Stone Cold Heart

by Laura Griffin

  “Yes, Diana was the archer,” Kelsey said, getting the conversation back on track. “But I still don’t think it has to mean anything, even if it’s real gold. Maybe whoever bought it simply liked the design.” She looked at Alex. “We’re talking about a piece of jewelry found in one of the pits at White Falls Park.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m here about. You have a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s go to your office. I need to set up my laptop.”

  Sara led Alex into the small office she shared with her coworkers. Now that Kelsey had returned from vacation, it looked as cluttered as usual. Sara moved a stack of files off a chair and pulled it over to her desk.

  Alex took the seat and quickly booted up her computer. “Okay, I’ve been investigating that drone footage you found online.”

  “I didn’t find it. One of Kelsey’s anthro students did.”

  “Well, whatever. I’ve been looking into it, and it’s more interesting than I first thought.”

  “How so?” Sara sat down in the chair beside her. The image on Alex’s screen showed the video clip that had presumably come from a drone camera high above their worksite.

  “Whoever posted this started on Twitter. It came from two accounts. Then people saw it, and it went viral with users in this area.”

  “People who know White Falls Park.”

  “That probably accounts for a lot of them,” Alex said. “And then when the media got hold of it, it was shared on a much larger scale.”

  “Okay. So?”

  “So I’ve been looking into the original two accounts, and a few things stand out. First, both accounts were created last Sunday morning.” Alex leveled a look at her. “Think about that timing.”

  Sara thought back to Sunday. She’d spent Saturday night at the motel and gotten up early to meet Nolan at the park.

  “What time Sunday morning?” she asked Alex.

  “Shortly after eight. Both accounts.”

  Alex turned her computer to face Sara, showing her an account of someone named Goldilocks432. She opened another screen showing a second account, WondrGurl. No photo images on either account—only a generic silhouette.

  “You’re saying these accounts didn’t exist before then?”

  “That’s what I’m saying. And this video is the only thing that was posted to them. In other words, they seem to have been set up for the express purpose of spreading this video. And then—even more peculiar—these two accounts were deleted.”

  “When?”

  “Two days after the first video went up.”

  “Then how do you still have this?”

  “I was tipped off before then and started my investigating, so I archived everything. You can’t totally erase your tracks. There are still digital footprints.”

  Sara shook her head. “Don’t you have to have followers to get people to see you?”

  “Right. But there are some ways around that,” Alex said. “For example, you can post things elsewhere that drive people to find you and look at your post, which is probably what happened here. And then, once other people start spreading the images on multiple platforms, it can take off.”

  Sara stared at the screenshot, a bird’s-eye view of her team’s dig site. The actual video footage was worse—a thirty-second clip that ended with a close-up view of the decomposed skull, complete with flesh and tufts of hair.

  “I really hate that this video is out there,” Sara said. “Can you imagine if this was your daughter? It’s such a violation of this family’s privacy, and they’ve already suffered a terrible loss.”

  “I know.”

  “And the way the camera closes in on her . . . it’s almost voyeuristic.”

  “It is voyeuristic,” Alex said. “And that’s part of the reason I’m here. Whoever did this is sick, and he’s getting off on this kind of attention.”

  Sara frowned. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, look at the timing. He knew about the excavation very early. Indicating he’d heard about it through the rumor mill versus the news, meaning he’s probably local. And his purpose seems to be drawing attention, in particular, media attention, to this murder. And he went to a lot of trouble to cover his digital tracks.”

  “You’re saying . . . you think he might be the killer?”

  “Hey, I’m not a profiler,” Alex said. “I’m just saying it’s possible. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to Mark in cybercrimes.”

  Sara looked at the screen. “I will. I’m seeing him this afternoon, actually. I’ve got a meeting with him and the detectives from Springville to go over what we know so far.”

  Alex lifted an eyebrow. “By ‘Springville detectives,’ I assume you mean Nolan Hess?”

  “That’s right. Nolan mentioned he knows you.” Sara tried to keep her tone neutral, but she could see Alex’s smirk. “What?”

  “How is Nolan? I haven’t talked to him in a while.”

  Sara’s mind flashed to Nolan’s intent brown eyes the moment before he kissed her.

  “I don’t know. Fine, I guess. Although I’m sure he’s stressed by everything happening in his jurisdiction.”

  Alex studied her face, no doubt looking for more. “Nolan’s a good guy,” she said. “One of my favorite people, actually.”

  Sara nodded. “He seems nice.”

  “Nice? That’s it?” Alex grinned.

  “Okay, he’s hot, too.” She smiled as she felt her cheeks reddening. “What do you want me to say?”

  “You don’t have to say anything.” She closed her laptop, still grinning. “I think the look on your face says it all.”

  • • •

  Nolan surveyed the tall white columns as he mounted the Delphi Center’s front steps. The building was bigger and more imposing than he’d expected, and he felt like he was entering the Supreme Court. He’d thought the place would be clearing out by Friday afternoon, but the lobby was busy with Delphi employees, as well as law-enforcement types like himself. Nolan went straight to the front desk, where he’d been told to get a visitor’s badge.

  “Nolan Hess,” he said, showing his ID.

  As the receptionist looked him up on the computer, he caught sight of Sara crossing the lobby. The last time he’d seen her, she was in dirty coveralls, standing in the center of a chaotic excavation site and dispensing orders to her team. She looked a lot more composed today in a crisp lab coat with her name embroidered on the front pocket.

  She stopped in front of him. “Thanks for coming, Detective.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Detective?”

  She turned to the receptionist. “Could I get a visitor’s badge, please?” She glanced at Nolan. “Isn’t Talia coming?”

  “She’s five minutes behind me.”

  Nolan clipped on his visitor’s badge as Sara looked past him.

  “Well, I don’t see her, but she can find us.” She turned to the receptionist. “We’ll be in the first-floor conference room, so send her back, please.” Another glance at Nolan. “Right this way.”

  He followed her, half amused, half irked by her formality.

  She passed a coffee shop and a bank of elevators before turning down a corridor. Stopping at the first door, she knocked softly before entering. The windowless room had a conference table and an oversize whiteboard.

  “I reserved the room starting at four, but looks like we’re the first ones here.” She pulled out the chair at the head of the table and set down an iPad.

  “Who else are you expecting?”

  “Mark Wolfe, who’s in charge of cybercrimes.”

  Nolan took the chair to Sara’s left, so he could keep an eye on the door. “Cybercrimes?”

  “Cyber profiling, to be specific. He used to be in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. I hope you don’t mind that I asked him to weigh in on the case.”

  “Sure, good idea.”

  “What is?” Talia asked as she walked in. She wore black pants today and had a visitor�
�s badge clipped to her pale blue shirt.

  “Talia, hi,” Sara said. “I asked one of my colleagues to join us.”

  A tall man stepped into the room, and even without knowing his background, Nolan would have guessed he was a fed. He wore a suit and tie and gave a brisk nod as Sara made introductions.

  Like Nolan, he took a chair on the far side of the table, facing the door. The seat put him opposite Talia, who seemed less than thrilled with his presence. She wasn’t obvious about it, but Nolan had worked with her for years and knew all her tells.

  “So, you used to be at Quantico, huh?” Talia pretended to be impressed. “How’d they lure you down to Texas?”

  “My wife lured me,” he said. “We met down here when we were working a case together.”

  Nolan was surprised by the candid answer.

  “Is she with Delphi?” Talia asked.

  “She’s a detective in San Marcos.”

  Nolan could tell his answer scored points with Talia.

  Nolan shifted his attention to Sara. “You said you had some news?”

  “Several important developments.” She tapped her iPad and brought the screen to life. A few more taps, and then she slid the tablet to the center of the table. Nolan recognized the photographs on display.

  “We received confirmation this morning from our cordage expert here at the lab,” Sara said. “The bindings recovered on Sunday with the remains of Alicia Merino are made of the same twine that was used in two cold cases from Tennessee.”

  “The same twine?” Nolan asked. “Or do you mean the same type?”

  “The same twine from the very same roll. Our expert was able to match the material through forensic fiber analysis.”

  “We’re dealing with the same perp, then,” Talia stated.

  “In all probability, yes.” Sara nodded at the tablet. “It looks like the same unidentified subject, or unsub, could be responsible. As you can see from the date stamps on these photographs, the bodies were recovered five years ago. The same purple twine used in all the bindings makes me think the roll is part of his murder kit.”

  “Damn.” Talia looked at Nolan. “And you checked into this, right? The cops on these cases have no leads?”

  “Nothing fresh,” Nolan said. “I talked to them Wednesday, and they sent me some of their paperwork. No strong suspects. They had a persons-of-interest list they were working on at one point, but nothing came of it. And when I combed through, no one jumped out at me.”

  “You reran all the names?” Talia asked.

  “Every one of them. No Texas connection that I could find.”

  “Another important piece of news,” Sara said, “is the report from our tool-marks expert. After examining the vertebra, he believes a wire or garrote was used on Alicia Merino.”

  “Like the Tennessee cases,” Nolan said. He’d been hoping the link wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny.

  “Wait, a garrote?” Talia looked from Sara to Nolan.

  “It’s a wire or cord with handles on the end.”

  “I know. I’m saying that’s not your everyday murder weapon.”

  “It’s unusual,” Nolan agreed.

  “And the last bit of news,” Sara said. “We got an ID on one of the two victims from the burial site. Lisa Ryan. She was in the system, so we were able to get a quick turnaround.”

  “Which system?” Nolan asked.

  “NamUs. This woman went missing fourteen months ago up in Dallas, last seen by a coworker as she was leaving the law office where she worked as a file clerk. At the time, her family provided a DNA sample and dental records, so we were able to get a quick hit.” Sara’s gaze settled on Nolan. “She went missing on April thirtieth.”

  “You’re sure?” Nolan asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  Talia looked at him. “What’s the significance of April thirtieth?”

  “That’s a week before Kaylin Baird disappeared.” Nolan sighed.

  “You don’t look surprised,” Sara commented.

  “I’m not. That date reinforces my case theory.”

  “And what is your case theory?” Mark asked, speaking up for the first time.

  “I think Kaylin was in White Falls Park and witnessed a body being buried or some other criminal activity that made her a target,” he said. “I think this unsub saw her and went after her, probably killed her right there or maybe grabbed her and took her elsewhere, then dropped her backpack in another park to throw off investigators.”

  Silence settled over the room, and Nolan looked at Sara. From the start of this thing, they’d been thinking along the same lines.

  “What about the others?” Mark asked.

  “They came later. Instead of burying those bodies, looks like he pulled into the park, made a quick turnoff, and dumped them off a cliff into a wooded ravine. So he changed his MO after Kaylin, probably decided that digging a grave, even a shallow one, was too risky. He had to find a quicker way to get rid of them.”

  “Do serial killers do that?” Talia looked at Mark. “Change things up like that? I thought they liked to stick to a script.”

  “Generally, it’s more important to get away with their crimes, whether they stick to a script or not,” Mark said. “These guys evolve, refine their technique. However, the killer’s signature stays the same from one crime to the next.”

  “Explain the signature,” Sara said. “I’ve never really understood how that’s different from MO.”

  “The signature is about some emotional need that’s satisfied from committing the crime, and it’s the same every time,” Mark said. “Maybe he needs to tie the victim up, control her, inflict pain before he takes her life—which is the ultimate act of control. The MO—the way he picks up his victim, where he takes her, where he disposes of the body—that can evolve over time as he gets better at his work.”

  “His work?” Talia shuddered. “That’s messed up.”

  Mark nodded. “I don’t disagree.”

  “What’s wrong, Nolan? You seem skeptical,” Sara said.

  Nolan leaned back in his chair. “The five-year time gap bothers me. Serial killers don’t just stop. Not unless they’re dead or in prison.”

  “It might not be a gap in killing, just a gap in us knowing about it,” Sara said. “For all we know, he left Tennessee and went to another state or down to Mexico for a while, then found his way back to Texas.”

  “Agreed,” Nolan said. “But let’s assume he wasn’t doing it somewhere else. Let’s assume he was in prison. Maybe he got picked up for assault or burglary or, who the hell knows, check fraud. Point is, he might have done time.”

  “Which would mean we have his prints and DNA,” Talia said.

  “Exactly.” Nolan looked at Sara. “Any word on that T-shirt you found the other night?”

  “The lab’s still working on it. It’s at the front of the line, but it still takes time.”

  “What’s the technician’s name?” Nolan asked. “Maybe I’ll check in after I finish here.”

  “Won’t help. I already put a rush on it.”

  “Won’t hurt, though, right?”

  “Her name is Mia Voss, and she’s in charge of the DNA lab,” Sara said.

  “Let’s talk about the park,” Mark said. “I think that’s important. He seems attached to that location, which is why—even if your theory is true and Kaylin Baird witnessed him engaging in some sort of suspicious activity there—he continued to use the park as a site to dispose of his victims. The place is very much in his comfort zone.”

  “Maybe he’s a park ranger or some other employee,” Talia suggested. “Would that fit with your profile?”

  “It’s not a profile, really, because I haven’t done a complete analysis,” Mark said. “What I have is preliminary.”

  “Okay, your preliminary profile,” Talia said.

  Mark nodded. “I think the unsub is a white male in his thirties or forties.”

  Talia looked at Nolan. “Now, there’s a surprise
.”

  “He’s physically active, probably engages in outdoor sports, such as hiking or climbing. He has a high school education but not beyond, although he has a fairly high IQ. I’d say he had an abusive relationship with his mother or another important female caregiver, based on the bindings and the sadism—”

  “Sadism?” Nolan cut in.

  “The cases in Tennessee,” Sara said. “I don’t know if you read the autopsy reports, but both bodies showed bruising and several bone fractures consistent with torture over a period of days or weeks.”

  “Weeks?” Talia leaned forward.

  “The bone was fractured but then started to heal itself before death,” Sara said. “He kept them alive for at least a week. I found evidence of the same sort of treatment in the case of Alicia Merino.”

  “That means he has to have a place to keep them,” Nolan said.

  “Somewhere remote,” Mark agreed. “Or at least far enough from neighbors that he doesn’t attract suspicion. Maybe a basement or a cabin somewhere.”

  “Weeks?” Talia repeated, looking at Nolan. “If he took that girl from Sixth Street, she might still be alive.”

  “What girl from Sixth Street?” Sara asked.

  “Grace Murray,” Nolan told her.

  “Who’s that?”

  “She went missing from her cousin’s bachelorette party last Friday,” he said. “The lead detective thinks there’s a connection.”

  “Based on what?” Mark asked.

  “Nothing, except he’s desperate,” Talia said. “He’s got no good leads, so he’s basically grasping at straws. But if he’s right and this guy did take her, then she might not be dead.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Sara collected files from her desk and slid them into her computer bag. She kept meaning to catch up on paperwork, but she kept getting sidetracked with trips to Springville.

  “Heading home?”

  Nolan stood in her doorway, and Sara smiled before she could stop herself. She hadn’t expected to see him again today.

  He shook his head as he stepped into the room.

  “What?” She walked around her desk.

  “That look. You seem happy to see me now. I’m usually good at reading people, but you confuse me.”

  Sara didn’t know what to say to that. She confused herself, too.