by Rick Murcer
Manny continued. “You’re looking for someone who seems to be on a mission to eliminate or eradicate a certain people type with the possible physical attributes I mentioned. I also suspect you’ll find more in common for the four victims than just the crosses and their deaths.”
He glanced at Sophie.
“What he means is that they may have all had a place they hung out. They may be drinkers or baseball freaks or swingers or drug addicts. Whatever. They may have all been in a familiar group or groups. We think the crosses could be a link to that, but they could mean more than that. Hell, they could even be some misdirected reverse symbol of his completed mission.” she added.
There was no hint of her usual smart-ass vernacular. Sophie and serious didn’t always register, but it did now.
“Completed mission? You mean instead of taking a trophy from his victim, he places a cross on them?” asked Ellen. “To what end?”
Sophie shrugged. “He may feel guilt and think that the cross protects them into the next life. He may just like how it looks on their bodies. If he hears voices, the voice may tell him to do it. Or, if he has help, doing it because he’s told to. We’re not sure. But if you find the source of those crosses, Old Blue Eyes and I think you’re getting real close to solving this thing.”
Williams reached down and ran his hand along Beaux’s head and ears.
“I’ll make sure you have the rest of the written profile at your fingertips so you can get it out to your officers. A thousand eyes are better than a few.
“We’re as sure as we can be about this profile. But we don’t always nail them. There’s no guarantee that there won’t be some variance to what we’ve told you, especially if there’s a partnership. But, we’re confidant of much of this profile.”
He looked to where Brice was sitting beside Bella and the other two detectives. “Killers like this one don’t change MOs. They refine them and get to where they believe is perfect, but their basic methods exhibit a twisted need created deep inside. This killer has killed the women differently than the man. Like he’s less angry with them. But not so much that he’ll stop his mission. Females are perceived obstacles to whatever he’s trying to accomplish as well.
“One more thing. There was a pair at both locations. Highly irregular. And something we’ve only seen once. We also can’t overlook the fact that his sense of mission has been accelerated, probably by some traumatic event for him. He can’t cope normally so he’s doing what he knows can comfort him. He kills.”
Agent Williams scanned the group with those blue eyes.
“I get a little windy on these things but I want you to understand where we’re coming from. So, I’ll finish with this. Despite what you may think you know, no serial killer truly wants to be caught. We’ve had one or two who taunted us, but their narcissism didn’t let them believe they’d be captured. Make no mistake, our killer did not give those limbs to the CSU. Someone else did. I’m wondering if the killer even knew they were missing from the victim or how badly the male victim was disfigured.”
“You have questions of dumping bodies versus placing bodies. Either way, I don’t think this killer could handle two at once.”
“What the hell does that mean?” asked Big Harv.
“Let me finish, Captain. FT Harper is right. There will be another crime scene location for each set of victims. I think that’s were Beaux can help and run those down. In fact, I’m sure he can. They’ll be more answers at those sites.”
Agent Williams took a long breath and then slowly released it. “Given the different set of crime scene facts here, and the physical restrictions I believe this killer has, I actually believe there is someone who knows what he is and where he is. That someone is adding their touch to all of this.”
“That sounds as crazy as a Mexican gopher. Again, what the hell for? To what end?” asked Bella, crossing her arms over her breasts.
He looked at Bella than back to Ellen. “I don’t know. I only know that there are simply too many inconsistencies to say this is the work of one killer by himself.”
Ellen tugged at her earring as she pondered what Manny and she were contemplating as possible. She ran her finger over the file in front of her before she carefully spoke. “So let’s say this is right. Let’s say that the killer is killing with help. What kind of relationship are we talking here?”
“Not the killing itself. I think he’s a legit serial wacko that has to be caught. His killing has escalated, like I said. He’s so intent on accomplishing his mission that I’d venture a guess he doesn’t know that his work, the crime scenes, could have been altered or restaged,” said Manny. “As far as who, it could be anyone. Literally anyone this killer has met over the years. But like most of us, family is our go-to place when things get tough. I’d say a relative or a very close friend.”
“So screwing up the crime scene is just another way of reducing the chances of this guy being put away,” said Ellen.
“I think that’s true,” said Sophie. “And we haven’t seen any of these killers walk up to the door and hold out their hands to be cuffed. They don’t want to be caught. Well, there was one but that doesn’t count here, so you’re right. But finish what you were going to say,” said Sophie.
Ellen exhaled. “Okay. If the scenes are being altered to confuse us or complicate the cases is one train of thought. But what if that’s not true? What if the killer is just a pawn and there’s something bigger going on?”
“Like what?” asked Bella.
“I don’t know. Manipulation has goals of its own, right?”
Manny nodded. “It does. You now have a profile and a bundle of forensic evidence. You need to solve this before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what? A higher body count?” asked Bella.
“That, and the fact that if there is an agenda with someone helping him, you may never catch either one if that agenda plays out,” said Manny softly.
CHAPTER-31
“What should I do? I didn’t expect what happened even if they did deserve it,” asked Henry quietly.
Raymond ran his hand over his now shaved head, feeling the perspiration already forming. Henry, or Hank, as he called him, had always been the little brother that he’d wanted, crazy killing machine or not. Especially after his own brother had died at a young age. Twelve to be exact.
His fingers tightened around the phone.
Some white rich-bitch from the suburbs of Detroit had shot his brother at pointblank range because she thought he knocked on her door to rob her. He was doing a fundraiser for his school and thought he could do better by leaving the neighborhood and going to where people had more money. His brother had only wanted to make things better for his school. Darren had been like that. Heart as big as a truck.
He’d reached into his backpack to get a list of what he was selling and she pulled the gun from her holster and shot him. She said she didn’t mean it. That he’d taken her off guard. That the gun had gone off accidently. She cried that she’d never intentionally shoot a child, even a black one.
A black one?
The woman got off with a slap on the hand and he and his mother had to bury the only real bright light in either of their lives.
But she paid. It took a few years. After he gotten out of rehab with a defined purpose. After he’d met Henry and Amanda. The woman got what she had coming to her and it had been of her own volition, more or less.
The first high had been free. Then, slowly, he’d reeled her in. Six months later, she OD’ed and his revenge was complete. He liked how it had turned out. There was no justice like street justice. After they’d put her ass in the ground, he decided he was going to spend the rest of his life putting people like her in their own living prison. The drug world was as good a way as any to get that done. Plus, the money was outrageous.
“Raymond?”
Henry’s angst was revving higher.
“Sorry Hank, just thinking. This wasn’t part of the plan, at leas
t all three, but what’s done is done.”
“Yes. That’s true.”
“Finish up what you need to do. I’ll be there in ten minutes and we’ll get you and this fixed up.”
“Are-are you going to tell Amanda?”
Damn. He sounded liked a little kid getting home an hour late.
“She don’t need to know, partner. Us men can handle this part.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be there soon, Hank. Like I said, you need to finish up.”
There was a brief silence. The kind that always made Raymond nervous when speaking with Henry.
“Thanks, brother.”
Hank’s phone shut off while Raymond stared at his own.
“Yeah, little brother, that’s what I’m here for,” he whispered.
Standing, Raymond pointed to one of his Lieutenants. “Get in touch with our piece of shit cop friend in that neighborhood. Tell him where to be in thirty minutes. And use the phone I gave you, not your personal phone, got it?”
“Yes sir.”
Raymond then turned and left through the side door of the brick house, patting his shoulder to make sure his Glock was where it should be.
CHAPTER-32
Ellen looked at her watch, then down to her desk to go over a new report from the second crime scene as she waited in her office for Sophie and Manny to put the finishing touches on their profile.
She sighed. Nothing she hadn’t already guessed on the tape residue found around the wrists of the male victim. Good old-fashioned duct tape that could be bought anywhere. Another consistency with the profile that the agents had suggested. This killer had restrained his victims enforcing what Manny had said about the killer perhaps having a physical weakness or at the very least a smaller man.
Cops can say what they want about the Feds, and they usually did, but these two, particularly Manny, knew their stuff, and with that there was no argument from anyone in the room. She was sure he’d hit the killer’s profile straight on the noggin, leaving the CPD with a ton of detail work to review.
It had been ten minutes since the meeting had broken up leaving as many questions as answers. But at least they had agreed to work on a few more specific areas. Those facts hadn’t altered her sense of impending chaos, however. She was beginning to hate these feelings. It’s one of the reasons she’d chosen science and let people like Manny and Sophie get inside warped brains.
Most people didn’t realize how much time it took to examine profiles of past crimes in local data bases as well as ViCAP to see if anyone fit the profile. Not to mention mug shots, camera footage, more canvassing of Chicago’s fine citizens near the cemetery all of the way down to Wrigley Field, and talking to the cold case people to see if anything might ring a bell with them.
Agent Williams had made his point about the killer’s escalation of killing. The CPD would react accordingly.
She sighed. It would be a long night or two in the precincts around the crime scenes and at HQ, but that’s what they got paid for. She and Aaron were about to partake of that deal as well. Good work had to be done in the lab, and quickly. But not before they got something to eat.
Her enigmatic partner would be back with an extra-large pizza soon. She could almost smell the cheese and pepperoni as her stomach growled to remind her breakfast had been her last good meal. Heavenly delight from Demetri’s was a sure way to fix that problem.
After filing the report in her case file, Ellen looked around her office.
Her stomach did another trick. The kind that was somewhere between rollercoaster drop and love flutter. Back in the lab always did that to her. Back in her real world.
Joel’s effect on her insides had been better than the lab when they’d gotten married and now Brice was creeping into that realm. But the lab, well, it had never left her and had been as trustworthy and true as any lover. No complications. No competition. No brooding or drama. They understood one another.
“We’re done.”
She looked up and saw Sophie standing beside Manny just inside her doorway. The two held a contrast in height she’d never really thought about given his over six-foot frame and her five-foot-four or so stature. Another way that they were total opposites, yet almost always on the same page as friends and cops. Strange friend-fellows indeed.
“Great. We’ll get it out to all of the precincts. It should speed up this investigation.”
“That’s the hope,” said Manny. “But like I said, this is our best guess. Traits about this killer and conjecture about this case could be off some. It’s not a perfect science.”
“Yeah, he says that every time. But he’s always pretty damn close,” said Sophie.
“I’ve read your profiles. I think I like your best guess.”
He bowed ever so slightly. “We try.”
This was a refreshing human being. Humble but driven. Hell of a combination.
He approached her desk and leaned toward her. “I’ve read yours as well. Plus, I have this bad habit Sophie calls addictive profiling. I call it I’m-curious-about-who-you-are profiling. I can’t help looking at people and noticing a little of who they are. Anyway, if you ever get tired of the CPD, let me know. You, Ellen Harper, have a couple of gifts of your own.”
“Thank you. I’m flattered, but I’ll be staying here for a while. This is my city.” She tilted her head. “Everyone likes to hear good things about themselves, so what do you mean?”
“I understand staying. It took a special set of circumstances for us to leave Lansing, but we finally did because it was the right time for us.”
He smiled that magical smile again, those eyes sparkling. “As far as the gift thing, I know you trust the science, and you should, but you can trust those other instincts more than you realize. I know you’ve heard it before so I won’t beat a dead horse. I’ll only say that sometimes life’s difficulties cultivate a whole new realm of understanding. You are a talented FT, but might be an even better investigator.”
Ellen let his words settle in before she answered. She stood, walked around the desk, and gave him a grateful hug. “Thank you, Manny. I appreciate all you do. I know you’ve been through some tough times yourself.”
He held her at arm’s length. “A little rain falls in every life. We can swim or drown.” He turned toward Sophie. “I chose to swim, with a little help from my friends.”
Sophie stepped between them. “Yeah, yeah. Everyone knows I saved your ass. You can thank me again later. Damn, these long good byes always make me miss a meal. Not tonight.” She hugged Ellen. “We’re out of here. Good luck. We got some ugly crap to deal with ourselves and I ain’t doing it on an empty stomach. Let’s go Williams.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Ellen watched them disappear out the door and found herself saying a quick prayer for her friends. They’d chosen a different law enforcement path and would need all of the help they could get.
Manny had been right. She could sense this case getting ready to explode. She wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but the air of urgency wasn’t leaving her alone.
Just then, Brice walked into her office, Beaux at his side, a smile painted across the dog’s face.
“Well, we did a little bonding.”
She rolled her eyes. “Only men would call a pee break a bonding moment.”
“Maybe, but there’s nothing like going to the back of the building and lifting your leg, right Beaux?”
“You both peed on the back of the building? Really?”
“Yeah, we did. Right on the tan brick part. There wasn’t always inside plumbing you know. It’s good to get back to your roots once in a while.”
Beaux barked softly.
She waved her hand at both of them “Just when I think I’m starting to understand men.”
“What does that mean?” asked Aaron, rushing through the door. He stepped past Brice and Beaux and slid the hot pizza onto her desk. Her stomach gurgled again.
“Those two can explain it t
o you. I’m eating this pie. Now.”
“That’s my cue to get to work,” said Brice.
“No pizza?” asked Ellen.
“No. It affects my girlish figure, you know.”
“Funny boy. Well, I don’t care if it affects mine or not. I’m eating.”
“I don’t think a few pieces of pizza will hurt you at all,” he answered. Then he winked.
So damn charming these days.
She stood, took two steps, and kissed him on the lips. “Thanks. I’ll talk to you later. We’ve both got a lot on our plate.”
“You’re welcome.” Brice hesitated, then smiled. “Looking forward to hearing what you find and discussing it with you and then some.”
She suddenly remembered his behavior in the car when they’d driven to the graveyard. There was something on his mind but if she’d learned anything about him it was that he’d talk when he was ready. That fact didn’t squelch the quick spike in her nervous anticipation. Or was that anxiety?
“Okay, this is still just, well, nauseating between you two. Can you leave so we can eat and work until the crack of dawn? Just like in the TV shows,” said Aaron, not trying to hide his disdain.
“Okay, Cub Boy. See you two later.”
Brice followed the same path as Sophie and Manny and disappeared. His first stop was to pick up Bella and do some door knocking. Then go to wherever that led. She suddenly wanted to go with him. To hear him speak as more facts were uncovered. Or maybe she just wanted to hear him talk some more.
Shaking off his effect on her, she opened the pizza box and dove in.
Fifteen minutes later, she, Beaux, and Aaron were in her private lab, stomach full and mind recharged, sifting through bags of evidence with completed reports and comments attached to the bags, creating a priority list as they did.
She had Aaron blow up each of the crime scene locations and paste them to four-foot sheets of poster board and place the boards on four separate easels at the front of her smallish room.
Blood and hair samples, along with the crosses, clothing fiber, soil samples, and even mouth swabs had been ordered for each victim. Each item was given a reference number and separated by color coded tabs representative of the types of evidence. Even though all of the evidence bags hadn’t been processed and coordinated with the photos of each area, this would give them a good start at any obvious pattern.
