An Unkindness of Ravens

by European P. Douglas

  “Fingers crossed,” she said. She thought they would, but she always felt anxious during these hours between finding all the evidence and identifying the perpetrator. She looked at the park around them and wondered if he was somewhere in here. It would be a good hiding spot if he knew what he was doing when it came to the outdoors, but something told her he didn’t have any supplies with him. How far could he have gotten without a car from here? She went over to the police officer in charge.

  “Have patrol cars swept the roads adjacent to this area?” she asked, “If he was on foot, it would take him a long time to get anywhere. He could be hurt himself.”

  “We did a sweep once we saw the state of the car, and park rangers are doing a search within the park for us,” he said.

  “So, how did he get out of here?” she asked, more to herself than the officer.

  “Might have hitchhiked?” he suggested.

  “Covered in blood?” Malick said. The officer looked embarrassed but didn’t answer him. This worried Sarah now. Was it possible he’d hijacked a passing car? Was someone else in danger right now? Were they already dead? She shook her head; there was no point thinking like this at the moment. She walked back to the car and opened up her laptop and called up a map of where they were.

  They didn’t know exactly how long the car had been here, but it was a safe enough guess that it was discarded not long after the body had been dumped on the Rappahannock River. Even injured, the killer could have walked to any number of small towns, or even as far as Charlottesville, within twelve hours of the car being abandoned. She doubted this had been what happened. She leaned out the window and called to the officer in charge,

  “Did your men ask locals if they noticed any clothes stolen from clothes lines or work sheds?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, “But I’ll check for you.” Sarah nodded as she saw him talk into his radio.

  “What do you think?” Sarah asked Malick, who was standing outside the car looking around.

  “I think he’s local to the area, knows Palmyra, and knows this part of the park. If the car wasn’t such a mess, I’d say he was trekking across the forest to throw us off, but honestly, he seems so crazy I feel he might have just gone home.” Sarah nodded at this assessment. She could imagine him there now, sitting in clean clothes and what? What would he be doing? Waiting for them to come and get him? Everything about this was odd.

  Sarah’s phone began to jangle in her pocket just as the officer walked over to the car. It was from ASAC Daniels, and she knew it was going to be something good.

  “It’s Daniels,” she said to Malick, “Head him off,” she nodded to the approaching officer and Malick walked over to intercept him. Sarah pulled the car door shut and answered the phone.

  “Brightwater,” she said.

  “We have a fingerprint match,” Daniels said. “Start heading for Charlottesville. The address will come over the wire in a minute. Local PD has not been informed as of yet. I want you two first on the scene to coordinate things.”

  “Got it,” Sarah said. Malick was walking back to the car and she nodded for him to get in. Daniels was still talking to her as he got in.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said hanging up the phone.

  “We got him?” Malick asked.

  “We’re going to get him right now,” she said, starting the car. “His name is Des Roche and the idiot ran an FBI background check on himself only six months ago!” His prints had been sitting in the Automated Fingerprint Identification System waiting to be found.

  “Local PD enroute?”

  “Not yet. We get this one ourselves,” Sarah said, relishing the idea of taking this man down.

  “Excellent,” Malick said, “It’s been a while since I got to do this for myself!”

  This is only part one, Sarah thought as they sped out of the National Park. Let’s hope it will help lead to ‘The Baptist’ before he could strike again.

  Chapter 7

  It was a short drive to the address in Charlottesville, and they pulled up a block from the three-story apartment building where Des Roche lived. Malick had advised the local police what was happening and they had two patrol cars nearby for backup. He stressed that the officers understand they were only there to stop the suspect from escaping.

  The street was quiet and Sarah was glad of it. She hoped this was going to be a simple arrest, but the suspect, if he was at home, was clearly not in his right mind right now. That made everything unpredictable and nothing could be taken for granted.

  They both studied the photograph on the laptop in the car and the description that came with it. He wasn’t a big man, but at five foot eight and stocky he could be strong enough. The woman he’d killed was bigger than him, so that had to be taken into consideration.

  “How do you want to do this?” Malick asked.

  “The cops have the back covered, so I say we go check out the building, and if it looks ok, we just go to the front door,” Sarah said. Malick nodded.

  “Nice and simple,” he said, “Just like you!” Sarah smiled at the insult.

  “You just let me do the talking, understudy,” she said, smirking and getting out of the car.

  They walked up to the building and went in through the open gate. It was a concrete slab of a building and didn’t fit well in the neighbourhood at all. There was a drained pool with warning barriers all the way around it to stop people from falling in. All in all it looked like a grim place to live. They split up and did a half circuit of the building and met back where they started.

  “I didn't see a way out the back unless he’s a real good climber,” Malick said.

  “Same on the other side,” Sarah told him, “So the front way we came in looks like the only way out on foot.”

  They went up the stairs to number 17, and both saw from the top of the stairs that the door was slightly ajar. Without a word, both now pulled their guns. Sarah nodded to indicate she was going to go have a look, and Malick took aim at the doorway.

  Sarah stepped lightly on the tiled floor and passed to the far side of the door, trying to get a glimpse inside as she did. Unfortunately, all she could see was a small section of the floor and the end of a radiator. There was no way of telling if anyone was at home from her glance. She shook her head to indicate this to Malick as she pressed herself against the wall near the door. Then she motioned that she was going to push the door open. Malick nodded and crouched to a shooting position.

  “This is the FBI,” Sarah called out. “Desmond Roche, if you are in there, please make yourself known.” They waited a moment, but no noise or answer came back. Sarah leaned in and pushed open the door, retracting her hand quickly. The door creaked open, and Malick indicated that there was no one in the hallway. Sarah took a deep breath and stepped into the hallway.

  Her gun was held out in front of her as she took some small steps, controlling her breathing as best she could. There were two doors in the hallway, one to her right and one straight ahead, and both of them were open. She peered into the first room and saw that it was the bedroom. There was an old dresser with a mirror, and it afforded her a good look into the room. There was a small portion she still couldn't see, but it looked clear. Glancing at the other door for any sign of shadows or movement, she ducked into the bedroom with her gun aimed at the area she’d not been able to see. There was nothing there. She dropped to one knee and looked under the bed before rising again quickly. There were no other hiding places in this room.

  “Bedroom is clear,” she called out.

  “Got it,” Malick answered. His voice close enough now that she knew he was in the hallway. She moved back to the door and their eyes met.

  Now he took the lead, indicating to her that he was going through the next door. She nodded and held her gun up. She would be right behind him. He leaned his head to the left and she would be going right. They’d done all of this before, many times.

  The hint of shadow fell in the hall for too brief a moment
for Sarah to react to it before the shot rang out. Malick was thrown forward through the door and into what would turn out to be an all in one kitchen and living area. His blood sprayed the walls and floor as the bullet exited his body. Sarah reacted instantly, firing three shots into Des Roche’s upper body before he even saw her. He crumpled to the ground groaning, his gun clattering onto the tiles and sliding away from him.

  Sarah dropped to her knees and checked on Malick. There was still a heartbeat, but it was weak. She called for the backup and an ambulance and rubbed the back of her partner’s head gently.

  “You’re going to be fine,” she said, only realising now that she was crying. The whole time she’d had her eyes on Roche, and now she stood and walked towards him with her gun aimed at his head. She could see his hands and they were empty, but at that moment she didn’t need much of a reason to put another bullet in him and finish him off. She stayed like this until the uniformed officer came rushing up the stairs and took over with Roche.

  Sarah holstered her gun and bent down to Malick again. She took his hand and watched in horror as his skin turned a horrible pale colour. There was a lot of blood on the ground and he was not conscious. But still his heart beat lightly.

  Sarah looked from one shot man to the other, hoping that they would both survive. If only one did, though, she needed it to be Malick. She couldn't believe Des Roche had set this trap for them, and that they had fallen for it. Where had he been watching them from? How long had this door been open waiting for them to come in?

  The EMS team arrived and Sarah made sure they came to Malick first. Des Roche was secondary in her concerns right now. They worked on Malick, saying a lot of things Sarah had heard many times in the past. It didn’t mean anything to her at this point. It would only be later when she would know that he’d either survived or he hadn’t. Now was that waiting period again. What she hated most in the world.

  Both men were still alive when the ambulances took them away. A uniformed officer bearing the name ‘Parker’ on his badge set a tape cordon around the apartment and he guarded the door until forensics could get there.

  Sarah pulled a pair of gloves from her back pocket and put them on. She would do an initial search of the place for now. Make some notes and observations. The place was sparsely furnished, only a sofa, coffee table and an old TV in the living room side. The kitchen had only a microwave and toaster on the counter. It didn’t look like much of a life.

  Something flashing caught her eye, and when she looked, it was the phone answering machine. There was one message waiting to be heard. This could be a lead on who this man knew. She took out her cell phone and turned on the recorder before pressing play on Roche’s machine.

  The voice that came on was grating and metallic sounding, filtered through some kind of voice altering device or software, and she felt sick at the sound of it.

  “They’re coming for you now,” the voice said, “They’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Chapter 8

  Despite having been shot three times, Desmond Roche was first to be declared stable by the hospital staff. He was in the ICU, but it was likely he would survive and be moved to a lesser ward in a few days. At least this lead hadn’t been lost, Sarah thought, forcing herself to see the bright side of it. Roche may well know who ‘John the Baptist’ was. She smiled ruefully at thinking of the killer with that name all the time now. She couldn't wait to tell Malick about it once he was conscious again. If he ever was.

  Malick had been in emergency surgery for over four hours now, and there was no news on how he was doing or what the hell was going on up there. Sarah had called his wife, Tara, to tell her what had happened and she had arrived in an FBI car, in no fit state to make the drive from Washington herself. She’d brushed past Sarah when she arrived and didn’t even talk to her. No doubt Sarah was the easiest person to blame in her mind. It was easy for Sarah to blame herself too.

  The waiting was killing her, and she called the office a few times to see how things were progressing. Des Roche’s phone records were being gone through to find out where the tip off had come from and if that number had called him before. She felt a buzz of excitement through her when the number was traced to an old closed down bank north of Charlottesville. There had been no calls on that line for years, and the phone company records said it had been disconnected a long time ago.

  An FBI team surrounded the building and when it was stormed they found a phone in the basement sitting in the middle of the room. The floor around had been disturbed with perhaps a mat or some sheet over it, but no footprints were found in the dust and there were no fingerprints on the phone or other evidence of a recent user.

  The operation finally finished another three hours later and Sarah watched from a short distance as the doctor told Tara the prognosis. Sarah couldn’t hear it, but the fact that Tara didn’t break down was good news as far as she was concerned. He was alive; that was all she could ask for at the moment. It had been a bad wound and she hadn’t thought he was going to make it to the hospital. She felt a great surge of emotion wash over her and she rushed outside where no one could see her crying.

  Sarah laughed at herself for crying at the fact he was alive. How ridiculous that was. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. It was late now and she should probably start thinking about getting home. Malick was in good hands and there was nothing she could do here for him anyway.

  As she drove home, Sarah was glad at least that what she considered to be the sideshow was over. They could focus on the ‘Baptist’ now, the real case as far as she was concerned. The quiet in the car was pleasant, but she felt so tired. All she wanted was to pull over and go into any motel for six hours of straight sleep. The thoughts of her own bed were more comforting and this spurred her on.

  “Not long now,” she said, passing a sign for Washington and Baltimore. Her phone buzzed and she looked at the screen in the dashboard. It was a text message from a number she didn’t know. She read the message as it scrolled across the backlit screen: Sorry about the tough day you’ve had. I have some information that will definitely interest you. Can we meet tonight? The same bar? Tyler

  How the hell did he get this number? She looked at the time. She was too tired to think about it, and her curiosity made it easier to just type back yes. She would meet him in forty minutes and give him ten minutes to say what he wanted to say. Then it was off home to bed for her.

  Tyler was at the bar with a bottle of beer for them both when she came in. She took it with a nod of thanks but didn’t take anything from the bottle.

  “What do you need to tell me?” she asked, getting straight to the point.

  “Is your partner going to be OK?” Tyler asked.

  “Should be,” Sarah said, “So what do you want?” He smiled.

  “You’re in a hurry.”

  “Yes, I am.” Tyler looked around and then spoke softly.

  “I think I’ve been contacted by the killer,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I got a letter yesterday afternoon that I think is from the killer.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “He knew there was a second body in Whitney Forest before it was even found.”

  “He said that in the letter?”

  “No, but he did mention the second body, and the post mark shows it was posted before the body was discovered. He knew!” Tyler said.

  “Where is the letter now?” she asked, “Did you go to the police with it?”

  “It’s safe,” Tyler said calmly, “and no I didn’t go to the police. I was waiting to talk to you.”

  “Why?” Sarah didn’t know what he meant.

  “Haven’t you thought about this?” he asked. She didn’t answer but just waited for him to go on. He shook his head in what looked like mild disbelief and then went on. “Don’t you think it strange that a serial killer would start dumping bodies in what is essentially Warrenton, and at the same time you were on duty for such things?
” he asked her.

  Not for the first time that day a wave of nausea sent a shudder through her. This time, however, it was an old familiar feeling. One that always came with thinking about Dwight Spalding. She was sure this was what Tyler was getting at. She didn’t want to play along though. Not yet at least.

  “I think it’s coincidental at best,” Tyler said and then, as though to water down her feelings, he added, “I don’t necessarily think this has anything to do with Spalding, but it could well be someone using him as a spur against you.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “Getting pleasure from dredging up old pains in you. Making you go back to your home town because of some murders.”

  “Did he mention any of this in his letter?” Sarah asked. This was hurting her badly, but she was hiding it well. Of course some of the things he’d said had occurred to her, but as of yet there was no evidence to back this up.

  “No, it was a spare enough letter, not much to go on.”

  “I’m going to need you to turn that letter over to me,” Sarah said in her officious tone.

  “I will,” Tyler said, smiling, “But I don’t have it with me right now.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Safe,” he said taking a sheet of paper from his pocket and handing it to her. Sarah took this and looked at it. It was a scanned copy of the letter.

  “There could be a multitude of evidence on the paper or the envelope,” she said angrily. “This is worthless to me.”

  “This is all there is of worth,” he countered, “You think ‘John the Baptist’, who is so careful and neat in his work and cleans the bodies so meticulously, is suddenly going to start handling envelopes and paper without gloves on? There won’t be a speck of evidence on the letter and you know it!”

  “But...”

  “And before you start, there will be nothing special about the paper or the ink either. They will both be the most commonly found in any newsagents or corner store.”