Delusions With Murder: A Rilynne Evans Mystery (2 page)

“Not bad for your first couple of weeks here.  How were you able to find the dumpsite so quickly?” he asked, looking around at the pictures already hanging around the room.  “That site seemed pretty well hidden.” 

She had anticipated the questions that would come, but even after all the times she had to make up stories explaining how she came upon things, she still hated lying.  It always made her a little nervous.  “I spent the last few days plotting all of the other dumpsites and making a list of other locations that were similar.  It was the third place I went.  Too bad I didn’t get there earlier, or I might have caught him in the act.” 

Her mind drifted back to the pictures as she hung them.  The victim, James Edwards, had dropped his four-year-old daughter off at her pre-school class, and then was never seen again.  His wife reported him missing after the school notified her he had failed to pick their daughter up, and they had been unable to reach him.

His car was found abandoned just three blocks down the road from the school.  Although the driver side door was left slightly open, there appeared to be no sign of struggle at the scene.  In fact, the only thing out of the ordinary at all was the note left under the driver’s side windshield wiper.  It was a small piece of black paper with the number 8 written on it in silver ink.  These same notes were found at the other abduction sites.  The perpetrator seemed to be showing off, and making sure people were taking a correct count of the victims he claimed.

The look on Mrs. Edwards face when she was told about her husband’s abduction was a look Rilynne knew she would never be able to forget.  Mrs. Edwards, who was eight months pregnant with their second child, had a look of both terror and foreboding.  The gruesome murders had been well publicized, and she did not have to be told of her husband’s fate in the hands of this killer.

The thought of it seemed to be too much for her body to take, and shortly after her interview with the detectives began, she had to be rushed to the local hospital in labor.  Four hours later, Rilynne was informed by the hospital she had given birth to a little boy. She had named him James after the father whom she was sure he would task force, walked in that she realized Ben had left.  The room slowly started to fill up, as the fourteen chairs around the large, oblong table were filled.  Detective Wilcome, a well built man in his mid-forties, was the head homicide detective.  He had been with the case from the beginning, being the detective who investigated to the first murder.  The fact that they had yet another victim, and were still no closer to finding the perpetrator than they had been after the first victim was discovered, seemed to be taking a toll on him.  His sky blue eyes, which had been engaging during the interviews Rilynne had seen him do after the second murder, were now veiled behind dark circles, and he appeared to have lost close to ten pounds.  It was clear to Rilynne that he had put simple pleasures such as sleeping and eating on hold until they caught the killer.

Just as Detective Wilcome was about to speak, someone else entered the room.  “It’s good to see you, Madam District Attorney,” he said kindly.  “Would you care to join us?  We were just about to discuss the case.”  Kristin Greene was the youngest district attorney Rilynne had ever worked with, having been appointed at the age of thirty.  Although two years later, she still did not look a day over twenty-five.  She had long, sleek brown hair that flowed down her back and large green eyes that seemed to twinkle.

“Perfect.  I was hoping for an update.  Please continue,” she replied.

“Well, if he sticks to his pattern, we have three weeks to find him before he takes another victim.  Based on the medical examiner’s report, the victim was strangled with a thin rope like the others,” he said.  “Finding the body as quickly as we did helped us to narrow the disposal window to around two hours after death.  Given the amount of time the killer put into cleaning and dismembering the body, it means the killer traveled no more than an hour to get to this site. Assuming he traveled the speed limit and he knew where the site was prior to disposal,” he pointed at the map, “he’s somewhere within this forty mile radius.” 

Although the site where they found the victim’s body was well out into the woods, the land backed up to the city, which still left them with a third of the population to consider.  “Like the others, this body was washed in bleach after being dismembered.  The medical examiner did find this black sliver of plastic,” he held up a small evidence bag, “ caught in a jagged cut on the left arm.  This tells us he’s more than likely transporting the parts in black trash bags to the site before unwrapping them to bury.  Other than this, the scene was clean like the others.”

Wilcome turned to speak with the district attorney, but stopped just short.  He let his head drop while he took a long, deep breath, though he did not turn back around to face the group.  “It has been a long week.  Spend today with your families; we will start fresh tomorrow.”

It had rained all morning, leaving the ground coated with a thin layer of water as Rilynne jogged the three blocks back to her apartment.  Something about the way her feet sounded slapping against the wet sidewalk always seemed to calm her.  By the time she reached her apartment, she was surprisingly relaxed.

Despite moving in several weeks earlier, the long wall in her living room was still lined with boxes.  She hated unpacking, but knew eventually she would have to get around to it.  After grabbing a bottled water out of the kitchen, she sat down on the floor and pulled the box labeled “Books” towards her. 

Her collection mainly consisted of crime stories, both fact and fiction.  When she reached the bottom of the box, she pulled out a large pale green photo album.  She stared at it for a few moments before opening it.  It was filled with her achievements in life: college memories, graduation from the police academy, newspaper clippings from her solved cases, and awards she received.  The last page held a wedding photograph from seventeen months before.  She stared at the smiling couple for what seemed like an hour before closing the book and placing it in the bookcase with the others.  She would finish unpacking another day.

After searching her kitchen for something to make herself for dinner, Rilynne decided she could not put off grocery shopping any longer.  As she rode the elevator down from the third floor, she stared at her reflection on the doors.  She was petite just like her mother, standing at only 5’3” without shoes.  She also had her mother’s auburn hair and freckles.  Her bright blue eyes, however, belonged to her father. 

She had been only two when he left her and her mother.  He had gone out to pick up dinner one night and just never came back.  They had never found out what happened to him, but Rilynne was sure he was still alive out there somewhere.  Starting about two weeks after he vanished, her mother began getting cash in the mail.  There was never a name or a note left with it, but she was sure it had been from her father.  They would receive a little every few months, and although they had moved around several times, it always found them.   Then when Rilynne moved away to college, the envelopes had started showing up for her as well.

The grocery store was strangely empty for the time of day.  It had started raining again, and people didn’t seem to want to leave the comfort of their homes.  Had it not been directly across the street from her apartment building, Rilynne was sure she would have done the same.  She was lost in thought over the best fruit choices for the week when a hand from behind landed on her shoulder.  She almost dropped the peaches in her hand as she spun around to find its source.

“Hi.  Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.  I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself yesterday, I’m Nicole Benson,” said the slender redhead from the crime scene. 

“Right, you’re a crime scene investigator.  I’m Rilynne Evans,” she responded. 

Nicole was strikingly beautiful, and Rilynne wonder if she had been a model before investigating crimes.  She certainly seemed to eat like one, as Rilynne noticed her shopping cart was full of nothing but health food.

“So I hear you’re new in town.  How are you liking it so far?” she asked as they started to walk together towards the next aisle. 

“It’s nice to have a change of scenery.  Although I’m not used to all the heat,” Rilynne responded honestly.  She had spent the majority of her life living in Wisconsin, where the average temperature during the summer was somewhere in the eighties.  Since moving, she had only seen the temperature drop below one hundred twice. 

“Well, the other detectives have been talking a lot about you.  You have quite the impressive track record.  And judging how quickly you found the body yesterday, I’m not surprised.  I heard the killer messed up and left something behind this time.  Maybe now we can finally catch this guy and get him off the streets.  So, did you move close to here?” 

Rilynne could tell by the fact that she seemed to take no breath between her sentences that Nicole liked to talk.  Although she seemed to be sweet, Rilynne had never had great luck with female friends.  She was always more of a tomboy in a way, and her fascination with crime did not help the matter.  As Nicole was in the same field, maybe this time it would be different.  “I’m actually right across the street,” she answered while pointing to her building. 

“That’s crazy!  Me too, 207.”  Nicole appeared to be struggling to contain her excitement.  Rilynne, who was very down to earth, found it quite entertaining to watch.  “303,” she answered simply. 

By the time they finished their shopping, the rain had stopped, allowing them to walk across the street without getting soaked.  Rilynne thought for a moment Nicole was going to follow her up, but to her relief, she got out on the second floor.  It was great she had befriended a neighbor and a co-worker, but she was going to have to ease herself into the friendship a little.  She was just not accustomed to so much pep. 

She tugged open her freezer, which was empty aside for a large bag of chocolate, and threw in the frozen dinners she had picked out before retreating to the couch with the case file and a glass of wine.  She had already looked through it so many times, she had it practically memorized, but she was sure there was something she had missed. 

The victims were all in good shape and were sure to have put up a fight, but there were no signs of struggle at any of the scenes.  They were fairly certain the victims did not know their attacker prior to the time of abduction, as the fifth victim was a vacationer with no ties to the city and the others paths did not seem to cross in anyway.  There had been evidence the victims were being sedated during the week the killer had them, so the current theory was the killer had been sedating them in order to abduct them without a struggle.  The perpetrator would still have to get them in his vehicle as quickly as possible before they were noticed, leading them to believe he was in good shape himself. 

Based on the amputation of the right leg, the killer had medical training.  The removal was always very clean, with little sign of infection.  The killer was recreating someone in his own life by shaving the men’s heads and piercing the nipple.  He was either replacing someone he had lost, or was unable to kill the subject of his own hatred, so he was acting it out through others.  Rilynne was unsure about this one, solely because of how long the killer kept the victims before murdering them. 

She was starting to get frustrated. 

She had not seen anything that would help her find the identity of the killer.  In fact, the only part of the killer she had even seen was the gloved hand holding the knife.  That did not give her much to go on.  The hand seemed to be wearing yellow, heavy-duty kitchen gloves, which could be purchased pretty much anywhere. 

After taking another quick drink, she grabbed the latest photos and leaned back on the couch with her eyes closed.  She just needed to concentrate.  She took several deep breaths, sitting on the couch for close to twenty minutes, willing herself to see something useful.  She was just about to give up when she started to see quick glimpses flickering by.  With a renewed sense of vigor, she concentrated on what she was seeing.  

A large kitchen cutting board with a knife resting on it, water in a shower running, which slowly started to run red like blood. 
Her heart started to race, this was finally going to be the moment they got this bastard off the streets. 
The next image was of a pair of rubber gloves in the trash, which also were covered in what looked like blood.
  Then she saw it. 
Just under the gloves- a box of red number 6
. 

“Well that’s great,” she said aloud to herself.  “I’m trying to catch a killer, and I’m watching my new neighbor dye her hair.”  She picked her glass back up off the table and finished it, before giving up and putting the file back on her desk. 

A
ddison Valley was tucked deep into the hill country.  Having only one main road in or out, it was comfortably secluded.  With a population just under 20,000, it was the smallest city Rilynne had ever lived in.

She always found moving to a new place exciting.  In a way, you could entirely reinvent yourself and no one would even know.  A stay at home bookworm could become an out every weekend party girl.  Or the shy, nerdy guy could become the mysterious, ladies man who everyone wanted to spend time with. 

For Rilynne, however, she always seemed to fit back into the same role: the workaholic who never seemed to do anything else.  This time, she was determined to make a change.  When she wasn’t at the station, she tried to keep herself out and busy.  Every Sunday she would take her bike out on the trails to the lake where she would sit and feed the ducks while watching the families play.  On Friday nights, she would go to the local bar that the police officers liked to frequent.