Consumed (2 page)

I looked back down at the photos in front of me. The page contained copies of numerous photographs. All the photos appeared to be of female bodies missing arms and legs and in various stages of decomposition. The backgrounds of the photographs appeared to be alongside roads in rural areas. I looked over a few close-up photos of the ragged cuts that had removed the appendages. Some of the women’s throats were slit. All had various knife wounds.

“Do we know who these women are?” I asked. “Or were, I should say.”

“We have two IDs that we got from dental records. The third was just found yesterday, and we don’t have an ID yet. The two women we have are a Brittany Colwell and a Rhonda Oakley. Neither woman had a current address. The ones listed on their DLs were old. However, both had priors for soliciting in Nashville, and both old addresses were in the area. We got nothing on either as far as a ‘last seens’ or ‘reported missings.’ All three bodies were found in Clarksville County, about an hour away from Nashville. We’re pretty certain that our killer is picking the women up in Nashville, though. The pair of women who we have identities on both had priors, and addresses came from there.”

“What’s our time frame on these bodies being found?” I asked.

“All three were found in the last ten days.”

“Where were the bodies found in the past?” Beth asked.

“All in Clarksville County,” Ball said.

“So we’re thinking that it’s someone who lives in that county?” I asked.

“Hard to say,” Ball said. “Our guy could be picking women up in Nashville, where he lives, and dumping them out in the country away from his house, or it could be the exact opposite—he could live in the country and travel to the city to acquire the women.”

“So two recent with IDs and one without. And that’s it since the nineteen eighties?” I asked.

“Sort of. The bodies technically aren’t the whole story.”

“Okay,” I said.

“It gets significantly worse than just the dismembered bodies,” Ball said.

“Great,” I said, sarcastically.

“Flip a few pages into that file. Stop when you see bones.”

Beth and I did.

“Okay. I got bones here.” I looked down at the photos in the file. The picture showed what looked like two-to-three-inch sections of bone laid out and photographed on a table. Beside the photograph of that was another with a ripped-open black garbage bag along the side of a road.

“Yeah, found it,” Beth said.

“Those bone sections were also found in Clarksville County, along the side of the road about a year ago. They are human, and the bones are from arms and legs. We can’t really get any more information from them other than that. We can’t say specifically how old they are and can’t get DNA.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

Ball let out a long breath. “Forensics report shows that they were cooked.”

My stomach turned. “Cooked? Are you trying to say we’re dealing with a cannibal?”

“I don’t know. What we do know is that the cut markings on the bones are consistent with the markings on the remains found. Forensics thinks it’s a wood saw.”

I shook my head. “So where are we going, and what is the plan?”

“You two are flying to Nashville. You’ll stay there and commute to your stops in Clarksville County. I want you to make contact with the Nashville police force and have them watching the high-traffic areas of prostitution. From there, you’ll meet with the Clarksville Sheriff’s Department and our Clarksville resident agency. We have another resident agency in Nashville that you can contact if you need to, but the Clarksville office is the one the investigation belongs to.”

“Does the sheriff’s department have any insight into this?” I asked. “I mean, if this all happened on their turf over the course of thirty years, you would think someone there would—shit, I don’t know—at least have a hunch about something.”

Ball shook his head. “Thirty years ago. Most of the original deputies would be retired or, well, you know, moved on to greener pastures. I’m sure there is someone around who remembers something about the original investigation, though.”

“All the victims have been female?” I asked.

“Yes,” Ball said.

“And every victim was a prostitute?” Beth asked.

“We don’t know one hundred percent,” Ball said. “But two out of three of the most recent were, and the few IDs we have on the victims from thirty years ago also were.”

I flipped through the file further, trying to find some of the older information on the investigation. “How many total victims are we looking at, here?”

“Back in the eighties, they found six women. We have the three now. The bag of bones came out to eight appendages—four arms and four legs, so two more there.”

“So… eleven that we know of,” Beth said.

“Appears so,” Ball said. “Though we can’t rule out that this is a copycat. A local could just be recreating what I’m sure has turned into a local legend around there.”

“Either way,” I said. “There is someone in the area doing it. Where is the main office in Tennessee?”

“Memphis, three or four hours away from where you guys will be,” Ball said. “It doesn’t make sense to work from there. As I said, Clarksville has a resident agency, but it’s small—Nashville’s isn’t much bigger. You won’t have things like a forensics team, tech center, or anything like that at your immediate disposal—you’ll have to rely on the sheriff’s department or the Nashville PD. Of course, we’ll help you from here as much as we can.”

“Got it. When are we headed out?” I asked.

“Tomorrow morning. Jim will get all your travel arrangements taken care of and call you with the details. That’s it. Take your files, get acquainted with the investigation, and call me when you get there tomorrow. You two can take off for the night.”

Ball ran a hand through his gray hair and crossed his arms over his chest. From his demeanor, I could tell he was waiting on Beth and me to leave. We walked from the meeting room and headed toward our desks. I rolled open my desk drawer and grabbed my car keys.

“Looks like it’s me and you on the road again,” Beth said. “I’ll try not to almost get killed.”

I nodded and flashed her a smile. “I’d appreciate that. Guessing I’ll meet you at the airport in the morning sometime.”

“Sounds good.” Beth grabbed her things from her desk and left the office. I followed.

The drive took me the better part of an hour to get home. Over the past few weeks, I had come to enjoy my time fighting through traffic. Since my wife had turned over the car-buying duties to me, I’d liberated myself from the hot-pink hybrid I’d been driving and picked up a nice, new black lifted four-door Jeep Wrangler. I felt that was a good choice as the four-wheel drive would help in the winter months. Karen related my purchase to the first time parents left teenagers home alone and them throwing a party and trashing the house. I’d shrugged off her comments.

I caught the time on the Jeep’s radio. Karen should have been just starting her drive home. I figured then was as good a time as any to break the news that we wouldn’t be heading to Tampa for the weekend. I dialed her cell phone, and she picked up within a few rings.

“Hey, I’m just leaving the office now. What’s up?” Karen asked.

“I call bearing bad news.”

“Ugh,” she said. “What?”

“I’m getting sent off to Tennessee tomorrow morning.”

“Really?”

“Really, really. We have one out there, and Scott and Bill are on something else.”

“You and Beth again?” Karen asked.

“Yup.”

“What time do you have to leave?”

“Not sure yet. Jim is going to call with all of my travel arrangements.”

“Okay, well, find out as soon as you can. I have an early meeting, and if I need to take you to the airport in the morning, I might have to reschedule it.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I can just drive there and leave the Jeep in the lot.”

“Do you really want to leave it there for a week or however long you’ll be gone?”

“Not really. We can swap vehicles. You can take mine for the week, and we can leave your truck there.”

“I think that’s a better idea,” Karen said.

“Okay. We’ll talk about it more when you get home. I’m just pulling up now.”

“Sure. I’ll be home in a bit.”

“All right. Love you,” I said.

“Call Kane and tell him.”

“I will.”

“Okay, love you. Bye,” Karen said. She clicked off.

I drove into the driveway of our townhouse and pulled off to the side. I hit the button on the remote control clipped to the visor to lift the garage overhead. The suspension lift on the Jeep wouldn’t allow it to fit inside the garage. I killed the motor, grabbed the file on the investigation from the passenger seat and stepped out. I walked through the empty garage and slapped the button on the wall to close the overhead door. The sound of Porkchop scratching at the door leading from the garage into the house caught my ear. I knelt and pushed the door open. Porkchop let out a few high-pitched whines while he slobbered and licked. I gave him a good petting and shoved him back into the house so I could get inside. Then I walked to the back patio door and slid it open so he could go out.

I wasn’t looking forward to the phone call to Kane—it had seemed to mean a lot to him that Karen and I agreed to be godparents. While I knew he’d understand that we wouldn’t be able to make it, I didn’t like the feeling that I was letting a friend down. I tossed the case file on the dining room table, took a seat, and dialed Kane. The phone rang in my ear. Kane wasn’t one for long, drawn-out stories—I would give it to him straight.

“What’s up, Hank?” Kane answered.

“Not much. I won’t beat around the bush. I just got word I’m getting sent off to Tennessee tomorrow morning. Karen and I aren’t going to be able to make it down this weekend.”

“Ah, that sucks.” Kane paused for a moment.

I could hear him speaking with someone else on his end of the phone.

“We had this giant thing planned out at the house,” he said. “Now I’m going to have to call everyone and tell them it’s off.”

I scratched at my forehead. “Sorry. I feel like shit. There’s just no one else that can go, though. The other two field agents are in Louisiana on something else.”

“Oh, man. Callie is going to be pissed. She had family coming from out of state. We had a band booked.”

I let out a breath and rocked my head back. “I apologize. My hands are tied here.”

I heard him chuckle, along with what sounded like a woman laughing.

“I’m just busting your ass, Hank,” Kane said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Huh?” I asked.

“There wasn’t anyone coming over other than you, Karen, and maybe a few people from the station—Bostok and the guys. We can do it anytime.”

“You had to screw with me. I felt bad enough as it was.”

“Well, Callie wanted me to give you shit for bailing. She’s standing right next to me.”

“Hi, Hank!” a woman’s faint voice said.

“So what’s the case you have to head out for?” Kane asked.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” I said sarcastically. “Just some dismembered bodies and a possible cannibal.”

“Ugh,” Kane said. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, and that’s the glossed-over version.”

“Okay, why don’t you get a hold of me when you get back, and we’ll figure something out to try to do this again.”

“Without a doubt. How are Callie and John doing?”

“Callie is good. John is a handful. Sleep is now a luxury instead of something that’s expected. My dad and stepmom were down here for two weeks, helping out. Callie’s parents are coming next week. So far, so good, though. He hasn’t exploded or spontaneously combusted or anything yet, so I guess we’re doing our jobs.”

I smiled. “We’ll get down there as soon as we can.”

“No problem. We’ll be here.”

“Okay. Tell Callie I apologize.”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a ring when you’re done in Tennessee. Catch the asshole,” Kane said.

“Sounds good. We’ll see you.” I hung up, let out a breath, and tossed my cell phone on the tabletop. Porkchop had finished with his outside business and was sitting next to my leg, staring up at me, wanting to be fed. He got his dinner, and I retook my chair at the kitchen table. I figured I had a good twenty minutes to look over the investigation file before Karen walked in—I would go over everything in finer detail after she went to bed. My wife wasn’t a fan of me looking over case files at the house or of herself seeing what was inside of them.

I popped the file open and spread the contents across the table. The photos and related content from the most recent victims went off to the left, the older victims and associated information off to the right. I looked through what we had on the two recent women that we had identification on. I started with Brittany Colwell, and the information was slim: driver’s license photos and rap sheets that showed multiple arrests for drugs and solicitation. I saw no friends or family interviews, no information regarding where specifically she had last been seen, no cell phone or banking information. I moved on to Rhonda Oakley, who had even less in her stack of papers than Brittany did.

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed Beth. She picked up right away.

“Hey Hank, What’s up?” Beth asked.

“Hey. Are you someplace where you can look at the file from the investigation?” I asked.

“I’m actually looking at it now. I’m supposed to meet Geoff at the theater in, like, an hour, so I figured I’d dig in on it a bit before I had to leave. See something?”

“No. Nothing, actually,” I said.

“Yeah. I’m looking at the same lack of anything as you are. I’m guessing that’s why this guy is choosing these women as victims. Nobody knows if they go missing, and unfortunately, it doesn’t seem that anyone cares when they do.”

“There’s just nothing here aside from priors and driver’s license photos.”

“Yeah, they seem pretty far off the grid,” Beth said. “Drug problems maybe. Living on the streets, who knows. The Nashville PD or arresting officers from some of their priors might be able to provide us a bit more insight.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said.