Caching Out (15 page)

“Well,
so far the geographical profile has been relatively consistent with both
murders taking place in Shannon County and both victims were at the lake the
day that they were killed.”

Holding
up her hand to stop Tate, Emma asked, “So you think that there are or will be
more victims?  If that’s the case, then you really should invite the Bureau in
since we both know that they have resources that you simply don’t have access
to.”

Shoving
a hand through his dark hair, Tate stared at Emma, his jaw twitching in
frustration. “Em, you know I can’t do that yet. I have a job to do and the city
of Pine Ridge is depending on me to catch this guy. I can’t go crying to the Bureau
every time I have a problem that I don’t have the proper resources for, it’s
not the way that small towns handle crime.” He sighed, “That’s why I called you.
I need your expertise with the profile and then I intend to catch this guy
before he has a chance to kill again.”

 “Okay,
we’ll table this for now. We’ve established that he likes Shannon County and
the lake. So far that’s our only common denominator. What else?”

Relaxing
a little, Tate sat back, “Well the victimology is off. First a woman, then a
male child, with no personal or direct links between Parker and Babcock. By the
way, we are certain that it’s a
he
, ME confirms penetration the usual
way and they also found traces of pre-ejaculate fluid.” Nodding, Emma reached
for her cup again as Tate continued, “The killer’s signature is consistent in
both cases.  Same markings, rape, kill cuts…” pointing to the photo of Saralyn’s
bound hands Tate added, “Same red cording used on both vics and both had
Ketamine in their systems. Our working theory is that the killer uses the drug
to subdue the victims.”

 “So
does the ME think that there was a condom used and that’s why there was no full
ejaculate present?” 

Tate
loved it when Emma went into research mode. Her tenacious memory coupled with
her unrelenting pursuit of the facts had proven her to be an unstoppable force
when working a case. He needed that ability now; he needed Emma. “Nope, there
was nothing to indicate that a condom was used. Appears the guy just wouldn’t,
or couldn’t, finish what he started.”

Emma
looked thoughtful, “Well, there could be a medical problem causing his
inability to ejaculate, you know, like a blocked duct or something. Also there
are studies supporting the idea that a known percentage of rapists have an ejaculatory
dysfunction. That’s not saying that they are impotent. Most of the case studies
present evidence that the perpetrator needed something more before they were
able to complete the act.”

“You
mean like torturing their vic while raping them?” 

“Exactly.
In some cases they need to torture in order to feel in control or powerful. Other
studies cite that a small percentage need help with their fantasy and make the
vic dress up or act in a manner that fulfills their need. Any sign of that with
these cases?”

Tate
rocked back in his desk chair. “None. And with the Parker kill he had time to
do that if he’d wanted to. Another common link with the two cases is that both
Parker and Babcock had been geocaching while they were at the lake.” 

“Geocaching?”
Emma asked. “I read something about that recently, some kind of treasure
hunting right?” 

Tate
turned to his computer and entered the geocaching web address into the browser.
He turned the screen so that both he and Emma could see it. “Says here that
it’s a growing sport both in the U.S. and internationally. Currently the site
claims that they have something like a million participants worldwide. The Babcocks
gave me their log in information for the website and I’ve played around with it.
Seems that you go into the site and enter the zip code for the area that you
want to search and it gives you a list of caches and their coordinates. Then
you enter the coordinates into a GPS and it leads you to the cache. Once you
find it you go back on this website and log your find. That way the cache owner
knows how many people have found his hiding spot and you can track the number
of caches that you’ve found as well.”

Emma
scanned the screen, “You do any research on caches at the lake?”

Nodding
Tate replied, “Yep, and there’s ten hidden just in the lake park and over fifty
in the county. Seems that State Parks are a popular place to hide them. There’s
one hidden at the site where the Babcock boy was killed. Martin and I went out
and took a look at it the same day that the boy’s parents told us about it. Basically
it was a plastic container covered in cammo tape and hidden under some rocks.” Logging
into the website, Tate accessed the Babcocks’ cache log and entered the
coordinates for the cache. “The Babcocks didn’t log the find and there was no
record of Reva and Saralyn finding this one either. Several others logged this
particular cache, so the Babcocks weren’t the first to find it but we do think
they were the last. We took the container into evidence but didn’t pull any prints
from it other than all the members of the Babcock family.”

“So
you think if the killer touched it that he wore gloves?  This guy can’t just
sit in the woods and wait for someone to show up. There’s something that we’re
missing. I want to see one of these caches.”    

Tate
nodded, “Also, if this is the same cache that Parker found the day she was
murdered then she didn’t have time to log the find before he got her. Reva
doesn’t have a computer and said that Saralyn always logged their finds. She
gave us their log in ID but didn’t know the password. The county lab pulled a
report for me from Parker’s computer. They did a back door entry into the
caching site and didn’t find any record of this particular cache. The sheriff
drove Reva out to the Babcock scene and she didn’t recall looking for or
finding any cache there.”

“Maybe
he monitors more than one site. Let’s take a ride out to the scene, okay?”

Tate
glanced at the clock on his desk. “How about we grab some lunch at the diner
then drive out to the lake? We can stop by Parker’s house on the way back.” 

“Lunch
does sound good. Since we’re going out to the lake, let’s enter some of the geocaching
coordinates into the GPS on my phone and take a little hike. I’d like to have a
better understanding of how this works and there’s no better way than doing it
myself.”

Ten
minutes later, Tate and Emma had loaded three waypoints into Emma’s phone. Tate
had just strapped on his service revolver when the door to his office opened
and Martin stepped in. Noticing Emma sitting at Tate’s desk, Martin flushed
with embarrassment, “Sorry Tate, I didn’t know you had a visitor. I’ll come
back.

Tate
smiled as he snapped the leather safety strap over the top of his gun, “Come on
in, Martin. I’d like you to meet someone. Martin, this is SSA Emma Gage-Echo.” 
Turning to face Emma he continued, “Emma this old geezer is Martin Crawley, the
Sheriff of Shannon County.”

Martin
grasped Emma’s extended hand in welcome.

Emma
spoke first, “Sheriff Crawley, it’s nice to meet you. Tate told me about you
and the two cases that you and he are working on. In fact, we were just about
to grab some lunch and then go take a look at the kill sites.”

Tate
bit back a smile. Martin still held Emma’s hand and it was easy to see that he
was totally charmed with the beautiful ex-Mrs. Echo. “Why don’t you join us for
lunch, Martin?” 

Seeming
to recall that he was in Tate’s office and that Tate was in the room, Martin
dropped Emma’s hand and turned to face his friend. “Huh?  Oh, sorry. I already
had my lunch but thanks, anyways. I just stopped by to see if you’d heard back
from the FBI and it appears that you not only heard from them but got one
visiting.”

Sliding
the strap of her bag over her shoulder Emma shared, “I’m here unofficially
Sheriff Crawley, but I do hope that I can help in some way.”

 “Please
call me Martin. I sure hope that you can help us catch this bast--,”  Martin’s
face reddened. “Excuse me, ma’am, I mean, I sure hope you can help us catch
this UnSub, too.”

Surprised
by Martin’s self-consciousness, Emma tried but couldn’t stop the laugh that
bubbled up and Tate didn’t even try to stifle his own laughter. “Martin.”  Emma
said with emphasis on the sheriff’s first name, “I am certainly going to do
everything possible to see that the
bastard
who did this is caught.”  It
was obvious to Emma that Martin had been raised a gentleman. After six years in
the FBI, Emma couldn’t imagine that there was a dirty word that she hadn’t
heard, yet this sweet man was embarrassed to have almost said ‘bastard’ in her
presence. She liked him already.

Clapping
Martin on the shoulder, Tate said, “Stop by the house when you finish your
shift, if you have time, and we’ll bring you up to speed on anything we might
discover. Like Em said, we’re going to visit the murder scene out at the lake
and while we’re there we’re going to do a little geocaching ourselves. We don’t
know for sure that it relates to the murders, but at this point we don’t know
that it doesn’t either.”

Saying
his goodbyes, Martin agreed to stop by Tate’s on his way home.

CHAPTER 24

Walt
Mabry climbed into his ten-year-old pickup right behind King. The German
shepherd had been a gift from his late wife more than five years ago and Walt
rarely went anywhere without him. Pushing a button on the door, Walt lowered
the passenger side window half way because King liked to ride with his nose to
the wind.

In
the seat between man and beast lay his old hat, some sunscreen and his new
birthday gift. Talking to the dog as much as to himself, Walt laughed, “Damned if
Jules wasn’t right.” This GPS thing is more fun that the metal detector and it
sure beat that treadmill she was always trying to get him on. “People walking
on those things and never going anywhere makes about as much sense as all those
folks who run in the park when nobody’s chasing ‘em.” Walt reached over and
ruffled the dog’s ears. “Whatever happened to the good old days when you worked
all day, came home to a meal cooked by a pretty woman and watched some TV until
bedtime, huh, King?” Barking his agreement, King turned back to the half-open
window.

Walt
turned his truck onto the bumpy unpaved road, then reached over to steady his
new GPS up on the dash, watching the directions as he drove. Avoiding deep ruts
and potholes the size of a small pond, Walt kept one eye on the GPS and one on
King as he bounced on the bench seat of the old truck. A couple miles farther
down the dirt road, Walt pulled over to the road’s edge in what looked like the
closest place to get out and walk toward the treasure. Opening the truck door,
he grabbed his hat.

“To
hell with that sun stuff, huh, King?  Jules is too fussy. Took after her mama,
she did.”  Jules insisted that he take sunscreen along anytime he was planning
to be outside, lecturing him about skin cancer and anything else she thought he
didn’t know. “Both my girls fussed too much, King. Good thing you’re a single
guy.” Plucking the GPS from the dash, Walt said, “Come on, King. Let’s go find
us some treasure!” 

With
a yip, the dog jumped from the truck seat and followed as Walt led the way. Not
bothering with a leash, Walt knew that King would stay at his side and together
they climbed the small incline to the rocks above. Following the cursor on his
GPS, Walt circled one large boulder then another. The climb was steep, but not
impossible. Small beads of sweat popped out on his face and Walt stopped to
wipe them with his sleeve before bending over to look under the rocks for the
hidden cache.

Fifty
yards away, Gavin’s computer beeped and the familiar pop up appeared on the
screen. “What the hell?  All I can see are shoes and rocks!  This shit cannot
be happening again.”

Closing
his computer and grabbing his jacket, Gavin sprinted to the edge of the thick
piney woods. Sucking in deep breaths of pine infused spring air, he willed his
heart to slow.
It’s all good Gav…don’t freak out. Maybe you’ll get a chance
to fix the cam.
 

Standing
under the cover of the tall trees lining the roadway, he watched as an old man
and a large dog climbed slowly toward the cache. The old man stopped to mop the
sweat from his face and Gavin wondered if the man was going to make it up the
hill.

“Damn,
I didn’t think anyone would come after this one so soon. I should have checked
that camera this morning.” 

Gavin’s
need was so great that he’d almost convinced himself that coin or no coin, this
cacher would be the one, but he knew that he couldn’t make that choice. Only
the coin could decide. It would choose and Gavin would take great pleasure in
bowing to its choice. Moving closer to the road’s edge, Gavin squatted, hoping
to avoid detection. He continued to watch the old man.

Sensing
or maybe smelling another human in the area the huge dog raised its head. Gavin
swore that the beast looked right at him. Peeking through the thick underbrush
growing at the base of the trees he whispered, “Dog’s going to be a problem,
Gav.” 

Pulling
a faded yellow margarine container from its hiding place, Walt sat down on the
large rock that the cache had been hidden under and popped the top to see what was
hidden inside. So far, he’d found two other caches this morning and he’d taken
something from them both. From the first cache he’d taken a pick that was
topped with an American Flag and from the second cache he’d taken a one dollar
lottery ticket. The tiny flag now waved from the sun visor in his truck and the
lottery ticket had been a two dollar winner.