glass, it seemed like he floored the accelerator. I don’t remember exactly. I was dazed. But at some point, he gunned it out of there and headed to the highway. We drove for a short time, maybe three miles or so till we got away from town.”

  “Do you remember where? Was it near the army base?”

  Judy nodded. “I remember the general area even though it was dark. I was able to catch a glimpse of the sign for the base out of the corner of my eye. You know the one that hangs over the road. But he drove past the entrance, past that sign and turned onto a side road, off the freeway where it was even darker. There were no streetlights. It wasn’t long after that he pulled to a stop on a bumpy stretch of road out in the middle of nowhere. My head was still pounding so much I thought I might pass out. In fact, I remember hoping I would. But then…he dragged me out of the car and into something that looked like an old shed. It only had three walls.”

  “How did you get away from him, Judy?”

  “After he…after he… He hit me several times. And while he was raping me…he had his hands around my throat. He said he’d been watching me, liked what he’d seen and that he had to have me. But he kept hitting me. I was sure he was going to kill me right then. I think he would have but…after he finished the second time, his pager went off. Those were the days when most people had one. Anyway, I remember he looked down at his pager and mumbled a curse word. He said something about having to go back to work. After that, he seemed distracted, not the same man. And when he reached to put on his pants, he turned his back to me. I got up and stumbled out of the opening. Remember the place only had three walls.

  “As soon as I felt the dirt under my feet, I took off running. I’d been a runner in high school, so I was pretty fast. I didn’t know where I was going but I couldn’t stop. I ran to get away from him thinking any minute he’d catch me. I was screaming for someone, anyone, to help me. I was really loud.”

  Skye grinned at her. “I bet you were. You didn’t have your clothes on either, did you?”

  “No, or my shoes. And it was freezing cold. I ran and ran until I fell into a ditch. I stayed there for a long time, didn’t make a sound. I stayed like that until I guess he gave up looking for me. I finally heard the car start up and leave the area.”

  “Who found you?”

  “As soon as it got light enough for me to see where I was going, I started walking toward what I thought was road noise, traffic. When I reached a paved road, a trucker saw me and stopped. He’s the one who called the police.”

  “Wait a minute. Back up. Are you saying this guy didn’t take you very far from where he first talked you into getting in the car that night?”

  “That’s right. It wasn’t far at all from my apartment.”

  “And he didn’t take you that far away to where he stopped the car to assault you in the shed?

  “I’d say no more than five miles away total.”

  “Okay. Do you think you could find it again?”

  “The cops asked me that at the time. They went where I showed them. But I must’ve been confused. They couldn’t find a shed of any kind.”

  Skye frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the cops checked out the area and the shed wasn’t there.”

  Skye rubbed her forehead and got up to pace in front of the couch. How was that even possible? “Is it possible he could’ve moved the shed? If we went back to the general area now, do you think you could point me in the right direction?”

  Judy shook her head. “I won’t go back there. Not ever.”

  “How about drawing me a map from your apartment at the time to where you thought the shed was located? Do you think you could do that?”

  “Sure, I’ll try.”

  Judy took out a pencil and legal pad from an end table drawer. She went over to her little kitchen table and sat down. An hour later, Skye had a decent idea of where Judy had been during her ordeal. While the location wasn’t on the base, it was in the general vicinity.

  “You did great, Judy. Thank you. I want you to work with a sketch artist, help us get a composite of what this guy looks like. You okay with doing that?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I guess. Could you arrange for the artist to be a woman? And could she come to my house?”

  “Not a problem.” Skye put a hand on her shoulder, left it there. She could feel Judy tremble.

  “I came so close to dying that night. Maybe I was meant to die. I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to survive because I’ve had so much trouble coping ever since.”

  “I don’t believe that. The same thing could’ve happened to me. I wasn’t facing death but a life sentence in the sex trade. I got away. You got away. There’s a reason we did.”

  “Is…is there any way I could help you at your Foundation? From home? From right here? I’d be willing to do just about anything. I could stuff envelopes from right here.”

  Skye chewed her bottom lip and made a decision. “I think that could be arranged. But how about this? At some point, if you ever want to get out of these four walls I could offer you a full-time job as my receptionist where you’d answer the phone and take messages.”

  “Really? But…” Judy looked around her apartment. With sad eyes, she added, “But I can’t leave this place.”

  Skye took her hand. “I’ll find this guy, Judy. And when I do, you won’t have to be afraid anymore to leave. Promise me you’ll continue with your therapy. Give it some thought, okay? Any time you’re ready to take the job, you call me. If you say yes, I’ll have to get you an honest to goodness desk because right now, all I have is a folding table.” Skye could see Judy wanted to take the offer. But old habits, especially those reaped in fear, didn’t go away overnight.

  Skye couldn’t think of a better candidate for the job than someone who had been through hell and escaped from it. “You let me know whenever you’re ready to take that first step. The job isn’t going anywhere. It’s yours whenever you want it.”


  Chapter 13 Book 3

  The same day Skye found out the owner of the farmhouse had accepted their bid, the mailman dropped off the third package from their psycho to the Artemis Foundation—an innocuous-looking carton decorated with little red hearts drawn on the front and back.

  A little late for Valentine’s Day, Skye surmised as she used a letter opener to cut through the tape. This time he’d sent the upper and lower arm bones, presumably from the first victim. Another job for Bayliss or Dawson to figure out, Skye decided.

  She lifted the note on top with the same tongs she’d used before. Sad that she’d kept the utensil here at work rather than using it for its intended purpose in her kitchen at home. Holding the note out, she read the message, brief but to the point.

  You’re in over your head. Admit it.

  Maybe she was, Skye thought as she reached for the phone. But damn if she wouldn’t give it her best shot to find this bastard. She dialed Harry’s number first, then Josh’s, then had to look up the contact information for Dawson Hennings.

  Harry decided the best course of action this time was for Skye to bring the box directly to the medical examiner’s office.

  There, Skye watched as a technician dusted the box and its contents for fingerprints. They took Skye’s so they could eliminate them from the carton.

  Disgusted with frustration, she pointed out, “You do realize that the mailman’s are probably all over the outer shell and the dozen or so other people who handled it at the post office, don’t you?”

  “Sure I do. But when you’ve got nothing, you have to reach for anything. Process of elimination,” Harry barked.

  Josh looked around the room at the faces of the same people who’d started this quest. “No fingerprints leave us with exactly what we had before. Nothing.”

  The grumbling had Dawson offering up a tidbit. “It isn’t all bad news. I can tell you this much. I was able to extract DNA from the first set of bones to get a profile. It’s female. I entered it into the FBI’s National Crime Information Center and CODIS, category, unidentified human remains. I also got fingerprints off the mummified hand which I entered into IAFIS. We might get a hit there if the victim was ever picked up for anything. But to get a match to the profile in NCIC or CODIS…”