“The medical examiner’s theory seems plausible. But you also said no body parts were missing.”
“There’s the rub. I don’t know now if there is a connection, but three bodies in the same time frame that aren’t gang related is too much, even for the Bay Area. These crimes aren’t typical, and we can’t ignore that.”
“I agree,” said Kang.
Sokolov nodded his answer as well.
“So now what?” Kang asked.
I’d had no idea the meeting would end that way, but I couldn’t ignore my gut. “I think we should combine our efforts and work the three cases together.”
Chapter 14
Because we were employed by different law enforcement agencies, it made sense for each of us to retain the lead on our individual cases and continue to share information as we acquired it until something in one of the three cases suggested we work differently. I had to admit, Kang did not come across as an idiot, nor did Sokolov. My impression was quite the opposite. They were nothing like the two detectives I’d gotten saddled with while working a case in Detroit.
I bade goodbye to Kang and Sokolov, unsure of what I had gotten myself into, and headed out of the building. The Oakland satellite office, where Agent Tracy House was stationed, was my next stop. I wanted to hear her take on the crime and catch up a bit. It had been a while since we had last spent time together. I called ahead to let her know I was on my way and she suggested we meet at the Starbucks around the corner—the air conditioning in the office was on the fritz.
House arrived before I did and acquired a table in the far back, away from most of the customers. She waved and smiled as I walked toward her and gave me a hug when I reached the table.
“I got you hot water.” She slid a paper cup toward me.
“Thanks.” House knew I had a specific taste for a special green tea that I always carried with me. I removed the lid from the cup and dropped a pinch into the water. I returned the cover to let it steep a bit before taking a sip. “I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me about the case,” I started. “I know your write-ups are detailed and—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving her hand. “I totally get it. I’m the same way. What do you want to know?”
“Walk me through everything as you saw it.”
House recapped that Saturday morning for me, leaving out no details as I listened and sipped my tea. Only when she finished did I ask my first question.
“So you don’t think the body was moved there?”
“I wondered that as well, but I did a perimeter search shortly after finding the body and couldn’t locate any evidence of a body being dragged or even a trail of blood. All bodily fluids were confined to the spot where the body lay.”
“And you didn’t see the victim until you were in the clearing?”
“That’s correct. In fact, I wandered into the clearing from the back side. I was on Fern Creek Trail, heading south toward Muir Woods, but veered off it by accident. That’s how I stumbled into that area. Had I stayed on the trail, I wouldn’t have found it. Some hiker would have smelt the decomposition days later, though. You think someone put the body there?”
“Not really. Ruling it out, I guess.”
My pieces of the puzzle were starting to grow. Piper met her killer sometime after leaving the hostel. If she headed straight to the ferry building, that left a tiny window where she could have met up with someone. If I closed in on those few hours, eventually I would squeeze the killer into the open.
“I know the girl left the hostel alone, so she had to have come into contact with someone she trusted to hike with along the way.”
House leaned forward in her chair. “So possible meeting points are the ports from where the ferry leaves and arrives, the ride across the Bay and the park.”
“There’s one more place. Earlier, I questioned a girl that works at the hostel. She said Piper mentioned a store that sold organic cotton candy.”
“Organic?” A look of discontent appeared on House’s face.
I didn’t blame her. I, too, found it a bit ridiculous.
“Looks like you know what you need to do.” House made a wringing motion with her two hands.
I pursed my lips before speaking. “I do wonder whether she knew her killer before that day or if she actually met the person on that trip.”
“Most likely a man: an extremely charming one,” House said. “Piper was pretty, probably received a lot of attention, and the right kind could have caused her to lower her guard.”
“She also traveled alone. Solo travelers are usually open to the idea of doing something with other travelers.”
House nodded in agreement. “Cost saving could have brought them together. How did they get to the park from the Sausalito? Bus? Taxi?”
“The girl from the hostel mentioned a bus, but I don’t think this was about saving money. She met someone she took a liking to, and they decided to travel to Muir Woods together.”
“I would suggest that perhaps the death was accidental, and the person is on the run out of fear. But I saw that axe.” House paused. “Looked pretty darn intentional,” she finally said.
“Sure did. I don’t even think the killing was a spur of the moment thing. I think the killer spotted Piper and decided she would be the victim.” I quickly filled House in on what I had learned at the medical examiner’s office.
“So you have a guy who’s killed before. He likes girls, tall pretty ones. If you want, I can run a check and see if we get a hit for other tall, pretty girls found dead, axe or not.”
“That would be helpful.”
“Makes sense to me,” House said as she took a sip of her latte.
“The strange thing is, nobody has stepped forward with any information. I have no witnesses—which is unusual considering the park ranger who took me to the site said the trail was a popular one.”
“It’s the damn media. Unless the news is sensational or a hot topic, they pay it no attention. I bet most of the people there that day don’t even know they were hiking around a dead body.”
I agreed with House on that one. I needed to get the Taylor case some media love. Someone had to have seen something. “I’ve got an axe, and that’s it. According to the forensic people, they found plenty of DNA from the girl but nothing to suggest another person, except we know she didn’t just axe herself.”
“Nope.” House nodded as she sat back.
“There’s something else,” I said as I scratched the side of my cup with my fingernail. I filled House in on Kang’s two homicides and his collector angle.
“What’s the connection? Timing?”
“That, and the idea that Piper’s killer has killed before.”
“But you said the woman’s finger was removed, and the man had his teeth pulled. Piper had no visual mutilation. Did the ME find something?”
“No. That’s where it breaks down. Unless…”
“What?” House said, her words hanging.
I thought about what Kang said, about his guy being a collector. There had to be more, something bigger than the taking of body parts. And that’s when it came to me.
“Unless it’s not about collecting but about staging. Gold teeth left in a pan. Staged. According to the report, they found the woman sitting on a bench. Could she have been propped up that way? A hiker killed in a beautiful clearing instead of hidden away in the brush. Maybe this is about presentation. A performance.”
House took a deep breath as she pondered what I had said. I knew she would call bullshit if she thought it. That’s what I liked about her. Business was business and our friendship was our friendship.
Her eyes shifted back on me after a few seconds of staring out the window. “That’s a wild theory… Wild enough to be true.”
I thanked House for her time. She had proved to be a great sounding board, and I had a new angle to pursue.
Chapter 15
Fay Park was located on the west side of Russian Hill on Leaven
worth Street between Lombard and Chestnut Street. I had walked by it twice before realizing the immaculately groomed backyard with the white gazebo I kept passing really wasn’t someone’s backyard but the park. A closer inspection revealed a tiny sign near the small, gated entrance. Mental note: Things I love about this city—they have tiny, quarter-acre parks sandwiched between homes.
The park was gorgeous and had, not one, but two white gazebos separated by a rectangular plot of grass with inverted corners. Four symmetrical plots of blooming flowerbeds surrounded each gazebo. Two sets of stairs led down to the second level, where there were rose gardens. There were a few benches as well, but the one that caught my eye was located on the first level between the two stairs. It’s where the body was found.
I sat on the bench and understood why the victim loved to sit there. The view was idyllic and peaceful. I wonder how the killer found out about this park or how he even came upon her. Certainly he didn’t happen by and say, “Hey, I think I’ll kill that lady.” If she had fallen asleep, it would have been the perfect opportunity. But the park was small and not well known. I found it hard to believe that the killer had happened upon her by coincidence. Had he spotted her earlier and followed her home? How long did he watch her? Days? How did he know she walked her dog every night? He knew her routines. He stalked her.
And what about the cutting of the finger? I stood up and looked around, hoping something might pop out. He had taken her finger with a diamond ring but none of her other jewelry. I pulled out my phone, pulled up the report Kang had emailed over and scanned it until I found what I was looking for. Interesting. For some reason, I assumed it had been her wedding ring finger that had gone missing. It wasn’t.
Kang said the victim lived two houses up, so I searched the report and found the address. The street number was odd, so she lived on the left side of the street. I counted two houses and stopped in front of a beautifully renovated, two-story Victorian with a very ornate, colorful, wood-trimmed façade.
The home sat high, away from the sidewalk, with stairs that required three switchbacks on their way up to the front door, mimicking the famous crooked street nearby. It was beautiful, but I couldn’t imagine making that climb every day. As I admired the residence, something sparkly in one of the lower hedges directly in front of me caught my eye. I moved in closer for a better look. Holy moly! I found myself staring at a large, diamond ring. It was on a finger.
Could it be? I moved a few branches and answered my own question. It had to be the victim’s missing finger. But why leave it here? Why would the killer risk coming back to the victim’s home to plant the finger? It makes no sense.
If the killer had indeed placed the finger here, it felt more in line with the gold teeth in the pan. Both victims had suffered body mutilation with the body part moved to another location, away from the body. Was the body part the killer’s objective or was the kill? Was the removal of the body part a way to prolong the kill? He was trying to make a statement, but about what, I wasn’t quite sure. It was a strange way to communicate, but riddles from killers aren’t unheard of.
Still, that’s not what I thought the staging of the body parts was trying to do. And why did I continue to think Kang’s killer also did my hiker? Aside from the medical examiner’s findings and my hunch, nothing more connected the two crimes. Unless…
I pulled out my phone and dialed.
“Kang, here.”
“Kyle, you’ve got it turned around.”
“Abby is this you?”
“Yes, it’s me. Did you hear what I said? The motivation—it’s wrong. Your guy isn’t collecting.”
“What is he doing?”
“He’s thrill killing.”
Chapter 16
I wasn’t far from the Central Precinct, so I told Kang and Sokolov to meet me at the vic’s home while I waited for CSI to show and process the scene. The detectives were speedy and arrived in ten minutes. As they approached, I pointed to the bush.
Kang leaned in and immediately reeled his head back, his expression soured. “I can smell it. How did you know to look here?”
“I didn’t. I was looking at the victim’s home when the sparkle from the ring caught my eye. I’m assuming your guy placed it here.”
Kang stepped out of the way, and Sokolov moved in for a look. He wasn’t fazed one bit by the slightly decomposed limb. “Good catch,” the Russian said.
“That’s it? Good catch?”
He shrugged as he looked at me. I had inadvertently riddled the man.
“It’s the victim’s middle finger. There’s symbolism behind it.”
“He’s giving us the middle finger?” Kang asked.
“Close. Look at the house. It’s a renovated Victorian, picture perfect and probably photographed by every passerby. The way the killer placed the finger on the bush, it’s as if it were giving the home the middle finger.”
“Wait, I’m confused,” Kang said, lumping himself in the same camp as his partner. “Earlier you talked about thrill killing, and now you’re talking about a middle finger.”
“Serial killers can be categorized by their motives. Hedonistic is one of the categories. Killers that fall in this category derive immense pleasure from killing.”
“So our guy loves killing.”
“Exactly, but not any type of killing. There’s no sex, so he’s not driven by lust, and he doesn’t rob his victims, so it appears that money isn’t a motivator. He’s killing for thrills. He enjoys causing fear and even pain in his victims. He likes to see their eyes before, during, and after he kills them. It’s most telling.”
“Sounds like a real bastard.”
“Very much so. It’s all about the kill itself. Once it’s over, they move on. So they can be very opportunistic or specific. It depends on their moods or their urges.”
Kang rested his hands on his hips. “Okay. Say I buy into the thrill kill angle. Why go through the extra trouble of cutting off the finger and placing it outside her home?”
“I struggled with that exact same thought but it dawned on me. Victorian homes, the gold rush and redwood trees are all symbols of San Francisco.”
“That’s how you’re tying the three cases together?” Kang said a bit flippantly.
“It’s how I am now.”
Both men stood quietly, not saying a word. I was losing them. I couldn’t fault them; they were looking at the facts and it sounded like I kept switching my thoughts on the killer’s motivation. I had initially bought Kang’s theory that the killer was a collector, but it was mostly because that’s all they had, and it was a good start.
Finally, Kang cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Agent, are you sure you’re not trying too hard to tie your case to ours?”
“Positive.”
Kang shifted his weight. His expression told me he was finding it difficult to keep an open mind to the case. “Okay, then I think you need to help us out here. You’re asking us to change our motivation based on your hunch that all three victims have the same killer. Honestly, I’m not seeing this thread.”
“That’s because you want a thread where A plus B equals C. The mind of a killer doesn’t necessarily work that way. If someone collects things, they don’t normally leave it someplace else. They take it with them. Cutting off a body part and leaving it elsewhere isn’t collecting.”
“It is still mutilation, and that’s what connects our two cases and makes your hiker the third wheel. And, if I might add, you sound irritated that we’re not taking your word as gospel.”
Bite your tongue, Abby. Their fault isn’t with you; it’s their lack of knowledge. I let out a breath and responded with as much control as I could muster. “That sort of statement usually comes from people who think they know everything. I expected better from SFPD’s finest. Remember, your department reached out to us for our expertise with serial killers.”
At that point, I began to wag my finger at them like they were children. Probably a little overboard,
but he had pissed me off. “This isn’t a random shooting or a gang-banging incident, so investigating it like it is one is exactly why you’re having a hard time grasping my methodology that ties these three cases together. So I’m—”
“This has gone far enough, we don’t—”
“Do. Not. Interrupt. Me.”
Sokolov stood stone-faced, while Kang’s face showcased a range of emotions from shock to resentment. I should have been able to contain the situation and not let it get to that point. But I honestly didn’t expect this sort of pushback from Kang. He didn’t come across as the typical detective. He had smarts. They both did. Maybe that’s why it irritated me. “Look, I’m sorry. We all want to catch this guy, and I know it seems like we, or I, might be grasping, but trust me, there’s sound thinking behind what I’m suggesting.”
The two detectives looked at each other, then back at me. “Go on, Abby,” Sokolov said. “We’re listening.”
I’m not one to shy away from admitting I’m wrong. I’ve been wrong plenty, but I’ve been right more. And my gut told me I was right about this one. “Let’s get back to the SF tie-in: gold rush, redwood trees and Victorian homes. This is the connection, not your body mutilation and not three murders in a specific time frame. San Francisco is what connects these three victims.”
“So he could be making a statement about the city through things that represent San Francisco.”
“Right. The Painted Ladies are a huge tourist attraction. Victorian architecture is as much of a part of this city as the hills are. It’s what gives the city its charm.”
“So our guy doesn’t like Victorian homes, and this is his way of saying it,” Kang continued.
“I think you’re in the ballpark.”
Sokolov snapped his fingers. “Panning for gold. The teeth in the gold pan are his way of paying homage to the San Francisco gold rush.”
“Yes!” I said, pointing at him. “And the hiker. Well, the tallest living thing in the world is a redwood tree. The ones in Muir Woods are protected and can’t be chopped down, but our guy found something else to chop down.”
Russian Hill (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 1) Page 6
