Dead End (6 page)

8

Evan sat on the edge of the desk in the medical examiner’s office, reading through the autopsy report of Caitlin McGill and last night’s unnamed victim, and waited for the M.E. to finish washing up.

“So the throats were definitely slashed with different blades?”

“Definitely.” The county M.E., Agnes Jenkins, washed her hands at the sink in the far corner of her office. “Not even close. The knife used on the schoolgirls was thin and finely sharpened. The knife used on the unidentified girls was thicker, duller. Different width.”

“What do you think of two different killers?”

She reached for a roll of paper towels to dry her hands.

“I think it’s highly likely. As a matter of fact, I’d bet on it. The schoolgirls—let’s call them the group-one victims, just for the purpose of this conversation—had been, for the most part, still in possession of their hymens before the attacks. Not so the unidentified girls—the group-two vics, if you will. Internal examination showed that these girls were no novices.”

“Prostitutes?”

“That, or they were real party girls.” She frowned. “They were pretty young, though. Hard to tell for certain; their teeth weren’t well cared for and two of them showed evidence of old healed fractures. And all three of them were small, physically. I’d guess from poor nutrition at some time in their life, most likely early childhood.”

“Semen?”

“Not in or on any of them. Both guys wrapped up first.” She rolled up the paper towel and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “It will be interesting to see what we get back from the lab, don’t you think?”

“I’ve asked the chief to okay a transfer to the FBI lab, just to speed up the process. Our county lab is way behind and just isn’t willing to expedite this case over any others in the pipeline.”

“That would be Jeffrey Coogan.” She named the head of the lab and made a face. “He’s not much of a team player. You’ll never get him to put one case aside to work on another. He’s so goddamned anal. Everything in strict order.”

“He’s not happy about giving up the samples, but the chief leaned on him good and hard. I suspect the D.A. might have made a call as well.”

“Sometimes you just have to talk tough with the assholes, Crosby.” She grinned. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“You could get me a copy of the autopsy report on our latest victim.”

“As soon as Mary Ellen out there finishes transcribing my tape, it’s yours. I’ll have her call you and you can stop back and pick it up.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“And you’ll get me a copy of the lab results as soon as the FBI gets them to you?”

“Absolutely.” He hopped off the desk and started to the door.

“Sounds like a deal.” She smiled and turned to answer her ringing phone. “Oh. There was one more thing. Our unidentified girls all had tattoos on their left hips.”

“Tattoos?”

“Little stars. Somewhat crudely made, but they were definitely stars. Three tiny stars, right below the waist at the top of the hip on the left side. What do you make of that?”

“Stars?” Annie asked.

“Right. I’m faxing you a photo right now. Can you see if it matches up with anything in the Bureau files? I tried to scan it into our computer, but once again, the computer is giving me the finger. Some glitch in the firewall, they’re telling me.”

“Go ahead and fax it down, let me take a look.”

“It should be there any minute.” Evan paused, then said, “Dr. Jenkins agrees that we’re dealing with more than one killer.”

He reiterated the gist of his conversation with the medical examiner.

“Prostitutes? Fourteen-, fifteen-year-old prostitutes?” She thought for a minute, then said, “Well, that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Maybe they were tattooed by whoever is putting them out. Then again, they could be gang members. That’s just as likely, don’t you think? Maybe the stars identify them as a member of a specific gang. Or maybe they mark them as the property of a gang.”

“It’s worth looking into, but I have to tell you that I haven’t heard of anything like that around here. I’ll check with Philly, Trenton, Scranton, Camden, Newark, New York—maybe someone will have seen this before.”

“If they were prostitutes, it would explain why you haven’t received missing persons reports. If it’s a gang thing, though, you might still have parents involved somewhere. The girls would most likely live at home. If that’s the case, someone should be looking for these girls, Evan. Still no calls?”

“None. And we’ve told the dispatchers from every community to call us the minute anyone inquires about any one of these kids, but there’s been nothing. I’ll put out inquiries up and down the East Coast, though. See if someone, somewhere, is looking for them.”

“I think the tattoos might help us track them.” She bit at a cuticle, something she almost never did. “I just can’t help but think that somewhere, someone is crying their eyes out over these girls. Someone has to have missed them. These kids have names, they have families somewhere.”

“Well, maybe one of us will get lucky and we’ll find out where that somewhere is.”

“Let me make a call or two and get back to you.”

Annie was searching her desk drawer for the office directory even as she hung up. She found the number she was looking for, dialed, then waited.

“Fletcher.”

“My favorite computer geek.” She sighed dramatically.

“My favorite profiler.” Will Fletcher laughed. “How’s it going, Annie?”

“Good. You?”

“Terrific. Great wedding, by the way.”

“You and Miranda seemed to be having a good time.” She paused, then added, “Especially Miranda.”

“Hey, my girl does love to party. Never met a band she couldn’t dance to.”

“And dance, she did.”

They both laughed, then Will said, “But you didn’t call to talk about Miranda’s happy feet.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could give me a hand with something.”

“This have anything to do with you and Evan looking into Dylan’s death?”

“How’d you know about that?” she asked. “Oh. I almost forgot. The word is that Will Fletcher knows everything. Word is that you have mysterious sources.”

“Not so mysterious. I saw Brendan yesterday. He mentioned it.”

“Evan and I are taking a look at the circumstances surrounding Dylan’s death, but this has nothing to do with that.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m happy to help, either way.”

“Actually, this has to do with a case Evan is working back in Pennsylvania.”

“Those young girls that have been murdered?”

“If you know that, you probably know that they have three victims that are similar but unrelated.”

“I heard a rumor, but no details. Tell me.”

She did.

“So you’re looking to identify the tattoo.”

“For starters, yes. I can fax you a picture of them.” She reached over and studied the faxed image again.

“When do you need an answer?”

“As soon as you have one.”

“Let me get to work on it and get back to you. I assume if I get a hit, you want all available information?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Will. Give me your fax number.”

She wrote it down, then programmed the number into the machine next to her desk.

“It’s on its way.”

“I’ll be waiting for it.”

How did anyone ever get anything done without all of this modern technology? she wondered as she fed the picture into the machine.

Well, they got it done, it just took a lot longer.

Evan’s fax fed through the machine and the buzz assured her the operation was completed. If anyone could trace that tattoo, it was Will Fletcher, whose skills were legendary in the Bureau. She had full confidence that if the tattoo had been entered into the system, Will would find it. She mentally moved on to the next task on her list of things to do.

Find Melissa Lowery.

9

Chris Malone, chief detective, Avon County, was staring out the window, a sheet of paper in his hand, when Evan knocked on the doorframe. Malone turned to look over his shoulder.

“Come on in, Crosby.”

“What’s up?” Evan entered the office and leaned over the back of a leather wing chair.

“Same thing that’s been up. The D.A. has the entire county on his back over this killer who’s running around, snatching the daughters of some of our leading citizens off the street, and we’re all being toasted in the press.”

“Yeah, the parking lot is full of news vans. I had to park down on Fourth Street again this morning.”

“Well, get used to it. None of them are leaving until this is over. Did you see this morning’s paper?”

He walked to his desk and held up the front page of the county’s tabloid.
LOCAL LAW ENFORCEMENT STYMIED. HOW MANY MORE VICTIMS WILL THE KILLER CLAIM?

He turned the page and opened it to the lead story on page three and read the screaming headline. “ ‘Will Your Daughter Be Next?’ ”

Malone tossed the paper onto his desk in disgust.

“And up until this morning, we didn’t have one fucking clue.”

“What happened this morning?” Evan asked.

“This.” Malone handed him the sheet of paper he’d been holding. Evan studied it for a full minute before reacting.

DEAR CHIEF OF DETECTIVES MALONE,

I SAW YOU ON THE NEWS TONIGHT. YOU SAID THAT YOU FOUND THREE MORE VICTIMS OF THIS GUY WHO IS KILLING GIRLS IN AVON COUNTY. WELL, THAT WOULD BE ME. AND I AM TELLING YOU THAT I DID NOT KILL THOSE OTHER GIRLS, THE ONES YOU FOUND IN THE WOODS. THAT IS SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK, IT IS NOT MINE. STOP SAYING I KILLED THEM ALL. I KNOW WHO MY GIRLS WERE AND WHERE I LEFT THEM. THESE OTHER GIRLS, I DON’T KNOW WHO THEY ARE OR WHO KILLED THEM. IT WAS NOT ME.

AND ANOTHER THING. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO GET A SPECIAL NAME FROM YOU GUYS? YOU KNOW, LIKE THE BOSTON STRANGLER, OR THE GREEN RIVER KILLER. I THINK I HAVE EARNED A SPECIAL NAME. I LIKE THE SCHOOLGIRL SLAYER. I THOUGHT SOMEONE AS SMART AS YOU WOULD THINK UP A NAME. SINCE YOU DID NOT, I HAD TO MAKE UP MY OWN. I THINK IT IS A GOOD ONE. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. YOU’LL BE USING IT OVER AND OVER. JUST NOT FOR THESE OTHER GIRLS. WHY WOULD I WANT TO KILL A BUNCH OF NAMELESS NOBODIES? HOW COULD YOU BE SO STUPID TO THINK THOSE OTHER GIRLS WOULD INTEREST ME?

SIGNED,
THE SCHOOLGIRL SLAYER

“You think this is legit?” Evan asked.

“What do you think?”

“He seems pretty indignant that we would assume that the other vics were his. Like somehow he’s above them.” Evan read from the letter. “This whole last part, about those other girls being nobodies . . . he clearly thinks they weren’t worth his time.”

He handed the letter back to Malone. “As if one girl’s life was more important than another’s.”

“He’s certainly implying that.”

“I spoke with Dr. Jenkins a little while ago, right after she finished the autopsy on our last unidentified vic,” Evan told him. “She says the weapon used to kill the schoolgirls is not the same weapon used to kill our as-yet-unidentified girls. She thinks that the physical signs point to a high level of sexual activity on the part of the girls who still haven’t been reported missing, no such activity on the part of the others.”

“So she’s seeing two distinct types of victims, two different killers.”

Evan nodded.

“I also took the liberty to discuss the case with one of the FBI’s profilers, Dr. McCall, and she—”

“The same Dr. McCall who accompanied you to the D.A.’s fund-raiser last month?”

“Ah, yes.” Evan had forgotten that Malone had met Annie at a party to raise money for the district attorney’s reelection campaign. “Right.”

“What was her take on all this?”

“She feels pretty strongly that there are two different killers. She’s working up a report for us.”

Malone pointed to the letter, which was still in Evan’s hand. “Think she’d be able to look at that and give us her thoughts? Any chance we could meet with her? If nothing else, we can tell the press we’ve brought in the FBI.”

“I can ask her. You may have to go through the Bureau, and they’ll probably want to send some of their own agents to work the case.”

“I’ve already resigned myself to bringing them in. It’s a tough call, since there are so many police departments involved. On the one hand, it looks like we’ve got every PD in the county on this, and this guy is still dancing around us. Doesn’t look good, you know what I mean? Looks like we have no confidence in our local people.” Malone reflected on this for a moment, then added, “On the other hand, if we’re being outsmarted at every turn by this guy, and we don’t ask for help, we look like stubborn fools. At this point, I feel we need all the help we can get. I hate to say it, but without a suspect, without any leads—hell, we don’t even know where he’s killing these girls. We’re just finding them where he leaves them.”

“I’ll call Annie and see when she’s available.” Evan couldn’t help but be pleased at the prospect of working with Annie again, even if it was only for a consult. He hadn’t been able to see his way clear from this case to figure out when they could spend time together. The thought of even one night with her was a gift, despite the tragic circumstances.

“One more thing. Jenkins noted that each of the three unidentified victims had three stars tattooed on her left hip.”

Malone’s head snapped up.

“Gang members?”

“Maybe. Maybe a pimp, branding his property.”

“Any history on these tattoos?”

“I didn’t recognize them and couldn’t find anyone who did. I already faxed the photos of the tattoos to the FBI. Apparently, there’s someone on staff who’s really an ace at tracking down stuff like this. Annie says if it’s in the system, they’ll find it.”

“Good move. And you already sent the samples from the lab down there as well?”

“I did, as soon as the lab director agreed to release them. Thanks for stepping in there.”

“Coogan can be a hard-ass. Sometimes you just have to remind him who’s in charge. In this case, it would be the county D.A. He had no problem getting Coogan to see things his way.”

“Whatever it took. I’ll just be happy to see a little solid evidence. It’s frustrating to gather all those samples, all that potential evidence, then have to wait weeks to see what’s what,” Evan admitted.

“In this case, a few weeks could mean the difference between life and death for another young girl. Or two. The killer has definitely put us on notice. He’s not finished.”

“What are you going to do with the letter?” Evan pointed to the paper in his hand.

“I’ve already sent the original to a handwriting analyst at the FBI—you’re not the only one with contacts, you know.”

“How do you propose to respond?”

“Well, I was hoping Dr. McCall might have some thoughts on that.”

“I’m sure she will. But in the meantime—”

“In the meantime, I’ve sent letters to every school in the county, advising parents and school officials that until this guy is caught, no one’s daughter is safe. Your kid goes no place alone, checks in with the parents, and reports any suspicious activity. Anything, from anyone. And if she’s not home when she’s supposed to be, the first call the parents make is to their local police department.”

“Tough talk.”

“Can’t be tough enough. This guy has killed five young girls—all daughters of well-off, influential county residents, so that just adds to the colossal heat we’re taking. This last girl was the daughter of the next-door neighbor of one of the town supervisors in Broeder.”

“I heard about that.” Evan nodded. “My sister’s fiancé is the chief of police down there.”

“Right. Sean Mercer. He’s got the local politicians and a passel of reporters crawling up his butt over this, so of course he’s crawling up mine. Not that I blame him, but it isn’t as if we aren’t trying to track this guy. We just don’t have much to go on.”

“How much are you going to make public?” Evan asked. “Are you going to let it be known there are two killers? Are you going to release the letter to the press?”

“Not yet. Right now, I don’t want to change the status quo. I’d really like to wait to see what Dr. McCall has to say. Maybe she’ll have some insight into whether silence or publicity is to our best advantage. I don’t want to throw something out there only to have it bite us in the ass later on. Let’s get the best advice we can before we act. For now, just proceed as you were. Keep the letter under your hat, for now. And let’s sit on this two-killer thing until after I’ve spoken with Dr. McCall.” Malone drew a hand through the thinning hair on top of his head. “The one thing I do want is every department in this county on alert. I know everyone’s been on this, Crosby; don’t jump on me. But I want every available man on the street.”

“Chief, it’s impossible to cover all these private schools. They’re in this county, they’re over in Landro County. There’s no way we can cover all these kids.”

“No, but we can cover them when they get back to our jurisdiction. So far, he hasn’t hit any town in Landro County. He’s confined his work here, in Avon. That could mean something, maybe not. Who the hell knows what this guy is thinking, what sets him off, what makes him go after one girl and not another? For now, the best we can do is to warn parents to keep their eyes on their kids and make them understand the danger, that to a certain degree they are going to have to be responsible for themselves and for their friends.”

“Let’s hope the lab results are back soon and give us something. Right now we have nothing.”

“And he knows it. Bastard knows that right now he has us chasing our own tails, and he’s enjoying it,” Malone told Evan. “Let’s see what we can do to ruin his fun before he kills again.”

At Annie’s suggestion, Malone made his request for FBI assistance directly to John Mancini, who headed up a special unit within the Bureau to handle sensitive cases. John personally reviewed the files, which had been messengered to him overnight, before assigning three of his top agents to the job.

“Shouldn’t take you more than a day or so,” he said to Annie while authorizing her to provide an analysis of the killer’s psychological profile to the chief of detectives in Avon County. “What’s on your calendar right now?”

“The Ohio case. A case out in Michigan. Something that came in last night from Oregon; I’m taking that with me to read on the plane. I have a meeting in Seattle next Tuesday. Otherwise, I’m okay.”

“Great. See if you can shed some light on this case.” John pushed his chair back from his desk, his habitual nonverbal notice that the meeting had concluded.

Annie stood and gathered her bag and her briefcase, noting that John’s job was clearly taking its toll.

“You okay, John?”

“As okay as I’ve ever been, I guess.”

“Genna okay?” She asked, referring to John’s wife of two years.

“She’s fine.” His eyes narrowed. “What’s with the interrogation?”

“You just look a little tired, that’s all.”

He laughed. “When have I not been tired?”

“You just look a little more worn-out than you normally do.”

“It’s just the job, Annie. But I appreciate your concern.”

“Maybe you should be the one going to Pennsylvania and out of here for a few days.”

“Well, actually, I’ll be doing just that. Genna’s got that cabin out on that lake up in the northeastern corner of the state, you know. We’re supposed to go for a week, starting on Tuesday.”

“Do it. Make it your priority. Don’t let anything come between you and that time off, John. Seriously. I can’t remember the last time I called this office and you were on vacation.” Her voice softened. “You need the time, John.”

“You been talking to my wife?”

“Just looking out for you, pal.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” John told her. “You keep in touch, and have a safe trip.”

“You, too.”

She left John’s office and headed straight for her own on the seventh floor. She was gathering up files she’d left on her desk when Brendan Shields appeared in her doorway.

“Hey. Where’s the fire?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m on my way to Pennsylvania to look into that serial killer they have on the loose, and I need to take some of these notes with me.” Where was the file she’d started with her own notes on Dylan’s case? She checked her briefcase and found she’d already tucked it away.

“I heard Mancini’s sending a couple of agents up there,” he said. “I heard Miranda Cahill, Mike Hoffman, and Kevin Muller were going.”

“Oh, great. I love working with all of them. I should check with Miranda and see when she’s leaving. Maybe we can fly up together.”

“She’s in Maine right now. I think she’s heading down there tomorrow.”

“Word travels fast around here.”

Brendan shrugged. “I had lunch with Will a while ago. Miranda called him while we were eating.”

“I can’t believe how incestuous this place is. And how quickly news travels.” She laughed and added one more file to her briefcase. “Gotta run.”

Brendan backed into the hall to allow her to pass.

“See you when I get back.” She stepped around him and started down the hall, then stopped and turned around. “By the way, do you know an agent named Melissa Lowery?”

“Name sounds familiar, but I can’t place her. Why?”

“She was on the scene the night Dylan died, but her report is missing from the file.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“It probably dropped out at some point, or got stuck to something else and misfiled. Happens all the time.”

“Anyway, I was just wondering what was in the report, if she might remember what she’d written, but no one seems to know where she is.”

“I can ask around, see if anyone knows.”

“Thanks, Brendan.” She smiled and resumed her quick trot to the elevator, calling to the woman who was just about to enter the car, “Hey, could you hold that for me, please . . . ?”