MAD AS BELL

by Jeremy Waldron

  The news chopper was still circling overhead, the entire cavalry flooding the area. There were local stations as well as their national affiliates. Everyone was getting in on the action. It felt like I was the last to arrive.

  Squeezing past my colleagues, I pushed my way to the front of the line. Between the gaps of large cottonwood trees, I watched the investigators work but was too far away to make out any kind of details to what I was witnessing. From what I could tell, though, this scene was not being treated like last night’s Jane Doe.

  I glanced to my left and listened to a reporter tell the same story Erin had just told me. To my right was Heidi Mitchell, fixing her hair, preparing to report. Megan Hines’s name was being thrown around, and all I could think about was their silence this last week when it seemed everyone had given up on her but me.

  Where were they twelve hours ago? I asked myself, absolutely livid at how they chased only ratings. Then everything changed when I spotted my first Federal Bureau of Investigation jacket and knew this wasn’t just another crime scene. This was something much bigger.

  Had Archie been right all along? Could there actually be an active serial rapist-killer working the Denver area? If so, could that explain what has been happening to these women? Major crimes was the only explanation to explain why the FBI was here. The department had called them in and asked for assistance. But why?

  I spun around and searched for Chief of Police Gordon Watts and Lieutenant Kent Baker. I needed to see their faces when they admitted a crime had occurred on their watch. It would be impossible for the mayor to deny this one, I thought. But none of that was the most important question. “Who was the victim?” I whispered.

  Details were limited. All we were being told was that the body belonged to one of the missing girls from South High. It remained like that for several hours. Nothing said, nothing done. I couldn’t stop speculating on what happened, who it was, until finally the promised press conference began.

  We huddled in front of the podium with our phones, cameras, and microphones pushed in the police chief’s face. He was surrounding by his lead investigators and a spokesman from the FBI. King was in the pile near the back, but he didn’t risk looking at me.

  Over the course of fifteen minutes we were briefed on several details of what happened. We were told the time of discovery, how the victim was found, where the body was retrieved. After, the chief took questions.

  Someone asked, “Will you be releasing the name of the victim?”

  “The victim is believed to be that of Megan Hines,” the chief responded.

  An eruption of chatter exploded as reporters shouted their follow-up questions.

  “Is Jenny’s disappearance related?”

  “Do the police have any suspects at this time?”

  I listened and kept recording as I was hit with an extreme case of déjà vu. It was like I had been here before. It was like reading passages taken straight out of Archie’s book. This crime had all the makings of a copycat killer. I shot my hand up in the air and asked, “Last night there was a victim in Park Hill whose body never made it to the morgue, is her death related to Megan’s?”

  “Only questions pertaining to this investigation, please,” the chief deflected.

  I followed up, “Are you admitting that Jane Doe never made it to the medical examiner’s office?”

  I felt eyes boring into the side of my head and found the mayor’s spokesperson who had previously warned me to stay in my lane staring with intense, unfriendly eyes.

  The chief said to me, “I don’t have specifics on that case.”

  A colleague next to me asked, “Shall we assume Denver PD is losing the public’s confidence since the FBI has been called in to assist?”

  “Let’s not start on the conspiracies. This is a serious crime we’re investigating, and we’d all like to see this end well. Simple as that.”

  The chief locked eyes with me, as if suggesting I was the one to have started the rumor. The next question, from Heidi Mitchell, surprised us all. “Is it true these girls were involved with older men? Maybe even with a teacher from the high school? Can you comment on the validity of that statement and whether the department has any suspects at this time?”

  The chief took a step back and I watched the spokesperson whisper something in his ear. Then I glanced to Heidi, wondering who her source was inside the department. But a teacher? Could it really be possible? Or was she on a fishing expedition?

  The chief stepped up to the podium and responded, “Our investigators are currently questioning potential witnesses, but there are no suspects at this time. Patrol is currently canvassing the area and we’ll update you on a need-to-know basis. That’s all for now.”

  The chief stepped back from the podium and was swallowed up by his people. I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. The unknown number had me pause, but I answered just the same. I knew immediately who it was.

  “What do you want?” I said.

  Archie laughed. “It’s not what I want, it’s what you want, Samantha.”

  The body I asked him for?

  “Now do you believe there is a predator quietly working the streets of Denver?”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  For hours after the press conference, King worked tirelessly to canvass nearby neighborhoods and the surrounding areas with Alvarez. They talked to joggers, cyclists, and anyone else who might have been in the area, including the transient community who had made homes along the banks of the South Platte. Not a single lead was made. Nobody saw a thing. Even King’s CIs who owed him favors had nothing to offer. Now, back at the crime scene, it was like the murder never happened.

  “Well, partner?” Alvarez gave King a wary look.

  King’s stance widened as he stared in the direction of the floodlights hanging over the crime scene. “Let’s take one more look before Griffin bags up the body.”

  The men moved toward the light. As they walked, King thought about Eva and Jenny. He was still looking for a connection that could lead him to naming a perpetrator, but he didn’t have a solid lead. What could he be missing? There had to be a clue somewhere in this mess. He soon turned his thoughts to Mason, wondering if he could do anything to protect these kids from the monster who seemed to be after them. At this point, he doubted he could.

  King’s cell buzzed with a text message. Technicians from both the department and FBI circled the big cottonwood trees and combed the riverbank, flagging for evidence. Mosquitoes buzzed in his ears as he read the text from Detective Gray.

  Please don’t let me be the bearer of bad news again. That was the worst.

  King swiped a hand over his chin and knew the empty feeling Detective Gray was experiencing. Gray had left before the press conference to tell Megan Hines’s parents of their daughter’s death and bring them in to ID her. Now that the news was out, a frenzy of speculation had begun.

  The news chopper flew overhead. Alvarez tipped his head back and said, “The media will assume the worst and ride the wave until the next big thing.”

  King caught sight of Lieutenant Baker and Chief Watts. They glanced in his direction and turned their backs. King said to Alvarez, “Isn’t that what they do best?”

  Alvarez lowered his gaze and took a step closer to King. “Partner,” he jutted his chin toward the chief, “I should warn you that there are whispers the upper brass are out to make your life miserable.”

  King’s brow creased—this was news to him. “What are you talking about?”

  Alvarez flicked his gaze over King’s shoulders, scanned their surroundings to make sure no one was listening, and said, “I’m talking about your relationship with Sam.”

  “What about it?” King watched an FBI investigator kneel down and photograph something in the grass.

  “I’m hearing that they’re losing trust with you.”

  King didn’t need to know who was spreading rumors, just wanted to know why. Though cops were all on the same side when policing t
he city, each was out for their own careers when it truly mattered. Whether it be medals or publicity they were seeking, King knew who he could trust—or at least he thought he knew. Besides, he didn’t have time to worry about rumors when girls Mason’s age were being kidnapped and murdered.

  Making his hand into a fist, King said, “Sam has never been a problem before, and I assure you she won’t be in the future. Her husband was a cop. Remember?” He paused and stared. “A brother in blue. Just like us.”

  Alvarez’s head hung lower as he sighed. “I know.”

  “But?”

  Alvarez flicked his gaze to where the LT and chief were huddled together. “Gavin was a great cop. But that was over ten years ago. Apparently, his currency is no longer accepted.”

  King leaned in to close the gap between them, feeling the vein in his temple throb with agitation. “My relationship has no direct effect on my police work.”

  Alvarez raised a single eyebrow. “Your record speaks for itself. I know. But someone inside the department is leaking information to the press, and you’re the natural suspect.”

  King’s muscles tensed as he jerked his head away. “Ridiculous.”

  “I don’t believe it, either, but you were there. You heard the questions they were asking Chief during the press conference.”

  “You throw enough shit at a wall, some of it will stick. They’re only guessing at what happened to keep their audiences entertained.”

  Alvarez raised a hand as he talked. “I’m only telling you this because you’re my brother. The last thing I need is for LT to put you on the late show.”

  “Look around, partner,” King spread his arms out wide, “this is the late show. And just so we’re clear, Eva requested to be taken to Samantha’s. I didn’t suggest it, but I’m glad she did. Now we know she might have been an escort.”

  Alvarez touched his forehead. “Did Sam tell you that?”

  King narrowed his gaze and held back the words he wanted to say. The medical examiner caught sight of him and called him over before he could say anything he’d regret.

  “Detectives,” Griffin said, “you’re going to want to see this.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Griffin led the men to where the victim lay. The dirt had been dusted off the top, but Megan’s body remained in the position she had been found—curled into the fetal position, arms falling limp against her thighs. It was the first close-up King had on the vic. Just as it had at the sight of Jane Doe, King’s heart shattered once again.

  Griffin gloved up and glanced to King. “Marital problems?”

  King took his eyes off of the victim and could see Griffin’s humor swirling in her brown eyes. He could appreciate her sense of wit in a time of intense pressure. He liked the way she let him know she heard what he and Alvarez were discussing.

  King said, “More like a lack of sleep.”

  “Too bad.” Griffin shrugged. “I know a good marriage counselor who might have been able to help.”

  Alvarez chuckled. “We’ll keep that in mind. Now, tell us about the victim.”

  “This is only my initial analysis before I send out the blood sample and run the post,” Griffin took her eyes off Alvarez and swung her gaze back to King, “but I know the pressure you’re under to make an arrest so I’ll share my thoughts so you have a foundation to work from.”

  King kneeled next to the victim. Griffin followed while Alvarez remained standing.

  Griffin began by stating the obvious. “White female, sixteen years old.” She locked eyes with King. “I place the time of death no more than twenty-four hours, but probably more like ten to twelve.”

  Staring at the victim, King reminded himself what he was doing twelve hours ago. It was about the time he was dropping Eva off with Samantha before checking out the streets where Bowers said he picked her up.

  “There are no signs of decomposition, but I did find ligature marks around her wrists and neck.” Griffin lifted the victim’s right arm and pointed with her finger. “I’m guessing she died by strangulation.”

  “Raped?”

  “No obvious signs as of now. I’ll have a conclusion for you after I run through my exam.”

  Alvarez stood with a picture of Megan Hines pinched between his fingers. He handed it to King. Even through the dust and dirt and discoloration, there wasn’t any doubt they were looking at Megan.

  “We’ll have her family confirm it’s her ASAP.” Griffin’s expression hardened. “What was the chief thinking, naming the vic at the press conference? She hasn’t even been officially IDed. What a headache.”

  King thought about Alvarez’s previous warning when he turned his head and found Alvarez giving him a knowing look. “These ligature marks are similar to the ones we found on Eva.”

  “Eva?” Griffin asked.

  King filled her in, painting a pretty picture of what happened, making sure to include how Eva escaped her kidnapper’s grip. Then King said to his partner, “Maybe that’s why Megan was killed—he needed to get rid of witnesses?”

  Alvarez shrugged. “Did Eva say there were other girls?”

  King needed to check with Samantha. Jane Doe was still the worst King had seen. It wasn’t clear, either, how many suspects they were looking for—at least one, but possibly two. If two, were they working together, or feeding off of each other? He needed to get Eva to speak to him—give him more to go on before another murder occurred. But having her agree to meet was going to be more difficult now that his superiors seemed to have a target on Samantha’s back.

  “Here’s what I know,” Griffin said. “The media are already speculating this is done at the hands of a serial killer. That’s another reason I don’t like how details have already been released to the public.”

  “One murder doesn’t make a serial killer,” Alvarez said.

  King reminded his partner about Jane Doe. “No, but two girls is only one murder away.”

  Griffin knitted her brows and stared at King as he went on to explain the horrific sight from last night. Alvarez vouched for King and Griffin responded with, “The elusive Jane Doe I keep hearing about.”

  King asked, “You know her?”

  “Everyone has been asking about her. Including Sam.”

  Without letting on that he already knew the answer, King asked, “Then you identified her?”

  Griffin shook her head and smiled. “I’m sorry, Alex, but I currently have at least a dozen Jane Does in the morgue, all of whom are waiting to be identified. But none match the description of the girl you speak of.”

  How could that be? King knew something wasn’t right. “But the sergeant from CSI was there, and EMS picked her up.” He swept his gaze to Alvarez. “He must have written a report?”

  “If he has, I haven’t seen it.” Griffin stood and King followed. She said, “Send me the photographs you took. I’d also like to read the report you wrote up. It’s possible she’s in the morgue and just hasn’t been tagged.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  I had been standing around for the last two hours and I still couldn’t decide if Archie was right. He’d taken my theory that the police were hiding crimes to inflate their statistics and watered the idea until it grew into a monster even I now feared.

  Archie was playing games with me. It seemed like he was one step ahead of us all, and I wondered how that was possible. Had he known Megan’s body would be found? He certainly convinced me he did. Who told him? Or was he guilty all along and was I right in thinking he was scripting his own true crime book? The thought put chills down my spine.

  I glanced back to the crime scene, still lit up by a dozen floodlights, and let my thoughts swirl inside my head. The technicians were still working behind the tall brush and trees, keeping a closed lid on what, if anything, they found.

  I was busy writing my own story inside my head, deciding between headlines when my thoughts circled back to figuring out why exactly I was still here instead of going home.

  N
othing had happened since the press conference and the throng of reporters had quickly dispersed. Not even King was making an effort to glance in my direction. Was I waiting for him? Maybe Archie was right. Everything about tonight suggested it was bigger than anything this city had seen before, but a serial rapist? Could it be possible? Eva made me believe it was.

  I palmed my phone and glanced to the screen.

  The vibrations of my heart could be felt in my ears as I debated whether or not to call Megan’s parents. Even though I suspected the police had informed them of their daughter’s death, I felt obligated to let them know, too. I’d talked to them so many times in the last three weeks, it felt disrespectful to stay away.

  But I couldn’t find it in me to make the call. It was just too hard. Instead, I stayed put, needing to see Megan’s body get bagged up and loaded into the coroner’s van before she went missing like Jane Doe.

  As I leaned against the hood of my car, I expected Archie to surprise me at any second. Didn’t he want to see the crime scene himself? Everyone was here but him. Why? I wanted him to show his face, to prove to me that he wasn’t the person behind these crimes. With each minute that passed, the more suspicious I became of him.

  “Samantha, what are you still doing here?”

  I rolled my neck and found TV journalist Nancy Jordan walking my way. I said, “I thought if I waited long enough, a desperate cop would want to share his secrets with me.”

  Nancy laughed. “I heard what you said to Heidi earlier.”

  I didn’t react, but Nancy’s eyes glimmered with the answers I was seeking. “You know who it is?”

  Nancy said, “She’s not going to tell you who her source is because it’s not hers. It’s Daniels’s. He’s controlling her career and has been for a while.”